Fyregirl -- Chapter 2

Skateboarding was one of my greatest passions. Since I couldn’t drive and I didn’t own a bike, my favorite way of getting around was by skateboard. Plus, it made me feel a tiny bit superior to Mina since she didn’t know how. (Once I had caught her trying to learn; it didn’t go too well, the bruise was there for weeks after, and I nearly choked; I was laughing so hard.)1

Skateboard under my arm, I made my way over to the half-pipe in Drommovi Park nearby, where I saw several other kids, mostly boys, were already there, showing off their skills; the usual crowd of girls watched from the sidelines, cheering their friends on.2

I put on my baseball cap and skateboarded the rest of the way to the park, nearly tripping over a brown striped rock. One of the boys near the crowd, hearing the sound, glanced over and noticed me, so he called,3

“Hey! It’s Faith!”4

I heard several sniggers, yet tried not to smile myself. The boy’s name was Victor; he was two years younger than me, around 8 inches shorter, had inky hair, and generally pretended my name was “Faith,” as a joke; in return, I called him Vicky, something he allowed nobody else to do.5

“Heya, Vicky! What’s new?”6

He waited until I arrived at the half-pipe and skidded to a stop before informing me exactly what was new: “There’s a group of boys who’re trying to invade our turf! I think they just moved in. They obviously don’t know our ways.” He pointed over his shoulder, where I noticed a new band of thuggish boys bullying and having shouting matches with some of my other friends, some of whom looked literally beaten up.7

All of a sudden the sound of fist again flesh cut through the air like a gunshot. I whirled around, looking for the source of the noise, and noticed another boy doubled over, clutching his face where I could see red marks start to appear, just like they had on my wrist where Mina had slapped it. I felt a surge of fury course through me.8

“Oi!” I dropped my skateboard and marched over to where the gangster stood until we stood face-to-face. “Why the heck did you do that?”9

The first thing that hit me about this boy was that he was pretty tall, a good foot taller than me. He observed me through narrowed eyes, taking in everything from my dirty sneakers up to my cap worn backwards. He wore a black shirt with a grinning white skull, and had a mean look and gigantic fists. I guessed that he was a year older than me (I was going into seventh grade). At last, he replied,10

“He cheeked me.”11

“Oh yeah? Did he say you look like a deranged walrus stumbling on its hind flippers? ‘Cause that’s actually the best compliment you’ll ever get, since it’s a major understatement.”12

Several people sniggered; the bully scowled.13

“Why are you here anyway?”14

“I’m here to skateboard and have fun with my friends,” I answered coolly.15

He laughed -- cruelly and sarcastically, clearly meant to discourage me, but I kept my ground.16

“Don’t tell me these are your friends, Faith. Besides, girls don’t skateboard.”17

“First of all, it’s Hope, idiot,” I corrected, irritated. “Second, who says girls can’t skateboard?”18

“Because they worry about stupid things and not the good things, like” -- he put on a high-pitched voice in a bad imitation of a girl -- “’Oh, I’ve broken a nail! Does my hair look all right? Let’s go shopping some more today!’” He resumed his normal voice. “They’re just too delicate, not tough and cool like us!”19

He smirked arrogantly, clearly thinking he had won the argument.20

“And?” I was infuriated. What did all that have to do with girls who skateboard? “Right now, I just care about getting on my skateboard again!”21

“And what makes you think you’ll get what you want?” he sneered, no trace of a grin on his face.22

I took a step up to him menacingly. The rogue didn’t recoil, but I could sense a tingle of fear run through him.23

“Because,” I hissed venomously, “if you don’t stop intimidating my friends and get out of this park this instant, you dim-witted moron, I’ll toss you out -- single-handedly.” A lie, of course, as I doubted I could carry his weight in one hand, but the threat had its desired effect nonetheless; my opponent’s eyes widened in fear, and he retreated a few steps. I had won.24

“Er. . . gang!” he hollered at the other rascals, most of whom were cracking their knuckles threateningly at the younger ones. “We’re leaving!” Evidently he was the one in charge here.25

There were various cries of outrage as the rest of the “gang” wheeled around and stomped toward their leader.26

“And just WHY are we leaving so soon?”27

“Did that little” -- (oath goes here) -- “threaten you? I’ll show her we ain’t no sissies!”28

“Where we gonna skateboard then, huh, boss?”29

This last question caused me to realize that these boys hadn’t done anything wrong (well, besides prancing into our place and beating up everybody), they had only been looking for a suitable place to skateboard; this was the only place to do that for miles around, I knew, so I began to pity them. (It felt kind of like pitying a bundle of baboons.)30

“Oi!” I called for the second time today. “I’ve changed my mind. You guys can stay, as long as you’re nice to us. But” -- I narrowed my eyes -- “if I catch sight of one beaten-up kid, if I hear one threat,” I snapped my fingers, “you’ll have to learn how to sleep with your eyes open!” (Note to self: Learn some martial arts -- fast!) They all nodded and grunted in assent and understanding.31

I walked up to the leader. “You are responsible for them, you know that, right?”32

He nodded nervously. (Perhaps he had believed me when I said I would throw them out single-handedly.)33

I held out my hand and smiled as warmly as I could under the circumstances, when I remembered something.34

“I just realized -- I don’t know your name.”35

He shook my hand and replied, “Scamp’s the name. Well, that’s what everyone calls me anyway.”36

I smirked. The name suited him perfectly. “I’m Hope, as I said before: Hope Burne.”37

I didn’t know if it was my imagination of not, but Scamp paled slightly, and his smile faded a little. He let go of my hand as if it was a hot coal.38

“Hey -- no offense, but we didn’t come here to talk, we’re here to skateboard! Betcha I’ll do a better 360 than you!”39

“Not a chance!” I wondered if he had changed the subject on purpose.40

Next second, however, he had already scampered up to the top of the half-pipe, and I was rushing to catch up to him. It felt strange, befriending somebody I just spent five minutes yelling at.41

When I was totally burned-out and my body was sore, my watch read “five o’ clock p.m.” I collapsed onto a nearby bench, took off my cap, and dropped my skateboard on the ground; immense relief washed over me. Almost at once I found myself joined by Scamp.42

“Tired?” He grinned.43

“Not even close,” I answered, which took a lot of effort. “’Fatigued’ would be more accurate. Why? Going to pick on me about my stamina, too?” he had been teasing me all day about my hair, my poise, my vocabulary -- yet most of the time I’d found it somewhat easy to shake off his words with a witty comeback each time.44

“No, just wondering how tired the tough little girl can get.”45

“Little?” I cried in mock outrage. “Excuse me, I’m going to be twelve next week!” (That day was July 25th.) For some reason, he looked surprised.46

“What-what?” he stammered. “Twelve? . . . You -- you’re the tallest, not to mention toughest, girl I know!”47

“Why, how old’re you?”48

“Thirteen,” he answered simple. Whoa. And I had thought he was fifteen or sixteen.49

Just then my watch beeped “5:15 p.m.” I remembered Olivia’s words: “Be home by sundown.” The sun was going down, so, I stood up, put on my cap again, and grabbed my skateboard.50

“I should be getting home now. My -- parents -- are kinda strict about my curfew -- just not hers,” I added under my breath.51

Scamp seemed to think for a moment, then said something that completely shocked me.52

“I’ll walk you home.”53

“What?” I was totally taken aback.54

He turned to the noisy group of thugs and little boys alike and called, “Gang! I’m gonna leave now! See you guys tomorrow!”55

Several people called back, “Sure!” “Catch you later, boss!”56

I walked over to Victor, who was learning how to do a 360 from one of Scamp’s pals and was cheerfully skateboarding back and forth. (Funny, he didn’t ask me to teach him that.) I saw he had quite a few bruises, and I wondered if Scamp’s buddy had kept his word.57

“Hey Vicky! I’ll be leaving now! You take care o’ yourself, ‘right?”58

He landed hard on the ground with a thud. “OUCH!” I flinched, but he got back up and smirked. “Gotcha! See you tomorrow?” he asked quizzically.59

“Nah, I don’t think Olivia’ll let me go anywhere tomorrow unless I wash the car five times or something, Mina blamed me for breaking a vase today. So, I guess not.” I sighed.60

“Oh, well. This is Scott, by the way.” He gestured toward his blond instructor, who looked my age and was a few inches taller. “Scott, Hope. Hope, Scott. ‘Kay, now the introducing part’s done, let’s get back to my lesson now, Scott.” He jumped on his skateboard and skated away.61

“Who’s the instructor here, Victor?” he demanded indignantly, then waved at me. “Well… see you around, Hope.”62

“Yeah.” I turned and hurried over to Scamp, who was leaning against the gray lamppost, and together we started our promenade home.63

Twenty seconds later, as we rounded the corner and the lively crowd vanished from sight, Scamp asked me a question.64

“Hope -- what school’re you going to in September?”65

“Gryfnix,” I responded. I looked ahead, and I could see the rooftop of my house at the end of the block. “Er. . . why?”66

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh. . . that’s the school I go to.” He scratched his head, then glanced at me. “By the way the tag on your cap’s sticking out.” His fingers tentatively reached out and tucked it safely out of view. “Doesn’t go too well with your black hair.”67

I felt my cheeks grow red until they burned, so I hastily turned away, hoping he hadn’t noticed. Why was he being so nice toward me? Nobody had ever done stuff like that to me (well, except for Mina this one time, but that was right before she pushed me into the pond).68

“Burne,” he muttered to himself, lost in his own thoughts. Then he said out loud, “Hope -- do you know who your parents were?”69

I shook my head in return. We were halfway to my house now.70

Suddenly his breathing became short and agitated, so he started inhaling and exhaling deeply to steady himself; his strides grew longer, and he was casting his head about wildly in all directions, alert, jumping at the least sound, as if looking for the enemy. As far as I could see, the only things that could possibly threaten us were two trash cans on the other sidewalk, right across from us.71

We reached my house. I heard loud hip-hop music coming from my sister’s window on the top floor.72

“Home again,” I murmured dolefully. Scamp was still looking around, watchful for who-knows-what.73

“Scamp?” No reply. His breathing had become sharp again. I waved my hand in front of him. “Sca-amp? Scamp!”74

I snapped my fingers in his face. He gave an odd yelp and noticed me for what seemed like the first time.75

“Oh, hi, Hope!”76

“Why are you so twitchy?” I demanded. “The only things that could possibly attack us right now are those two trash cans!” I pointed across the street -- where the trash cans were just across from us (again? Wait a minute. . .).77

“The trash cans!” He stared at them, horrorstruck, and abruptly grabbed my wrist.78

“Hope, on your skateboard!”79

“Wait, what? I’d--“80

“Just do it!”81

I dropped my board on the ground and hopped on it.82

“Follow me,” he ordered, and he took off, wending his way around lampposts, recycle bins, and parked cars. I had absolutely no clue where he was going, or why, but I decided to trust him, so I pushed off after him. (Thank God I managed to keep him in sight, he’s pretty dang fast!)83

If was pretty lucky for us there were no cars running around at the moment, that would’ve added another danger to our little adventure. As it was, I ran into plenty of bushes because I was busy keeping my eyes on Scamp and not the shrubs.84

We skated around the whole block once or twice, sometimes (for some weird reason) hiding behind bushes, other times crouching low near fire hydrants (hey, I only imitated him!), but other than that, we were just a couple of pre-teens having a friendly race around the neighborhood.85

In due course, we stopped at my house again. The music had stopped, and I could barely make out a face silhouetted against the window. I vaguely remembered the feeling I had described before: “fatigued.” Yet I felt really energetic and sharp at the moment, strangely enough.86

I gazed around, expecting something weird to come out of the blue and attacked us, but nothing happened.87

“Scamp? I’m gonna go in now, 'kay?”88

He nodded, still looking around warily. Just as he was about to prance away and leave me there in the dark alone with my confusion and disbelief, he grabbed my wrist without warning. I felt slightly squirmish.89

“Hope,” he breathed in my ear, “whatever you do, don’t let your anger control and possess you. Just -- just -- I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he leaped onto his board and glided away, with one backwards glance that nearly caused him to crash into a lamppost.90

********************91

That night, while I was applying toothpaste to my toothbrush, Mina waltzed in, humming a love song (off-key). When she noticed me, she smiled dreamily and asked,92

“Hope, you know that guy who you were chasing around the block?”93

“I wasn’t -- yeah, why?” I stuck my toothbrush inside my mouth and started swirling it around.94

“What’s his name?” she asked curiously.95

I hesitated. “Scamp,” I responded after a moment through a mouthful of mint-flavored toothpaste.96

“Scamp,” she repeated vaguely. “What a cute name for a cute guy.”97

I almost choked on my toothpaste, so I hastily bent over the sink and spit it out; I gaped at Mina’s back in the. Mina and Scamp?98

Was she in an overly good mood? No, she couldn’t be, we had had roast turkey for dinner. (Mina hated roast turkey, she complained that it made her fat -- as if it made a difference.) Wow . . . . The world is full of surprises, I thought, bemused.