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Authors: Clea Hantman
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a two-room one. But after a while Era took pity on me and let me move into her room. This was where I retreated to now. I didn’t like how this conversation was going.
And anyway, I needed some quiet time with my shoes.
T EN
I didn’t admit it to my sisters, but Dylan from Denver stayed in the back of my mind all weekend. And so did Apollo. I thought about how they were alike (they’re both strong and so funny) and how in so many ways they were different (Apollo is bullish and stubborn, and Dylan’s just plain goofy). And then I spent hours trying to not think about either one. After a morning marathon of Cops on the TV, I decided it was time to stir up a little adventure of my own. I thought the first place to look was this room off the house. I’d heard it referred to on TV as a garage.
We’d avoided it until now. It was dark and musty and had spiderwebs. I hate spiders, and my sisters hate them even more. Still, I thought I’d brave it in hopes of finding something good amid the boxes.There was so much stuff in this room. I could only assume it belonged to the previous owners, left behind for someone else to clean up. There were boxes upon boxes of unidentified junk. I was hoping there would be a bicycle in here. Polly just refused to let me go back to that Mart store and get one. Somehow she’d become queen of the credit card and all the cash. Which seemed pretty ridiculous to me, considering we had an unlimited supply of money.
After going through countless bags and even more boxes (and seeing numerous unnecessary items…a chicken with a clock in its belly? A painting of a single lemon?), I still had found no bike. But I found the next-best thing. I had heard it referred to alternately as a board and a skateboard, but I just knew it was my new toy.
I ran outside with my beat-up board to try and use it on the road in front of the house. Daddy had granted the world a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The air was warm but breezy, and it smelled like flowers and grass and pavement. Grinning, I threw down my board, jumped on, and the board went flying forward while I landed sharply on my butt. It was great!
I knew I could master it if I just took a little time. I’m a natural at most sports, won the Junior Stellar Sky Skiing championship three years in a row. So I ran after the board, placed it more gingerly on the ground in front of me, and stood on it. Steady. Good.Then I propelled myself with the one foot while balancing myself on the other. Down the street I went. After just twenty minutes I could fly off the curb with two feet firmly on the board. Now, this was the most excitement I’d had in a very long time.
I figured I was doing pretty well, so I tried this move I saw a girl do in the school quad. I kicked the back of the board hard and flipped it all the way around and landed on it.
I fell on my butt. Hard. But it didn’t matter. It was thrilling, downright exhilarating. I got up and did it again. And again. And again.
I skated around and around and up the driveway and off the curb and around the corner and back.
I had started to concentrate on the flips again when the board seemed to come to life. It felt like it had a mind of its own. It came out from under me with tremendous force and shot straight ahead, like Hercules tossing a discus, and went deep and straight into this large evergreen bush.
Then the bush made a loud, deep, “Yowww!” Talking bushes, oh, my!
I had begun to apologize profusely to Mr. Bush when I spotted an upside-down 15. I looked closer to find a football-pants-clad butt pointing straight at the sky. Dylan was sort of hanging there, dangling from the back side of the bush. I mentally took back all my apologies.
Then I noticed our camera, just hanging on the tallest, tippiest, tiniest branch, and it was about to break. I panicked. My grade! My life! I jumped up to try to get it but only knocked it loose. The camera came tumbling down the side of the bush. I made a
And anyway, I needed some quiet time with my shoes.
T EN
I didn’t admit it to my sisters, but Dylan from Denver stayed in the back of my mind all weekend. And so did Apollo. I thought about how they were alike (they’re both strong and so funny) and how in so many ways they were different (Apollo is bullish and stubborn, and Dylan’s just plain goofy). And then I spent hours trying to not think about either one. After a morning marathon of Cops on the TV, I decided it was time to stir up a little adventure of my own. I thought the first place to look was this room off the house. I’d heard it referred to on TV as a garage.
We’d avoided it until now. It was dark and musty and had spiderwebs. I hate spiders, and my sisters hate them even more. Still, I thought I’d brave it in hopes of finding something good amid the boxes.There was so much stuff in this room. I could only assume it belonged to the previous owners, left behind for someone else to clean up. There were boxes upon boxes of unidentified junk. I was hoping there would be a bicycle in here. Polly just refused to let me go back to that Mart store and get one. Somehow she’d become queen of the credit card and all the cash. Which seemed pretty ridiculous to me, considering we had an unlimited supply of money.
After going through countless bags and even more boxes (and seeing numerous unnecessary items…a chicken with a clock in its belly? A painting of a single lemon?), I still had found no bike. But I found the next-best thing. I had heard it referred to alternately as a board and a skateboard, but I just knew it was my new toy.
I ran outside with my beat-up board to try and use it on the road in front of the house. Daddy had granted the world a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The air was warm but breezy, and it smelled like flowers and grass and pavement. Grinning, I threw down my board, jumped on, and the board went flying forward while I landed sharply on my butt. It was great!
I knew I could master it if I just took a little time. I’m a natural at most sports, won the Junior Stellar Sky Skiing championship three years in a row. So I ran after the board, placed it more gingerly on the ground in front of me, and stood on it. Steady. Good.Then I propelled myself with the one foot while balancing myself on the other. Down the street I went. After just twenty minutes I could fly off the curb with two feet firmly on the board. Now, this was the most excitement I’d had in a very long time.
I figured I was doing pretty well, so I tried this move I saw a girl do in the school quad. I kicked the back of the board hard and flipped it all the way around and landed on it.
I fell on my butt. Hard. But it didn’t matter. It was thrilling, downright exhilarating. I got up and did it again. And again. And again.
I skated around and around and up the driveway and off the curb and around the corner and back.
I had started to concentrate on the flips again when the board seemed to come to life. It felt like it had a mind of its own. It came out from under me with tremendous force and shot straight ahead, like Hercules tossing a discus, and went deep and straight into this large evergreen bush.
Then the bush made a loud, deep, “Yowww!” Talking bushes, oh, my!
I had begun to apologize profusely to Mr. Bush when I spotted an upside-down 15. I looked closer to find a football-pants-clad butt pointing straight at the sky. Dylan was sort of hanging there, dangling from the back side of the bush. I mentally took back all my apologies.
Then I noticed our camera, just hanging on the tallest, tippiest, tiniest branch, and it was about to break. I panicked. My grade! My life! I jumped up to try to get it but only knocked it loose. The camera came tumbling down the side of the bush. I made a
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