himself.
“Well, hello there, Brett,” she said when she opened the door. “You’re a little early for skateboarding, but I guess it would be all right, just this once …”
“That’s not why I came over, Mrs. Weatherspoon,” he blurted. “I wanted to give you this.” He shoved the tin into her hands.
Her eyes opened wide in surprise and then she broke into a smile when she took off the lid. “Chocolate chip — my favorite.”
“Mine, too,” said Brett, grinning. “I made them for you.”
“You did? Why, that was so thoughtful of you, to go to all that trouble, just for me. Would you like to come in and have some?” She held the screen door open for him, and he stepped inside.
“I don’t want to bother you,” Brett said. “I just wanted to say thank you, for all you’ve done for us skateboarders. First the rink, and now you’re putting on a contest …”
Mrs. Weatherspoon’s smile faded. “About the contest, Brett, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Come here and sit down.” She sat on her sofa.
Brett sat on the edge next to her, feeling his earlier nervousness return.
“It looks as though we’re going to have to postpone the contest for a while,” she said.
“Why?” Brett blurted. “What happened?”
Mrs. Weatherspoon leaned back, as if she were tired. “Your friend Thurman did a great job of spreading the word —”
“My friend who?”
“Thurman — the one who knows so much about skateboarding.”
“Oh, you must mean W.E.,” Brett said with a short laugh. “We call him Walking Encyclopedia.”
With a name like Thurman,
Brett thought,
it’s no wonder he uses a nickname.
“Well, he certainly is that. Anyway, he spread the word quickly, and I received a few telephone calls last night. It seems that some of the parents in town aren’t so enthusiastic about the idea.”
Brett immediately thought of his mother’s reaction.
She must have put the nix on this,
he concluded.
She probably called her friends and got them all stirred up. It was just like her.
He felt a warm flush rising in his face.
“I can understand their point,” Mrs. Weatherspoon went on. “They are concerned about safety, and my liability in case of an accident.”
“But that won’t happen!” Brett cried, nearly jumping out of his seat. “We’ll be careful.”
Mrs. Weatherspoon patted his knee and said softly, “No matter how careful you might be, accidents happen.” She put on a smile, as if she were trying to cheer him up. “Anyway, that isn’t the real problem — I have insurance — but I don’t want to go against parents’ wishes. I just need more time to get everyone on our side, okay?”
In this town that could take forever,
Brett wanted to say, but he remained silent. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth now he might start to cry.
Mrs. Weatherspoon read the disappointment on his face. “Don’t worry, Brett. It’ll all work out, I’m sure.”
Brett felt like a cat trapped in a box, and he wanted to scratch and claw his way out. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he had to get outside. “I gotta go,” he said abruptly, as he strode to the door.
“Thanks again for the cookies. That was very kind. I’ll see you later, when you come back to skate?” She sounded uncertain.
“Yeah, sure,” Brett mumbled. He ran down the steps, his eyes blurring.
He swiped the tears off his face angrily. It was so unfair! What did this stupid town have against skateboarding? Why did his family have to move from Ridgeville in the first place? The kids just wanted to have some innocent fun.
But the contest was more than that for Brett, he had to admit. It was going to be the culmination of all his hard work, his chance to achieve his dream. Now he might never get to show people what he could do, to show that he was the best at his chosen sport.
Too bad for him that his chosen sport was one that Springton didn’t allow.
Brett slammed the door behind him when he arrived
“Well, hello there, Brett,” she said when she opened the door. “You’re a little early for skateboarding, but I guess it would be all right, just this once …”
“That’s not why I came over, Mrs. Weatherspoon,” he blurted. “I wanted to give you this.” He shoved the tin into her hands.
Her eyes opened wide in surprise and then she broke into a smile when she took off the lid. “Chocolate chip — my favorite.”
“Mine, too,” said Brett, grinning. “I made them for you.”
“You did? Why, that was so thoughtful of you, to go to all that trouble, just for me. Would you like to come in and have some?” She held the screen door open for him, and he stepped inside.
“I don’t want to bother you,” Brett said. “I just wanted to say thank you, for all you’ve done for us skateboarders. First the rink, and now you’re putting on a contest …”
Mrs. Weatherspoon’s smile faded. “About the contest, Brett, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Come here and sit down.” She sat on her sofa.
Brett sat on the edge next to her, feeling his earlier nervousness return.
“It looks as though we’re going to have to postpone the contest for a while,” she said.
“Why?” Brett blurted. “What happened?”
Mrs. Weatherspoon leaned back, as if she were tired. “Your friend Thurman did a great job of spreading the word —”
“My friend who?”
“Thurman — the one who knows so much about skateboarding.”
“Oh, you must mean W.E.,” Brett said with a short laugh. “We call him Walking Encyclopedia.”
With a name like Thurman,
Brett thought,
it’s no wonder he uses a nickname.
“Well, he certainly is that. Anyway, he spread the word quickly, and I received a few telephone calls last night. It seems that some of the parents in town aren’t so enthusiastic about the idea.”
Brett immediately thought of his mother’s reaction.
She must have put the nix on this,
he concluded.
She probably called her friends and got them all stirred up. It was just like her.
He felt a warm flush rising in his face.
“I can understand their point,” Mrs. Weatherspoon went on. “They are concerned about safety, and my liability in case of an accident.”
“But that won’t happen!” Brett cried, nearly jumping out of his seat. “We’ll be careful.”
Mrs. Weatherspoon patted his knee and said softly, “No matter how careful you might be, accidents happen.” She put on a smile, as if she were trying to cheer him up. “Anyway, that isn’t the real problem — I have insurance — but I don’t want to go against parents’ wishes. I just need more time to get everyone on our side, okay?”
In this town that could take forever,
Brett wanted to say, but he remained silent. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth now he might start to cry.
Mrs. Weatherspoon read the disappointment on his face. “Don’t worry, Brett. It’ll all work out, I’m sure.”
Brett felt like a cat trapped in a box, and he wanted to scratch and claw his way out. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he had to get outside. “I gotta go,” he said abruptly, as he strode to the door.
“Thanks again for the cookies. That was very kind. I’ll see you later, when you come back to skate?” She sounded uncertain.
“Yeah, sure,” Brett mumbled. He ran down the steps, his eyes blurring.
He swiped the tears off his face angrily. It was so unfair! What did this stupid town have against skateboarding? Why did his family have to move from Ridgeville in the first place? The kids just wanted to have some innocent fun.
But the contest was more than that for Brett, he had to admit. It was going to be the culmination of all his hard work, his chance to achieve his dream. Now he might never get to show people what he could do, to show that he was the best at his chosen sport.
Too bad for him that his chosen sport was one that Springton didn’t allow.
Brett slammed the door behind him when he arrived
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