Locker 13 by R.L. Stine Page A

So the idea is, we come skating down Broad Street full speed. We come rocketing down the steep slope as fast as we can—and try to skate right through the traffic on Miller.
    It makes all the car drivers totally crazy! You can always hear tires squealing, horns honking, drivers screaming as kids come skating right at them.
    Yes. It’s really dangerous. Most kids won’t even think of trying it. But for a guy with my kind of good luck, what’s the big deal?
    It was a sunny, cold Sunday afternoon. Frost stuck to the tops of the cars. My breath smoked up in front of me as I skated to the top of Killer Hill.
    I met Darnell up there. He was having trouble with the brake on one of his skates. Finally he just ripped the brake off and tossed it in a trash can. “Why do I need brakes?” he said, grinning at me. “They only slow you down.”
    Stretch and some of his pals appeared a few minutes later. Stretch was wearing some kind of yellow sweats. He looked like Big Bird on skates!
    He lowered his shoulder and tried to bump me off my feet. But I skated away easily. And he didn’t try again.
    Things have been a little different between Stretch and me since I took his place on the basketball team. He’s my backup now. He gets to play only when I’m tired and need a short rest. And I think he’s in shock over it.
    Stretch still tries to give me a hard time. But I don’t think his heart is in it. He knows he’s a loser. He knows he’s not one of the lucky people—like me.
    â€œYou ready to skate?” Darnell called. He pulled on his helmet. Then he stood in the middle of the street, leaning forward, hands on his knees.
    I gazed down the steep hill to the traffic below. Even though it was Sunday afternoon, cars and vans sped along Miller as if it were the afternoon rush hour.
    I adjusted my knee pads. “Ready,” I said. I moved beside Darnell.
    Stretch skated in front of us. He grinned at me. “How about a race?”
    I shook my head. “You’re too slow. Darnell and I don’t want to have to wait for you down there.”
    â€œHa ha. When did you get so funny, Champ?” Stretch reached into the pocket of his yellow sweats. He held up a ten-dollar bill. “Let’s make it a real race. Ten bucks each. Winner takes all.”
    He stuck the money in front of my face. I shoved it away. “I don’t take candy from babies,” I said. “Keep your money.”
    Stretch gritted his teeth. His pale face turned an angry red. He leaned close. “You gonna race me or not?” he growled.
    I squeezed the rubber skull in my pocket. I knew there was no way I could lose. “Okay,” I said. “But I’m going to make it fair.”
    I pulled a wool scarf from my coat pocket and started to wrap it around my head. “Just to give you a chance, I’ll skate blindfolded.”
    Stretch snickered. “You’re joking, right? You’re going to skate through all those cars blindfolded?”
    â€œDon’t do it, Luke!” a voice called.
    I turned to see Hannah waving to me. She was hobbling up the sidewalk on crutches. Her right foot had a large, white bandage over it. “Don’t do it!” she called shrilly.
    I spun away from the guys and skated over to her.
    â€œHannah—what happened?” I asked, motioning to the crutches.
    She sighed and leaned heavily on them. “It’s my ankle,” she said. “Remember when I fell off my bike? We thought it was just a sprain. But my ankle keeps swelling up like a water balloon. I had to have it drained three times.”
    â€œYuck,” I said, staring down at the bandage.
    The wind fluttered her red hair. She shook her head sadly. “The doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong. I—I might need surgery. I don’t know. And Mom says if it doesn’t get better, I can’t go on the junior high overnight on