Chase
Guests Prohibited. Are you kidding me? I lift my skateboard and climb over the rope. Dad’s checking us into this place, and I’m checking it out. It’s like a creepy old mansion. The stairs groan under my feet. A deep crack spreads from one side of the staircase to the other, and the rug looks older and dirty.
When I reach the next level, the wood floor rolls out in front of me—the perfect surface. The sign said they’re renovating this floor, but I don’t see any workers. Still, I better be sure. I carry my skateboard and walk down the hall.
“Hey!”
I whip my head around and see a girl standing all sergeantlike, hands on her hips, legs apart. I grin, throw my board down, and I’m off.
“Get back here!” she bellows.
I laugh. “Come and get me!”
I’m flying over the whoop-de-doos, getting a little air, faster, faster! Yeah! I stamp my back foot down for a perfect ollie, only my landing’s sketchy and I feel one of the wheels catch in a groove. Suddenly I’m cartwheeling—arms flailing, legs snapping—and I have just enough time to think, This is gonna hurt! before I slam onto the floor.
Aw, man.
I’m squeezing my eyes shut, trying to decide which hurts more—my head or my ego—when I hear that girl come running up.
“Are you okay?” she yells.
I lift my head, try to look at her, and suddenly feel like I’m gonna hurl. I rest my head. Closing my eyes, I say, “Yeah, I just need to lie down for a minute.”
Her footsteps shuffle up close to me.
She gasps.
My eyes snap open. “What?”
Gaping, she points at my arm. “It’s crooked,” she says.
Oh, no. I try to sit up, but when I brace myself, fire races down my right arm. Oh, man. “I’m gonna be sick.”
Her face goes white. Mine feels green. “I better get my dad,” she says, and before I can say anything she takes off, leaving me alone on the floor.
Waves of seasickness overtake me. My arm throbs like a blinking red light. I moan. Then, because no one’s around, I moan louder.
It’s on a freshwater spring, Dad had said. You’ll love it—lots of history. Um, yeah, that’s what I want on summer vacation—history. An old, beat-up hotel with bad floors. I know he’s a travel writer and everything, but how come we never go where I want to go, like that place that had shrunken heads outside and the sign read, Heading this way?
What’s taking so long? It hurts too much to just wait. If I had a mother, she’d already be here with an ice pack. I roll on my left side and part of my right arm rotates against itself. “Oh, man!” Tears spring into my eyes.
“Don’t move about,” a voice says. “Lie down; your arm’s broken; I feel much pain.”
I look into the eyes of the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Her eyes are like black jewels; her long, dark hair brushes across my face as she helps me lie flat. I’d think she was an angel except I’m pretty sure angels have blond hair and I don’t think they say aboot instead of about. Wonder where she’s from.
“I just want to close my eyes,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Stay awake. You might have a concussion.”
Yeah, or a hatchet through my head. “Where’s my board?”
She looks around and stands up, and the floor creaks as she walks away from me.
“Oh, good,” I say when she brings it back. “Not broken.” Summer would bite without my skateboard. I’d be stuck sitting around the pool while Dad pecked out stories on his portable typewriter.
She lays my board by me and quickly stands. “I must go.”
“Aw, man.” I might start crying if I’m alone.
“They’re coming,” she says. “I’m not supposed to be here. Don’t tell anyone.”
Guests Prohibited.
I wince. She runs along the wall and disappears. I don’t hear her, but now I hear voices coming up from the opposite direction. Uh-oh. One of them is my dad’s.