Skate or Die

I sat in the back of the parked minivan and watched him ollie over the sewer grate. Big kids. So cool, so smooth as they popped their skateboards up on the loading docks. Rolled along with the front wheels held up and hovering over the concrete of the school parking lot. I wanted to be them.

I dragged the tail of my board on the pavement as I took a couple of quick steps forward before hopping on it. Chicken legs swimming in fat padded skate shoes. The loading dock with the coping was barely four inches off the ground, perfect for learning new tricks. It would call to me when I’d walk by the parking lot on my way to gym class. We’d have to wait for the administrators to leave the building after school though, otherwise they’d kick us out.

I spent a lot of time skating alone, practicing in my street, but I always preferred to skate with friends. We parked the car and pulled our boards out of the back. It’d been nearly eight years since we left the middle school, but the loading docks were the same as ever. The yellow lights in the parking lot let us see well enough to get our skate legs back. We rode late into the night.