Snowboard Showdown (5 page)

Freddie didn't argue with him. His own confidence had been shaken, and it was showing with every run he took. “I've got to
get a new board,” he muttered under his breath.

But where was he going to get one? New boards cost hundreds of dollars, as Freddie well knew.

Hey, maybe I could borrow a board!

He was in midrun when the thought hit him, and
he pulled out of a move early. He lost his concentration and fell hard, sliding for about fifty feet before he could get up
again.

“Boy, you're really messing up today,” Dondi said with a chuckle when Freddie reached the bottom.

Freddie barely heard him. He was already going over everyone he knew, trying to figure out where he could borrow a snowboard
for next Saturday. There was only one problem—everyone he knew who owned a good enough board was already in the contest!

Everyone, that was, except for two people, the two people he'd deliberately not invited—Nate Sherman and Brad Forest.

Freddie knew where to find them. They would be at the advanced slope—the one called the Vortex.

“I'll be back in a little while,” he told Dondi. “I've got to go find somebody.”

He was afraid Dondi would ask where he was going, or even want to come with him. But he needn't have worried. Dondi was too
busy waxing his new board to care what Freddie did. Freddie pushed off, heading toward the ski lifts.

D
on't even touch my board, okay, man?” Nate Sherman, six feet tall, all muscle, and almost fifteen years old, looked menacingly
down at Freddie. “I mean, don't even think about my board.”

“Like we're really going to do you a favor after you froze us out of your contest,” Brad Forest added. Brad had more freckles
than anyone Freddie had ever seen, and he always looked like he'd just tasted something bad. Maybe Brad sucked on lemons for
breakfast and that was why he looked like that, Freddie thought.

“Actually, I was going to invite you,” Freddie lied. “But I didn't think you liked the halfpipe. I mean, you guys are always
up here, doing slalom racing.”

“We could show you stuff on the halfpipe,” Nate
assured him. “Quit lying. You just didn't want us blowing away the competition.”

“What do you think we are—stupid?” Brad added. “Use your own board.”

“And what a beauty it is!” Nate chimed in. “Just look at all these nifty features!” He grabbed the board out of Freddie's
hands and tossed it to Brad. “Note the shredded look around the edges. Very retro.”

Brad pretended to admire it. “Smooth contours, Nate,” he said, in a fake TV announcer voice. “Wish I had one just like it,
don't you?”

“Ooh, can I borrow your crummy old board, Freddie? Please, please, please?” Nate taunted.

Freddie tried to grab his board but they kept pulling it away, handing it back and forth, keeping it out of his reach. “Give
it back!” Freddie demanded.

“Say please,” Brad demanded.

“Please,” Freddie said through gritted teeth.

“Ooh, I'm scared of him,” Nate said. “We'd better give big, bad Freddie his board.”

“Okay, Nate,” Brad said, handing it back to Freddie. “Please don't hurt us, sir,” he begged piteously.
Then both he and Nate cracked up, slapping each other five as Freddie grabbed his board back and began to trudge away, the
board tucked securely under his arm.

“Hey, wait a second,” Nate called after him. “Where're you going, son? I've got an idea.”

Freddie turned and looked at him but didn't say anything.

“I'll tell you what, Freddie, old pal,” Nate went on. “I'll lend you my board for the contest, on three conditions.”

“What?” Freddie asked, sure that this was just another twist of the knife.

“One: You take good care of it.” Nate smiled at Brad and winked. “Two: You give it back after.”

“Yeah? And three?” Freddie was half excited now. The first two conditions hadn't been too bad.

“Three: First, you have to come with us down Devil's Ravine.”

“Yeah!” Brad agreed, giving Nate a slamming high-five.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Freddie said. “I'm not ready to die just yet.”

“Ha! The chicken unmasked!” Nate crowed. He tucked his hands into his armpits and flapped his arms, making chicken noises
at Freddie.

Freddie paid no attention. He turned and started back toward the halfpipe. He had heard plenty about Devil's Ravine, although
he'd never been there. It was about a ten-minute walk from here, in an isolated part of the state forest that abutted the
Snowshoe ski resort.

Devil's Ravine had a bad reputation. It had been responsible for three broken wrists, two broken legs, and one really bad
injury—a boy who had spent six months in a coma before finally coming out of it. Freddie was not eager to join the list of
casualties, even it not taking the dare meant he'd lose the contest.

Well, that didn't work, he told himself matter-of-factly. Now what do I do? He sat down on a snowbank to think.

He couldn't come up with anyone else to borrow a board from. He wasn't about to steal one.

“Beg, borrow, or steal,” Freddie breathed, remembering the words to an old song he'd heard. “I guess begging is the only thing
left.”

Now that he thought of it, his birthday was only six weeks away. He was going to be thirteen. Maybe, just maybe, he could
talk his parents into getting him his present early.

It wasn't likely to happen, but at least it was a plan.

Freddie decided to ask his mother instead of his father.

“Mami,” he said, sitting down on the couch next to her that night and snuggling close the way he used to do when he was little.
It still felt just as good to be nestled in her arms.

“What is it, baby?” she asked in a soft voice, kissing him on the forehead.

“Do we have enough money?” Freddie wondered.

“Yes, sure we do… if we don't overspend, we'll be fine. Why, are you worried about it?”

“Well, you see, it's just that… well, my birthday's coming up, and I wasn't sure you were going to be able to get me anything.”

“Of course we're going to get you something!” his mother said with a laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

“I mean something good. Like a new snowboard or something.”

“Is that what you want for your birthday?” his mother asked.

“Uh-huh. But a new one, you know? Not from a garage sale.”

His mother sighed. “Mmmm, how much would that cost, about?” she asked.

“I don't know,” Freddie lied. Then he slipped it in. “A few hundred, maybe.”

“Wh—!”

“But you wouldn't have to give me a party or anything else at all, so you could use all that money to buy it for me!” Freddie
threw in hurriedly.

His mother relaxed a little. “Well, maybe we could swing it,” she said. “After all, it's not till March.”

“But I need it right away,” Freddie blurted out. “March will be too late!”

“Freddie,” his mother said, holding him at arm's length so she could look him in the eye, “is that what this is all about?
If you think I'm going to–”

“Winter is practically over by my birthday!” Freddie
pointed out. “I wouldn't be able to use it till
next winter
if you wait!”

Again, his mother stopped to consider his words. “I see your point,” she said, nodding. “I'll tell you what. I have to think
about this. Let me talk to Papi, and we'll let you know, okay?”

Freddie smiled and hugged her tight. “Thank you, Mami,” he said. “You're the best.”

“I didn't say you were getting it,” she cautioned him.

“I know,” said Freddie. “You're the best anyway.”

W
hen Freddie's mom said “We'll let you know,” it only ever meant one thing. So Freddie wasn't worried. In fact, he couldn't
help telling Steve and Eric about the new board he was going to get and what a big difference it was going to make next Saturday.

Steve was excited. “Man, I wondered when you were going to get rid of that old board,” he said.

“Hey,” Eric broke in. “He does pretty well on that old board,” he reminded Steve.

“Yeah, but you don't realize what a difference your board makes,” Freddie told Eric. Then he wished he hadn't said it. The
look on Eric's face was only there for an instant, but Freddie knew what it meant. Of course Eric didn't realize. He'd never
been on a snowboard; never would be.

“I'll take your word for it” was all his friend said.
Fortunately, the bell for first period sounded at that moment. “Well, I gotta go. See you guys in English.” He wheeled himself
away. Steve and Freddie turned in the other direction and headed for history class.

“I shouldn't have said that to Eric,” Freddie confessed.

“What?”

“'You don't realize what a difference your board makes.' It hurt Eric's feelings.”

“Ah, you're too sensitive,” Steve scoffed.

“No, I'm not,” Freddie said. “I ought to watch my mouth a lot more.”

Steve clapped him on the back. “You're okay,” he said. “You're a whole lot better than some people. Your brother, for instance.
Now let's get to history class.”

“Thanks,” Freddie said. But for some reason, the thought of Dondi being a worse person than him was troubling.

Freddie knew what his father would say: “You're both my boys. I love you both the same, and I know, deep inside, you're both
good boys.” That was Esteban. Freddie had had a whole lifetime to watch him, and he thought his dad was about the best person
on
Earth. One day, he hoped he could look at things the way Esteban did.

“Here we are,” Steve said, opening the door and going inside. Freddie followed him. Mrs. Ellis was not there yet, and everyone
was standing around in groups, talking.

Freddie spotted Clarissa looking over some marked tests on Mrs. Ellis's desk. He went up to her.

“Hi, guess what?” he greeted her.

“What?”

“I'm getting a new snowboard.” He flashed her a smile. That ought to impress her, he thought.

“So?” She stared at him as if he were from Mars.

Freddie felt himself blush. “Did you hear about the competition?”

“Dondi told me,” she replied. “Sounds like it's going to be pretty cool.”

“It's going to be awesome,” Freddie agreed, relaxing a little and allowing himself to smile at her. “Are you going?”

“Oh, definitely,” she said, smiling back. “I've never snowboarded myself, but it looks like a blast.”

“Yeah, it is,” Freddie said, nodding. “Especially with a brand-new board.”

“Dondi's got a new board too,” Clarissa said. “He showed it to me. It's awesome.”

“Yeah, but mine's going to be even better,” Freddie promised.

“You know,” Clarissa said, giving him a piercing look, “you ought to lay off competing so much with your brother. Don't you
think it's kind of immature?”

Freddie was speechless. He stood there as if struck by a lightning bolt. “I'm not—I mean, I d-don't–” he stammered.

Clarissa shook her head and sighed. “Dondi told me all about how you guys fight,” she said. “I think it's stupid.”

“He's the one who's always competing with me!” Freddie protested.

“Don't give me that,” Clarissa said, folding her arms. “He's told me about some of the stuff you've pulled.”

Freddie felt himself go red all over. He wanted to defend himself, to tell her his side. But it was no use. She'd never believe
him, not as long as she believed Dondi.

“Good morning, class!” Mrs. Ellis stood at the
door. With a glance at each other, Freddie and Clarissa returned to their seats.

Freddie sat there, oblivious to what was going on around him. He felt like strangling Dondi. Thanks to his big brother, Clarissa
thought he was an immature jerk!

That afternoon, Dondi and Freddie were on the halfpipe again. Freddie had decided not to strangle his brother after all. Instead,
he was going to show him a thing or two about snowboarding. New board or not, Freddie was going to prove once and for all
who was better.

He sat in the snow, waxing his old board with a new, superslick wax he'd bought at the Snowshoe ski shop. New boards ran a
lot slicker than old ones, Freddie knew. By using this superwax, he hoped to make his board act more like a new one.

When he was ready, he strapped the board on and leaned into the slope, taking off down the hill. He zigged and zagged a little
to get the feel of the board, then zipped up the wall and took the air.

Freddie could feel how much higher his increased
speed had taken him. He had time for an extra 180° twist. By the third jump, he had taken on so much speed that his lifts
were awe-inspiring.

“Wow, man, what did you do?” Dondi asked when Freddie reached the bottom.

“New kind of wax,” Freddie explained.

“Oh, man, gimme some of that,” Dondi said, reaching into Freddie's pocket.

Freddie grabbed the offending hand at the wrist and squeezed hard. “That's my wax,” he said. “Get your own.”

“You know I've got no money left over,” Dondi explained. “Everything's going to pay off the board. Come on, I'll pay you back
next month.”

“Forget it,” Freddie said. And then a thought hit him. He knew it was mean, kind of evil even. But the truth was, the superslick
wax was great for an old, rough-edged board—with a new board, it would probably make things too slick. He was surprised Dondi
didn't know that, but judging from the impatient look on his brother's face, he didn't.

Freddie had an image of Dondi slipping and
sliding all over the halfpipe. Even better, once the wax was on, it would be hard to get off. Dondi's practice might be set
back a day or even two!

“Oh, okay,” Freddie said, releasing Dondi's hand. “But you've got to buy me a new tin of wax next month. Deal?”

“Deal! Now gimme it!” Dondi grabbed the wax and sat down to wax his board.

Feeling slightly guilty, Freddie went back up the hill to try another run in the meantime. But he was going to get even with
Dondi for turning Clarissa against him. “He guessed I liked her when he asked her out,” Freddie muttered under his breath
as he launched into another run.

This time, he performed a series of grab combinations. He skidded to a stop right in front of Dondi and showered him with
powdery snow.