When we roll up to the skate park all the usual guys are sitting around watching while a couple of the older guys are flying all over the ramps doing tricks I can only dream about. Even if I had the guts I wouldn’t be able to do that stuff, ever. It used to annoy me, but now I guess I’ve just got used to it. Ranga is a bit of a hero here. The older guys treat him like he’s one of them, knuckles and stuff. I’m lucky to get a grunt.
James though, they’re interested in him. What happened to you? Can you move your legs? Can I have a go of your chair? He handles it well, answering their questions and not getting angry, even when they grab the controls of his chair and make it jerk back and forth. He won’t let them have a go on it though.
I’m just about to step in and try to stop them before they break something when Ranga speaks up. He tells them to leave James alone, that James is his friend and they actually do leave him alone. I’m relieved because I’m scared; really scared. It doesn’t take much for them to turn on you, and then one of them figures he needs to beat you up — especially if you’re a small kid, or weak or a bit fat, or you’re wearing green. It doesn’t matter what it is, one of them will shove you around to prove how tough they are. All the others laugh like you’re a waste of skin and you don’t matter.
They might be leaving James alone, but this tall kid with long, greasy hair, who used to go to school a few years ago, decides that I need to be picked on. He walks across and sticks his face right next to mine. ‘What are you looking at?’
I know where this is heading. If I say, ‘Nothing,’ then he’ll get mad and say, ‘Who are you calling nothing?’ Then he’ll beat me up.
I don’t want that to happen so I say, ‘My hero.’
He looks confused and all his mates laugh. That makes him embarrassed and mad — at me. He glares and I realise that I’m in deep trouble but then Ranga steps between us.
‘Leave him alone,’ Ranga says. ‘He’s just a kid. Pick on someone your own size.’
‘Yeah Luke, leave him alone. He’s funny,’ says one of the big guys.
He still wants to get me but his mates will think he’s weak if he picks on me. I can see him trying to decide if it’s worth it anyway. Then he gives this fake laugh and says, ‘Yeah, he’s funny.’ But his stare says, ‘Watch your back,’ before he swaggers over to the other guys.
Ranga puts on a show that day. He’s upside down in the air half the time, spinning like a top as well. I’ve seen him do the same moves before but now he’s linking them together and each one seems to give him more speed into the next one. I almost feel like not skating myself because Ranga is so good and I’m so bad. I’m sitting down to watch when he flies up the wall, flips his board into his hand, and lands lightly on his feet next to James and me.
‘Come on, Sticks,’ he says. ‘Get into it. Today’s the day.’
I’m pulling my knee and elbow pads from my bag when I hear a hiss.
‘Sticks!’
It’s Ranga. He’s using his eyes to signal towards the others. ‘Don’t put those on. Not with those guys here.’
I glance across. They’re looking towards us. Ranga’s right. If I put this stuff on I’ll make myself a target, but I know that if I don’t I’ll lose skin.
‘Just play safe, at least until they’re gone,’ Ranga whispers. ‘Don’t do anything hard.’
It’s easy for him to say. For me, everything is hard. Even on a slow hill I’ll find a way to get speed wobbles and fall off. When I do, I land hard. Not like Ranga. The big guys are still watching. What’s worse, getting picked on by those guys or skinning my elbows or knees? I can’t win. I wish I’d never come!
I’m trying to decide when I hear wheels crunching loose stones on the cement next to me. It’s James.
‘Do you reckon my chair would handle that section over there?’
There is absolutely no way his chair could handle even the first section of the ramp and, even if he somehow made it to the bottom, he’d stack it so badly that we’d have to call an ambulance. I look at him and I can’t believe it. His eyes are shining and he’s ready to give it a go.
‘You’re nuts,’ I say. ‘If you try you’ll find out the true meaning of pain.’
‘I already know what pain is,’ James says.
I glance at his legs. They’re even more twisted up than they were at the start of the term. I guess he pretty much lives with pain, but why add to it?
‘You’ll lose metres of skin for sure,’ I tell him and for once he seems to listen.
He nods. ‘Yes, I guess so. I don’t want to get injured before the operation.’
‘Operation? What operation?’
‘I’m having a pump implanted next week, to relax the muscles in my legs.’
‘You never said anything about this,’ I say. I’m almost accusing him, like he has to tell me everything he’s doing.
James just shrugs and goes back to watching Ranga getting pretty close to flying. It’s probably five minutes before he says, ‘I’ve had operations before. They had to lengthen the tendons in my legs so I could straighten them a bit.’
‘How? Did they cut them?’ It’s such a horrible idea.
James nods. ‘But the last few years they’ve given me botox injections.’
He sees me smirking. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I look young.’
‘So why don’t they keep doing that?’
‘It only works for a while and the amount I need isn’t good for me. The pump is supposed to be much better.’
‘Are you afraid?’
James shrugs. ‘I’ve got no choice.’
We sit a while and then he says, ‘You know what my friend and I told the nurses at hospital once, when we were getting botox?’
‘What?’ I ask. It could be anything.
‘We told them we wanted our legs cut off. They just cause pain and get in the way.’
I stare at him. I can’t believe what he said. He’s got this strange look on his face and then it disappears. He laughs. ‘Just joking, we were stirring up the nurses.’
I’ve got a horrible feeling he meant it and I can’t handle the thought I’m having about what it would be like to be James so I just watch the Ranga show for a while.
After maybe five more minutes I decide to have a go at skateboarding myself, without the knee and elbow pads. I walk over to the edge of the ramp and put my foot on the back of my board with the front wheels hanging in the air just over the edge. I’m going to just step on the front and let gravity pull me down into the bowl. When I hit the bottom I should have lots of speed so I’ll just turn off the top on the other side and slow up a bit before I try anything too tricky. I take a breath and step forward, the skateboard tips and I’m off.
The trouble is the skateboard doesn’t come with me. The back wheels hook up on the edge of the ramp and I fall head first down to the bottom. My right knee smacks into the ground and the ramp sandpapers my palms. As I roll my left elbow cracks into concrete. My shirt saves my back but it’s burning when I stop sliding. I’m lying there, dazed, when I hear laughter.
It’s the older guys, pointing at me, slapping each other on the back and banging their knuckles together like Americans on TV. I feel worthless. I hate them and their stupid little gang. They feel like big men here, but really they’re just losers and bullies. I hate them but mostly I hate myself for letting them make me feel like this, like shrivelling up and disappearing.
‘Are you alright, Sticks?’ It’s Ranga. He’s got my hand and he’s checking it for grazes. ‘You really splattered yourself. Hey, your elbow’s bleeding.’ He rips out a scrunched up tissue. It looks used.
I pull my arm away. ‘You’re not putting that on my graze,’ I say. ‘I’ll die of snot infection.’
‘Do you reckon my snot’s dirtier than this concrete?’ He’s pointing at the ramp. It’s dirty grey with a few red drops of my blood on it.
‘Hey Sticks!’ It’s James. He’s got his chair right up to the edge of the ramp. One centimetre further and he’ll fall over. ‘You okay?’ He looks worried in between other expressions that come and go on his face. He does that when he’s upset.
Suddenly I’m feeling better. My two friends are there for me. But then the worst thing of all happens. I cry. Not a lot. My eyes just water up enough for some to run down my face.
‘There, there! Who’s a little baby then?’ It’s the jerk with the long hair.
I pretend I haven’t heard him. I just get my skateboard, climb out of the ramp and pick up my bag, but the crappiness of this rotten day hasn’t finished yet. My bag doesn’t jingle. I already know what it means, but I open it and check anyway. Yes, my allen keys are missing and I bet I know who took them. I look across at the long-haired kid. He smirks back.
I know I won’t be able to prove he took them and if I try it will just give him a reason to beat me up. I shake my head and leave with Ranga and James beside me.