Skateboard Blues Page 8

  "We'll talk later!" I yelled back to him. I crossed the street and dashed inside our house.

  In my room, lying sprawled on my bed, I cried for nearly an hour. Mom always said crying was good for you, and for once, her words made sense.

  Feeling a little better, I sat up and blew my nose. I tried to sort out my thoughts. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions. Maybe things weren't as bad as it appeared. So what was there left to do? My choices were clear. I'd either drop Cam on the spot and forget we'd ever met, or I'd keep my suspicions to myself and pretend everything was okay.

  The answer became suddenly clear. I loved Cam too much to risk trashing our relationship yet. I'd stick it out till I saw this...this Mandy whoever-she-was with my very own eyes!

  The next few weeks, we worked every night on the proposal. Pete, Andy, Nick, and Megan agreed to recruit more skateboarders and chair the committees while Cam and I headed up the PR.

  It was crazy! I'd never talked to so many business-people in my life: the city recreation director, the president of Rotary and the Lions Club, the head of the community relations department at the university—the list went on and on.

  I was surprised to learn that the people were more supportive of the skate park than I'd ever dreamed. Most everyone agreed it made sense to give us a safe place to skate where we wouldn't be getting in the way. Still, as Cam had pointed out in the beginning, our one big hang-up was money. Though a few citizens had offered small donations, it wasn't nearly enough to cover the costs.

  I didn't have to wait for the council meeting to know that Preston could only provide a mere fraction of what we needed. Though Dad had been quick to point that out, he'd stood by watching our efforts with what I figured must be silent admiration. Maybe it wasn't all in vain, I tried to console myself.

  My biggest problem, though, was working alongside Cam, trying to act normal. My moods constantly swung from one extreme to the other. One minute I believed I was the luckiest girl alive, the next minute I felt doomed, knowing he'd undoubtedly rather be with Mandy. Every time he kissed me, I wanted to burst into tears.

  If Cam noticed my moodiness, he never let on. In fact he never again mentioned my quick exit from his house after Mandy's phone call. I longed to believe he'd put up with my behavior because he really liked me. Or did he simply not care?

  At last the day of the city council meeting arrived. By then, the task force had slaved over that proposal for hours, and we were ready to give it our best shot.

  "I can't stand it!" I told Megan after school as we walked home together. "Tonight's the city council meeting—I thought it'd never get here—but now I'm scared out of my wits."

  We crossed the student parking lot and turned onto a sidewalk.

  "Yeah, it is kind of nerve-wracking thinking about standing up in front of all those people," she said.

  "Oh, I didn't mean that." I shrugged. "After making that speech to the student body last year, speaking to a few council members should be easy. Even if my dad is one of them."

  "Now you sound confident." She giggled. "As I remember, Jessie, you were so nervous that day you almost got sick right there on the spot."

  "Well, that was a long time ago," I reminded her. "Maybe I've changed since then. After all the stuff I've been through—helping with Dad's campaign, getting this proposal together—I'm feeling a lot more confident."

  "Good." She moved a stack of pee-chees to her other hand. "So exactly why are you so nervous?"

  "I'm thinking about Cam." I hunched my shoulders against the brisk March wind. Across the farmer's field that bordered our school, a multicolored kite inched skyward, soaring on a current of air.

  "Cam makes you nervous?" She sent me an incredulous look. "I don't get it."

  "It's not that Cam makes me nervous," I tried to explain."I just keep wondering if this is the beginning of the end." I chewed on my lower lip. "After the city council meeting, we should have a fairly good idea whether or not we'll get the skate park. Either way, Cam won't need me anymore."

  "Oh, Jessie, don't be silly. What makes you so sure of that?"

  I told her about the letter I'd discovered in his dining room and the call from California. These past weeks, I'd nearly gone crazy holding it inside.

  We turned right down Maple Street. Blowing dust whipped past us, and I squinted to keep it out of my eyes.

  "Well, if he's got another girlfriend, I think you should refuse to help him," Megan said. "Let him head up the skate park proposal by himself."

  "It'd serve him right, too," I said. My heart turned over. Suddenly the thought of dumping Cam made me want to burst into a new flood of tears.

  "Then why not just do it?"

  "I can't."

  "Why not, for heaven's sake?"

  I shrugged. "It's too complicated to try to explain."

  She snapped her chewing gum and grinned. "Let's face it. Cam's got you hooked. Maybe Rocky and Mike were right when they said you're naïve."

  "Maybe," I half-heartedly agreed, "but there's a lot more to it than that. I guess now I want to see this skate park happen as much as Cam does. Besides, what would Fr. O'Riley say if he discovered I'd backed out? He was the one who told us we needed to prove ourselves. I can't let him down."

  Later that night, Cam and I took our places inside the council chambers. Biting my lip, I glanced at my watch. Seven twenty-two. Only eight more minutes to go.

  The sounds of muffled conversation drifted my way. A few of the people who'd helped with Dad's campaign sat in front of us, and one of them turned around and smiled. I smiled back, feeling a funny little quiver from somewhere inside of me.

  Just then Pete, Megan, and Andy wandered in and sat down at the end of our row. I had to admit, my self-confidence was slipping a little, despite what I'd said to Megan about not being scared. We simply had to make a good impression. The skaters had worked hard to get the word out. We needed lots of supporters that night to prove we meant business.

  I looked over at Dad, who was positioned at the center of the table between the assistant mayor and Mr. Granley, the parks and recreation director. At the far end sat the police chief and the utilities superintendent. Everyone looked so...so official with their white shirts and ties and carefully typed agendas before them.

  As more kids filled the empty chairs, Dad turned to Mr. Granley and murmured something in his ear.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the entrance to the room was packed. Mr. Crosham, who was directing traffic inside, grinned from ear-to-ear. Pretty soon there'd be standing room only!

  I nudged Cam. "Where are all those kids coming from?" I whispered. "I can't believe it!"

  He flashed me a satisfied smile. "Believe it. Our efforts have paid off. Don't you see what this means, Jessie? There are more kids in town who want to skate than we ever expected!"

  I returned his smile, but my insides were quaking. After tonight, it'd be a no-win situation. No matter what the outcome, I'd end up losing him.

  He reached for my hand, but without thinking, I jerked it back. I couldn't bear to look at him, to see the reaction that undoubtedly had registered on his face. Why oh why did life have to be so complicated?

  In seconds the meeting was underway. The parks director talked about planting new trees on the north end of the community playground. Dad authorized an agreement for putting in a traffic light at a busy intersection, and the council proceeded to review the city's franchise agreement with the local garbage disposal.

  Then it was our turn.

  Cam stood up and faced the city fathers. A hush fell over the room. He began outlining the proposal. My heart twisted as I listened to him talking. He looked so self-assured standing there, his handsome face intent. He was a born leader all right. A real winner, as Fr. O'Riley had said. What I wouldn't give to know he was mine.

  After location, insurance, and maintenance were discussed, he assured the council that the skaters would help with organizing fundraisers. He paused for a moment and looke
d down at me. "Now Jessica Williams will conclude by talking about public relations." My knees shook as I rose slowly from my seat. I looked at Dad. He smiled proudly. I opened my mouth, but nothing would come out.

  At last I got up my nerve. For an instant, I could almost see Fr. O'Riley sitting there next to my dad, also silently cheering me on. New courage filled me.

  With quavering voice, I began. "Mayor Williams, members of the council, the city of Preston has long needed the skate park we've proposed. It will reduce the possibility of someone skating into a pedestrian or a car. It will make the shop owners happy because we won't clutter their parking lots and sidewalks." I glanced at Mr. Crosham. Nodding, he flashed me an approving smile.

  I cleared my throat and went on. "Furthermore, a skate park in Preston would help remind the citizens that skateboarding is in fact a real sport. After all, it's already been widely accepted and is included in well-known competitions as the Winter Olympics and the X games." I hesitated for a moment. "Our skate park would also attract positive attention from neighboring communities that might also be considering a project like this."

  Next I presented a list of the organizations we'd contacted. Though most had promised to help with the labor, they would only donate small sums of money. Would the city be willing to meet us half-way? I asked.

  Scanning the room, I waited for the council's reaction. A shuffling of feet, the sound of someone coughing filled the awkward silence.

  Then Dad spoke. "The most likely site for a skate park in Preston is Addleman Park because of its central location. The city can donate the 5000 square feet of land you'll need. However, a far greater problem exists. As some of you know, the amount of monies budgeted for recreation is discouragingly small. Last year, we barely managed to raise enough funds through a special election to reopen the community swimming pool."

  "Mayor Williams," Cam said, rising again.

  "Yes?" Dad's eyebrows shot up.

  "Perhaps we've forgotten another possibility. I said earlier that the skaters would help build the skate park, but that's not all we can do. We'll help raise the money. We can wash cars, mow lawns, paint houses, even hit up the skate shops to donate a few of their top name boards so we can sponsor a raffle. We can also put on skating demonstrations downtown so people can see us in action."

  Cam to the rescue! His quick thinking had saved the day.

  Dad's grin grew wider. A murmur of approval rippled throughout the room.

  "Then the issue is not dead," Dad said heartily. "I move we table the skate park project for further discussion."

  "I second," the police chief put in.

  The vote was unanimous.

  Chapter Twelve

  "I sure hope this Spaghetti feed pays off!" I said to Megan. I dumped a big pot of boiling noodles into a stainless steel colander and added, "at least it's a nice change from washing cars."

  She ripped open a big package of napkins. "You can say that again! All we've done lately is work, work, work. Just look at my nails. I can't even keep a decent coat of polish."

  I couldn't help smiling. Leave it to Megan to worry about her nail polish. Still, she'd joined in our efforts whole-heartedly. She was even skating as well as I—thanks to Pete.

  "Aw, poor baby" Pete teased from the corner of the kitchen. The tangy smells of spaghetti sauce filled the room. "Better not let her do dishes tonight, Jessie. Next she'll be complaining of dishpan hands."

  Nick strode in from the dining room. "We've filled all the pitchers of ice water, but we're running a little low on forks and knives. Got some extras?"

  "Check the second drawer down," I replied, nodding to my right. Everyone, including a few new recruits, was doing a terrific job. What I wouldn't give for Fr. O'Riley to see us now!

  For the past four-and-a-half weeks, we'd worked hard on fundraisers. On Saturdays and Sundays we'd washed cars at the Shell station on Main Street and every afternoon after school, we'd hit the pavement selling raffle tickets. Now, with the help of our parents, we were sponsoring a spaghetti feed in the basement at the Youth Services Center.

  All this time, Cam was busier than ever working at New World Skates.

  "I just hope all our efforts will be worth it," I said under my breath to Megan. Secretly I feared the skate park project was dying a slow, excruciating death. "So far, we've earned just a little less than a couple of thousand dollars," I continued. "We're going to need lots more than that to meet our quota."

  I'd been elected the Task Force treasurer, and I kept a close watch on our funds. Things weren't looking good, but I vowed I'd hold out till the very last moment before I let the rest of the kids know that.

  "At least this dinner should bring in lots of bucks," she answered brightly. "Almost everyone likes spaghetti!" She unwrapped a loaf of French bread and began slicing it. "Is Cam going to make it in time for the raffle drawing?"

  "I hope so. After all, he's the one who talked his boss into donating three skateboards for the prizes."

  Because most of the people who'd turned out for the dinner had also bought raffle tickets, we'd decided to have the drawing as soon as everyone finished eating. I'd even parted with some of my hard-earned money and stuffed five tickets into the box we'd decorated with skateboard stickers. What I wouldn't give to win one of those shiny new boards!

  "Cam's sure been working a lot lately," Megan said.

  I groaned, then darted her a wary look. "So you've noticed too. I hardly see him anymore." My heart sank to the pit of my stomach as I continued, "I think he's trying to break me in gently. He's trying to get me used to living without him."

  "Oh, Jessie, don't get all paranoid." Her voice registered impatience. "Look, I know you're crushing hard on him, but I think you need a little vacation."

  "Vacation!" I nearly dropped the pot I was rinsing in the sink. "I hardly see him as it is."

  "I mean a real vacation, where you can think things out. Like spring break."

  I nodded. "I've been looking forward to it forever."

  "Good! Then come with my family to the beach for a few days. Mom's already made reservations at one of the coolest resorts on the coast. She said I can bring along anyone I want."

  I swallowed hard. Maybe a little distance from Cam would help me sort out my thoughts. "Okay. If my parents say I can go, then I'll do it! It sounds like—"

  My sister popped into the kitchen, carrying three cans of ground coffee. "Can I announce the raffle winner tonight? Pl-e-e-a-se, Jessie!" She set the cans on the counter with a thud.

  Grinning, I answered. "Sure. You can even draw the names out of the box." For some reason, I felt especially agreeable with my sister that night. She'd been a big help getting ready for the spaghetti feed. I don't know what had come over her—or maybe it was because I'd been trying a little harder to make her feel included.

  "Here, help me with the tossed green salad," I went on. "There are more tomatoes in the fridge."

  She began tearing a head of Romaine into bite-size pieces.

  I glanced out into the dining area, hoping Cam might show. Rows of tables with red-and-white checkered coverings and votive candles lined the room. Yet the only people mingling by the entrance were Megan's parents who'd agreed to be ticket-takers.

  "Jessie, are we running short on supplies?" Mom breezed into the kitchen a minute later. "I'll run over to the store if you need anything."

  "Thanks, but I think we're all set." The clock above the kitchen sink told me it was five-forty-seven. Soon the crowds would arrive. At least I hoped there'd be crowds. We certainly couldn't afford for this event to be a big flop.

  For the next couple of hours, we turned out one plate of spaghetti after another. Still, Cam didn't show. If I hadn't been so busy, I probably couldn't have hidden my disappointment as well as I did.

  Megan, though, wouldn't be fooled. She saw right through me, and was cool enough to let me vent.

  "What a jerk!" I said. Ceramic plates rattled as I loaded them into the dishwasher. "Ca
m's the one who told the city council we could take on all these fundraisers, and now he's not even here to help out!"

  "He's sold tons of raffle tickets," she reminded me. "And he did turn out every time we washed cars, even though he was late."

  She was right. As usual. He had done more than his share so far. How could I begrudge him a little overtime at work? Whisking off my apron, I peeked through the kitchen door into the dining area. Several families were seated at the tables: the man who owned the sporting goods store, the movie theater owner, the elderly couple who ran the family clothing store—and yes, even Mr. Crosham!

  "Any idea how much we've made tonight?" I asked my friend. The dishwasher hummed, nearly drowning out her reply.

  "Yeah, I checked with my folks a few minutes ago. It looks as if we've cleared another thousand." Her eyes were pleading. "That's going to help a lot—isn't it?"

  I sighed. "Sure, everything helps. But we're still nowhere close to our goal. I don't know about you, but I'm about ready to quit. How much harder can we work?"

  She slumped onto a wooden bench and stared down at her shoes. "Good question. We can't keep giving spaghetti dinners for the rest of our lives."

  Exhausted, I sat down alongside her. Silently, I studied the brown-and-beige tile floor beneath my feet. What were we going to do?

  "Hey, why the long faces? It's almost time for the drawing!"

  "Cam! Where've you been?" I jumped up and threw my arms around him.

  "Working." He kissed me lightly, then grinned. "I told you I might be late."

  "You're always working." By then I was so overjoyed to see him, it sounded more like a statement than a complaint. Funny how quickly I could forget about my misgivings the minute he appeared.

  "And now I'm ready for more," he said," his smile growing wider. "From the looks of the crowds out there, they'll be plenty of tables to wipe down and floors to sweep."

  "Don’t let looks fool you." I told him about the ticket sales and how far away we were from meeting our goal. I hadn't meant to color the moment with gloom and doom, but somehow it'd just slipped out.