CHAPTER 9
Just a Minute ...
At lunchtime the next day — Friday — Alex held a meeting in the library for anyone wanting to help organise the skateboarding exhibition. There were those who might have said that he was avoiding Billy Johnstone, but Alex would’ve said that he wasn’t scared of anyone.
About ten kids turned up at the meeting, and Alex recognised a few of the Year 10 boys from the skatepark. One was a decent boarder but the other two were hangers–on, and Alex couldn’t see them helping out much. There was a Year 9 girl who reckoned she could 50–50 and noseslide gutters and a Year 11 boy who said he could hardflip down 5 stairs. Jimmy was there and although he could skate he was more excited by the possibility of having a microphone and being the announcer.
The two surprise members of the organising team were Sarah Sceney and Becky Tonella. Sarah kept smiling at Alex, and Becky looked bored, like she was only there because Sarah had talked her into it. Whatever the reason, Alex was stoked that Becky had come and he was finding it hard to concentrate on running a meeting.
“Well I guess we should get going,” said Alex, after Jimmy gave him a nudge that nearly knocked him off his chair. “I was thinking that we build a street course in front of the library. With the stairs and railing, it’s practically half built already ...”
“Excuse me, Alex,” said Sarah, “but is anyone taking minutes at this meeting?”
Alex nodded up towards the clock hanging on the wall. “I think that’s taking minutes.”
Becky looked at him like he was stupid, and Jimmy leaned across in front of him and whispered, “Not those minutes, you idiot — a record of what is said at the meeting.”
“No, Sarah, but I’m sure you’ll do it,” said Alex. She’d even get an A for Meetings.
“Is there gonna be a vert ramp?” asked one of the Year 10 hangers–on.
“What’s a vert ramp?” asked Becky.
“There are two types of skateboarding comps,” explained Jimmy. “One is street skating, which includes things like small ramps and railings which Alex stacks it on.” He grinned. “And the other is vert, which is a giant U–shaped ramp skateboarders go up and down on, and pull tricks like Tony Hawk’s 900 degree twist.”
“Because none of us can really skate vert, and the fact that building a vert ramp is a bit hard for a bunch of students who are flat out passing manual arts, I say we only have street skating in the exhibition,” said Alex.
“Who says I can’t skate vert?” said the Year 10 boy, his voice getting loud. “Last Friday I landed a 360 at the Beeton Skatebowl.”
“I think you’re getting yourself mixed up with Casey Marshall,” said Alex. “Maybe while you were stoned you dreamed you were skating in his body.”
Alex realised that this was a dumb thing to say to a Year 10 boy who was twice his size. Still, it annoyed him when these guys said they could pull tricks that they wouldn’t even attempt.
“Are you calling me a liar, vegie? Seano saw it, didn’t ya?” He looked to his friend for support.
“Yeah, I saw it,” his friend mumbled without conviction.
“Well if there’s no vert we’re not skating, are we Seano?”
“I guess not ...”
The boys got up to leave. “And by the way,” said Seano’s mate, “Billy Johnstone’s gonna beat the crap out of you on Monday, Jackson.”
Alex was impressed he knew his name. He must be getting a rep.
With the dead wood gone they actually achieved quite a lot. Becky offered to design some posters, and Sarah Sceney came up with the rad idea of approaching skate shops and asking for stickers and other skateboarding stuff, which could be tossed out at the exhibition. The only embarrassing part for Alex came at the end, when Sarah left and then returned with a photocopy of the minutes of the meeting for everyone in the group. She had written in big letters across the bottom of the page: I love Jack 4 ever!!! Alex made a mental note to let someone else take the minutes next time.
As the bell rang Alex was careful not to look at Becky until she had got up from her chair and had turned to walk out of the library. As she glided smoothly across the lino, Alex was admiring God’s handiwork in the shape of Becky’s legs. A few months ago he probably wouldn’t have even noticed, but lately he hardly knew himself. Suddenly Becky stopped and turned. She looked right at Alex and smiled, and he would have been as happy as a teenage boy at an Anna Kournakova tennis match — except for one thing. Though Becky’s lips were turned up her eyes were sad. Maybe he was imagining it, but they even looked the slightest bit moist.
The poor kid needs a friend right now.
Letch’s words came back to him. But what did he mean? He knew this Internet stuff was wrong, but he had to try and find out Becky’s secret.