Snowboard Showdown (2 page)

“I said get out!” Freddie said, his voice rising to a shout.

“Shhh, quiet! You want to get Papi upset?” Dondi said.

Freddie felt like screaming. Dondi always did that, played innocent when he was really the cause of all the trouble. But he
was right about one thing—Freddie didn't want to upset his father. Downstairs, he could hear the blender going. Good. No way
he would have heard Freddie shout.

“I'm sorry about your nose, okay?” Dondi said. “Come on, it was just one of those things.”

“No, it wasn't.”

“Okay, it wasn't,” Dondi admitted, a sly grin appearing on his handsome face. His black eyes sparkled, and he reached back
and flipped his ponytail off his neck. “Come on, get over it.”

“I would have beaten you today, and you know it,” Freddie said.

“Sure you would have,” Dondi said, his smile widening. “Sure. Right.”

“You could never do that reverse-indy move, Dondi,” Freddie insisted.

“I can do anything you can, and double,” Dondi
said. “Cueball.” Dondi put a hand on Freddie's buzz cut and rubbed it.

That did it. “Cut it out!” Freddie yelled, knocking Dondi's hand away.

“When are you getting a haircut, anyway?” Dondi asked, getting up. “You're looking shaggy.”

“Shut up!” Freddie screeched. “You're the one who needs a haircut. You look like a girl with that ponytail.”

“What did you call me?” Dondi asked, suddenly angry. He came at Freddie, shoving him with his hands. “Take it back, squirt.”

In moments, they were at each other again. Dondi pounded Freddie with a pillow. Freddie kicked out, scoring once with a hit
to Dondi's knee, which only made Dondi fight harder. He covered Freddie's face with the pillow and pushed down hard before
letting go.

Freddie shot up and stood on the bed, gasping for breath. “Papi!” he called at the top of his lungs. “Dondi tried to kill
me!”

“I did not!” Dondi yelled. “I was just getting him back!”

Esteban pounded up the stairs. “You boys are going to stop this nonsense right now!” he demanded.

“He started it!” Freddie said hotly. “He came into my room! And”—Freddie cast a glance at Dondi—“he gave me a bloody nose
earlier.”

“He what?” Esteban turned to Dondi, who was glaring at his brother.

“It was an accident!” Dondi insisted.

“Was not!”

“Whoa!” Esteban brought them both to silence with one firm wave of his hand. “Look, you two boys are supposed to be brothers.
When are you going to start acting like it?”

“I came in here to make up,” Dondi said softly.

“He walked right in here without being invited,” Freddie pointed out.

Suddenly Esteban sighed. He sat down on the bed with a deflated look on his face. “I guess I didn't do such a good job raising
you two,” he said, shaking his head. “I tried to teach you about sportsmanship, and standing up for each other, not tearing
each other down. But I guess I didn't get through to you.”

Freddie looked at his father, then quickly dropped
his gaze. Guilt washed over him. Esteban had gone from angry to depressed in a matter of seconds, and Freddie knew he was
partly to blame. He was about to apologize when Dondi cut him off.

“Papi,” Dondi said with an injured voice, “I can't help it. Everything I do annoys him. It's like, if I hum a tune, he tells
me to shut up, and if I come into his room, he yells at me.”

Freddie felt like punching his brother. All of a sudden, Dondi was the big victim, and Freddie was the monster. Like Dondi
hadn't done anything to make him angry in the first place. Yeah, right.

“Dondi, you're the big brother,” Esteban said. “You're supposed to take good care of Freddie. Be someone he can look up to.”

“It's not fair!” Dondi protested. “Why do
I
always have to give in, never him? Just because he's younger?”

“Donovan,” Esteban said, using his son's full name as he did only in certain moments, “it's just by chance that you happen
to be older. But it means you've got certain responsibilities. I expect you to live up to the job.”

“Oh, you want me to do my job?” Dondi suddenly
changed from victim to attacker. “How about you do
your
job? You're supposed to be the father around here. Why don't you start acting like one?”

“Dondi–”

“No, I want to know. Why don't you go get a job so Mami can be home more? She wouldn't let Freddie get away with everything
the way you do!”

Without another look at either Freddie or his father, Dondi stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

I
don't know what it is,” Freddie said to his best friend, Eric Schwartz, as he pushed Eric's wheelchair down the school hallway
toward the cafeteria. Eric was perfectly capable of wheeling his own chair. But the school hallways were narrow, and since
they had to walk single file anyway, Freddie had slung his book bag over his shoulders and offered to push.

“Why does he always have to start with me?” Freddie wondered aloud.

“I know what it is,” Eric replied, looking back over his shoulder. “He's jealous of you.”

“Jealous? Are you kidding me? Why should he be jealous?”

“Because you're a better athlete than he is—isn't it obvious?” Eric was always saying that everything
was obvious. Maybe to him it was, with his straight-A average. But to Freddie, Dondi's behavior was one big mystery.

“You think so? He's faster than me in track.”

“Yeah, but that's only because his legs are longer. A couple years from now, you'll beat him at that, too.”

“Hmm.” Freddie smiled at the thought of it. He knew that sooner or later, he was going to start growing in leaps and bounds.
He'd been two inches longer at birth than Dondi, and the doctors were always telling his mom that Freddie would be taller
as a grown-up. But for now, it was really irritating to be the smaller, skinnier brother.

“I'll tell you one thing,” Freddie said as they entered the noisy cafeteria, “I'm never going snow-boarding with him again.
He always wants to play Pig, but when I beat him, it always makes him mad. What's the point?”

Eric heaved a sigh. “I wish I could go snowboarding with you,” he said.

Freddie pushed Eric toward the tables, looking for a place to sit. “Yeah. I wish you could too.”

Eric had been in a wheelchair ever since a car had
hit him when he was six. He made the best of it, though. No one could say that Eric Schwartz wasted time feeling sorry for
himself, Freddie reflected with pride. Eric was proof positive that you didn't have to dance or play sports or even walk to
be popular. He had been elected president of the seventh-grade student council that September, by a huge margin. Freddie couldn't
think of a single person who didn't like Eric—even Dondi.

“Hi, Freddie,” came a girl's voice from one of the tables as they passed. “Hi, Eric.”

Freddie didn't need to turn to find out whose voice it was—it was Clarissa Logan's. Freddie had had a major crush on her ever
since sixth grade when she'd suddenly grown from a skinny little kid to a willowy, beautiful girl with dark, wavy hair and
long lashes shading big green eyes.

Freddie had a hard time not staring at her whenever they were in the same room together. He'd actually joined chorus because
he knew she'd be in it. A couple of times, the music teacher had singled him out for not paying attention. Worse, Clarissa
had even caught him staring once. He'd looked away immediately, but he knew she'd seen him.
From the corner of his eye, he caught her cover her mouth to stifle a giggle. Freddie wasn't sure if she was laughing at him
or because she liked him. But he felt himself go red all over anyway.

He'd promised himself to be cool around her from then on. When the Thanksgiving dance had come around, he hadn't been able
to get up the nerve to ask her, and she'd gone with someone else—an eighth-grader. And why not? Freddie thought. Clarissa
Logan sure looked like an eighth-grader herself. And him? He looked like a sixth-grader, at best. When, oh, when, was he going
to start growing?

“Hi,” he murmured, slowing to a halt. He'd meant to keep going, but Eric and Clarissa started talking about a math test they'd
both taken that morning. Freddie stood awkwardly, waiting for them to finish.

“You guys want to join us?” Clarissa asked. “Girls, shove over, okay?”

Freddie looked down at Eric. “You want to?” he asked.

“Sure. You?”

“I guess.” Trying to seem nonchalant, Freddie sat down next to Clarissa. As he did, he bumped her
elbow. Freddie drew back as if he'd touched fire, stammered an apology.

The table was crowded with other kids Freddie knew, all busy talking with one another. Smart Krissie from French class, and
Kareem the computer wizard, and tall Oliver, the star of the basketball team.

“I was wondering,” Clarissa asked Eric, continuing their conversation about the math test, “if you understood the part about
the slopes and meridians. Midterms are coming up and I don't know what I'm doing.”

“Well,” Eric said, “it's not that complicated really. I could help you study sometime if you want.”

“Really? Cool!” Clarissa said with a dazzling smile.

Freddie squirmed. Eric was so up front, so out there. He'd practically asked Clarissa out, and she'd pretty much said yes,
while Freddie just sat there, too shy to say anything. On the other hand, maybe Eric was just being friendly, and Clarissa
was just being friendly back. Maybe…

“I could use a lesson on that stuff too,” Freddie blurted out. “Maybe I could join you?” He knew he
was horning in, but he'd opened his mouth before he could stop himself.

Before Clarissa and Eric could say anything, Dondi appeared over Clarissa's shoulder.

“Hey, squirt,” Dondi said, nodding to Freddie.

Freddie glared at him, reddening. In two seconds, with two simple words, Dondi had humiliated him in front of his best friend
and the girl he had a major crush on. Boy, was that ever Dondi. “What do you want?” he asked Dondi.

“Guess what? I got my working papers!” He held them up for the whole table to see. “Anybody wanna hire me? Only fifty dollars
an hour!” Everyone laughed at Dondi's clowning, as everyone always did. Dondi never seemed to get embarrassed or worry that
he'd said or done something wrong—take now, for instance. It was like he was a stand-up comic or something. Freddie wished
he could be like that, but whenever he tried to be funny, it usually came out wrong. So he didn't try to be funny much anymore.

“Wow, that is so awesome!” Clarissa said enthusiastically, handling Dondi's working papers as if they were made of diamonds.
“I wish I could get a job.
Something cool. Like Mabry's, where they sell all those great clothes.” She looked up at Dondi admiringly.

“I'm gonna get you a special discount if you come in to where I work,” Dondi promised.

“I am so there!” Clarissa told Dondi, and they slapped each other five. Then, to Freddie's horror, Dondi winked at her.

“Y-you don't even have a job yet,” Freddie blurted out, stumbling over the words. He wanted to take the working papers and
crush them into a ball. Instead, he handed them back to Dondi.

“I will by tonight, you wait and see,” Dondi told him. Then he sauntered off, pointing meaningfully at Clarissa, who giggled.

Suddenly, Freddie felt like he was drowning. He stood up, using the table for support. “I… gotta go,” he said, grabbing his
book bag and waving a quick good-bye. “See ya.”

He broke into a trot as he neared the exit doors, then stopped and leaned against a wall in the stairwell. He breathed deeply,
trying to collect himself. Had Dondi flirted with Clarissa just because he suspected Freddie liked her? But how would he know?
Not even Eric knew Freddie liked Clarissa. But why else would Dondi have paid any attention to a seventh-grader?

One thing was for sure: If Freddie wanted to get Clarissa to like him, he was going to have to get her attention away from
Dondi first.

The rest of that day, Freddie couldn't stop thinking about Dondi and Clarissa. He imagined Clarissa coming into the place
where Dondi worked. It was painful to imagine them together.

Well, he consoled himself, maybe Dondi wouldn't get a job. After all, not many people were willing to hire fourteen-year-olds.
And if he did get a job, it probably would be something nasty, like taking out smelly garbage from restaurant kitchens. Freddie
chuckled at the thought of Clarissa coming to visit Dondi at his job and being grossed out because he smelled like rotting
garbage.

But no such luck. That evening, Dondi burst into the kitchen, his fists raised in triumph and a big smug smile plastered all
over his face.

“Guess what—I got a job!” he crowed. “Say hello to the working dude, here. Yes! I am the man!”

Aida Ruiz rose from her chair to embrace her son. “My baby! That's fantastic!” she cried.

“Bueno,
Donovan. I'm proud of you,” Esteban said lightly. “Come, sit down, let's eat, and you'll tell us all about it.”

They sat down, and Dondi launched into his story. “I couldn't believe it—I figured I'd have to go into half a dozen places
before I found something. But I happened to go straight to Buddy's, first thing, 'cause I wanted to check out this excellent
snowboard.”

Buddy's Sporting Goods was Freddie's favorite store in all of Crestview. He had bought his baseball mitt there, and his Rollerblades
and hockey stick, and his soccer ball, and his tennis racket.

“And I see this sign in the window saying they're hiring part-time, and I figured, Well, that's me, so I go up to the guy
and show him my working papers, and he remembers me because I'm in there a lot, so he hires me! Is that awesome or what?”

Dondi's eyes were sparkling with joy. “And guess what else? I get to buy anything in the store at a special employee bargain
price! Man, I'm gonna get me some gooood stuff!” He clapped his hands delightedly
and dug into his food. “I'm gonna buy you something too, squirt, you'll see,” he told Freddie. “Something you'll like.”

Freddie was startled. Evidently, Dondi was in such a good mood that he'd decided he could afford to be nice to his brother.