Snowboard Showdown (7 page)

Dondi's eyes grew menacing. “You're lucky Papi's around, squirt, or I'd make you pay for that.”

“Step outside and make me pay,” Freddie challenged him.

“No, I don't think so,” Dondi said with an above-it-all air. “Mami and Papi wouldn't approve of my beating you up.”

“Chicken.”

“And it's not that at all, Freddie. Really.”

“Oh, sure it isn't. I believe that.”

“Actually, I've decided the halfpipe is played out. I'm getting into downhill.”

“Downhill?” And then Freddie knew where Dondi had gone that afternoon when he'd walked away
from the halfpipe. “This is all about Brad and Nate, isn't it?” he asked.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact,” Dondi admitted.

“I knew it!” Freddie said. “They're always saying how lame the halfpipe is and how it's no challenge for them anymore.”

“For me either,” Dondi said, thrusting his chin out defiantly. “You want to race me on the downhill, fine. I'm up for it anytime
you are. Forget the half-pipe.”

Freddie shook his head in dismay. Dondi had completely turned the tables on him. All his plans for the competition, and now
Dondi was pulling out, just like that. “You stupid lame jerk!” Freddie cried. “You're chickening out and you know it!”

“Okay, that's it!” Dondi said, raising his fists.

Freddie leaped at him, sending him reeling backward. The two boys collapsed onto the sofa, their fists flying at each other.
Freddie took a shot to the eye, then in a fury started flailing for all he was worth.

Suddenly, he was yanked away by strong hands. “Dondi!” his father shouted. “Stop this right now. Go wait for the school bus!”

“Yes, Papi,” Dondi said, dusting himself off and grabbing his book bag. “But he star—”

“I don't want to hear about it!” Esteban said firmly in a tone Freddie hadn't heard from him in months. “Leave the house,
now!”

Dondi clucked his tongue. “You always think it's my fault,” he grumbled as he went outside, slamming the front door behind
him.

Esteban turned to Freddie. “And you!” he said, his jaw tight. “What did you promise me? What?”

Freddie looked down at the floor. He wished he could just disappear right then and there. He'd promised his dad he'd be a
good brother to Dondi, and he'd broken his word.

“I'm sorry, Papi,” he said. “It won't happen again.”

His dad looked closely into his face and sighed. “You look like you're going to get a shiner on that eye. Go put an ice pack
on it.”

Freddie winced. He could already feel the eye swelling up. “Great,” he said. “I'm going to be late for school, too.”

“I'll drive you,” Esteban said. “First, clean yourself up.”

Freddie went to the kitchen and took out the ice pack that was always there for an emergency. A black eye, a competition without
a rival, and now Papi was disappointed in him again. What a great way to start the day.

F
reddie had left the competition in the capable hands of Eric Schwartz, and Eric did not disappoint. On Saturday afternoon,
the halfpipe was crowded with onlookers: kids from the middle school, mostly, some with their parents or brothers and sisters.
There had to be at least a hundred people, Freddie estimated.

He looked around for Clarissa but didn't see her in the crowd.

She was probably watching Dondi on the downhill slopes, Freddie knew. He felt like crying. All these other people were going
to see him do his thing on his new board, and he barely even cared. Why bother, if she wasn't there?

Esteban and Aida weren't, either. Neither Freddie nor Dondi had wanted them around to see this
competition. Dondi hadn't wanted them to see him lose, Freddie figured. And as for Freddie himself, he didn't want them catching
on to the fact that he'd set Dondi up.

Oh, well, it didn't matter now. In fact, now that Dondi wasn't here, he wished he'd invited his parents. At least they would
have seen how good he was and known the money they'd spent on his new board hadn't been wasted.

Freddie said hello to Eric, Steve, the other competitors, and lots of other people he knew. Eric was seated behind a long
table, where he would be judging the boarders on the quality of their moves. Over his head was a banner that read
CRESTVIEW MIDDLE SCHOOL SNOWBOARDING CONTEST.

Sighing, Freddie headed up to the top of the half-pipe.

A few minutes later, there was a loud squawk as Eric turned on the megaphone he'd borrowed for the day. His voice reverberated
out over the white landscape, echoing off the slopes. “Good afternoon, everyone,” he said. “And welcome to the first-ever
Crestview Middle School snowboarding contest!” Freddie saw the crowd applauding, but he couldn't
hear anything except whistling and hooting. The gloves people were wearing muffled the clapping.

“I'm your host, Eric Schwartz, thank you very much.” Another wild burst of whistles and whoops. “Thank you. As I was saying
before I was so rudely interrupted, today's contestants are…”

He went on to name them. Freddie looked around at the small knot of kids, each wearing a number on his or her back. Freddie
was number 1, reflecting his precontest rating. Eric had made up those ratings himself. As the top-ranked boarder, Freddie
would get to go last.

He wished the other boarders good luck, as his father had taught him to do. “It doesn't jinx you to wish other people the
best,” he would say. “It means you hope they do their best and you do your best, and let the best one win. You understand,
Freddie?”

He hadn't then, but now Freddie thought he was starting to get the bigger picture. He certainly felt that way today. “Good
luck, Veronica, Paul, Les,” he said, slapping five with each of them. “Cheryl… Hey, Steve.” He gave Steve a big bear hug.

“Dondi's a creep for not being here,” Steve said in Freddie's ear.

“Yeah, well, what are you gonna do?” Freddie replied with a shrug. “Go out there and do like I showed you, man.”

Steve gave him a thumbs-up. He was wearing the number 4 on his back, but that was only because Eric had been charitable. Steve
hadn't wanted to go first—or to wear number 6, for that matter. It would have been embarrassing. None of the other contestants
had complained, even if they whispered about it in private.

Les Buckman went first. As he went through his first run—each contestant would get two runs—Eric called out each move as it
was made. “Method… stalefish… lien air,” he announced as Les did a series of grabs. Les completed them all and landed okay,
but there was nothing inspiring about the performance, Freddie noticed. The applause was polite, except for Les's family and
best friends, who whooped it up as best they could.

Next was Cheryl Abercrombie. She was pretty good, Freddie knew. She got a lot of air on her
stunts, but she also fell a lot. That's what happened this time, on her fifth and final move—a full 360° turn. She spun out
at the bottom and lay on the ground for a few moments before slowly getting up and unstrapping her board.

After each run, Eric would announce the boarder's score. There were individual scores for each move and an overall score for
the run on a scale of 0 to 10. Les had scored a 7.0 for his overall—Eric was obviously feeling generous today, Freddie thought—and
Cheryl had scored a 6.5. She surely would have beaten Les if she hadn't fallen. Now she'd have to step it up and try harder
stuff just to catch up.

Steve was next. Freddie watched with his fingers crossed as Steve headed down the halfpipe. Steve looked nervous heading into
his first move. But once he got into the air, he led with his waist, just as Freddie had taught him, and landed a 360° turn.
It was the hardest move in Steve's bag of tricks, and he'd done it perfectly!

Now he moved with more confidence, more relaxation. “Shifty,” Eric announced as Steve wiggled his board from side to side
in midair. “Method… method… and a stalefish,” he said as Steve twisted
right, reaching around with his left hand to grab the left rear side of the board. He landed with a wobble and then skidded
into the fence that protected the spectators. “Let's give him a hand for that outstanding performance!” Eric said. “Steve
Myers—that's an 8.5, a 7.0, and a 6.0, with an overall score of 7.25!”

Steve pumped his arms in the air. For one brief shining moment, at least, he was in first place—the king of the world. Freddie
grinned, feeling great for Steve. “That's my boy!” he shouted, applauding and whistling. “Go, Steve!”

It was Veronica McBride's turn now. Veronica had always been an outstanding athlete. She was on Freddie's baseball team, and
she was the best first baseman in the league. She was tied for third in home runs and first in stolen bases. All-star all
the way. She was not a bad snowboarder either, and she'd been at it for only two years.

“Nose grab… tail grab… lien air…” Eric's voice echoed up to Freddie. “And a full three-sixty!”

“Man, she's good,” said Paul Pierog, the number-two ranked boarder whom they'd invited to join the contest when Dondi quit.
Paul was an eighth-grader and had to be at least six feet tall. He played center
for the basketball team and was also captain of the chess team. Sort of an athletic brainiac, Freddie mused. A nice kid, too,
and he did some beautiful moves. A sky-high 360°, a combo method/shifty, and a nose grab/tail grab, among others. He ended
with an overall 8.75. Pretty good.

Paul's run would have made anything Dondi could do look pathetic, Freddie thought, sighing. But Freddie knew he himself could
beat Paul's run with even a half-decent performance.

Adrenaline shot through Freddie's system when he heard Eric call his name and number. He slid straight down the halfpipe,
gathering speed for his first jump. Launching high into the air, he twisted into a full 360° turn, grabbing the nose of his
board at the same time. So high had he gone that he could have done an extra half turn.

And that was exactly what he did next—an incredible 540°! He landed smoothly, hearing the roar of the crowd from below. He
had lost hardly any speed, and now on the spur of the moment he decided to try something he'd never done before—two complete
turns. A 720°! Why not? he reasoned.
Who cared if he fell? Clarissa wasn't there to see it. Neither was Dondi, or his parents.

Freddie crouched down a little as he approached the top of the wall and sprung into the twist just as he caught air. The ground
below him spun as he turned at top speed, once around, then twice! He hit the slope hard but managed to stay on his board.
Two final grab moves completed his incredible run, and he skidded to a stop, his fist pumping high over his head.

“… for an incredible 9.5 overall, folks!” Eric was yelling.

Freddie felt the exhilaration for only a moment. Then he remembered that it was all for nothing, and his shoulders slumped.

Then he saw his parents watching him with pride plastered all over their smiling faces. He went over to them and gave them
each a big hug. “How'd you know about this?” he asked.

“Some big secret,” Aida said. “Your friends calling all the time, leaving messages. The article in the newspaper.”

“We're so proud of you, son,” his father said, hugging him.

“It's the new board,” Freddie said. “Thanks again, you guys.”

“We're so glad we got it for you,” his mom said.

Then Eric's voice came through the megaphone again. “Time for the second and final run, everyone. Boarders, take your positions.”

“I'd better get going,” Freddie said.

“Good luck, son,” Esteban said, waving after him.

The second run went much like the first. Freddie, who was feeling loose as a goose, added all kinds of flourishes to his second
run and finished far ahead of the competition.

Afterward, when Eric presented him with the trophy, Freddie held it aloft to show the crowd. He smiled and waved his thanks
as they applauded him. But inside, he felt emptier than ever. Without Dondi in the competition, it was a hollow triumph.

As he followed his parents back to the lodge, he caught sight of Dondi, talking with Nate and Brad—and Clarissa. Freddie felt
the lump rise in his throat and he beat his trophy against his thigh in frustration.

“What's the matter, Freddie?” his mother asked, her brow furrowed anxiously.

“Nothing. It's nothing,” Freddie muttered. “Let's just get out of here, okay?” he asked, tucking his board under his arm and
trudging toward the exit, not looking behind him even once.

Dondi did not come home in the car with them. He was going to get a ride with Clarissa's parents—Dondi was taking her to the
movies at the mall.

All night long, Freddie lay in bed, watching the TV but not really paying attention. His mind was on Dondi and Clarissa. Right
about now, they'd be sitting in the movie theater… in the dark… and Dondi would be sneaking his arm around her shoulders….

When Dondi finally got home, he was in a mood to rub it in. This day, which was supposed to be the day of Freddie's triumph,
had turned into a day of absolute, total misery.

“Hey, squirt!” Dondi said, poking his head into the bedroom. “Bedtime so early?”

“Shut up,” Freddie muttered.

“Excuse me? I didn't hear you,” Dondi said, coming in. “Would you like to say that real loud, so Mami and Papi can hear you?”

“I said shut up!” Freddie said, raising his voice just enough but not too much.

“Ooh, Freddie's feeling cranky tonight,” Dondi said, smiling mischievously. “Maybe I can cheer you up. Want to hear about
the movie we saw? Me and Clarissa?”

“Jerk!” Freddie spat out. “I hate you!”

“Aw, shucks, brother,” Dondi said. “That's not very sporting of you. And I heard you were quite the sport today. King of the
halfpipe peewee league, huh? Got a big plastic trophy too, I see. Very nice.” Dondi picked up the trophy and tossed it from
hand to hand.

“Get your hands off it!” Freddie leapt up out of bed and yanked the trophy from Dondi's grasp.

“Touchy, touchy,” Dondi said, backing up a step. “Sorry I spoiled your big day,” he said. “But Papi is right, you know. Brothers
shouldn't compete. It's immature.”