Bubble Wrap
Chapter Three
I was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast when I heard my parents coming down the stairs. I could hear them whispering, "You tell him" and, "No, you tell him" and then, "Fine, I'll tell him."
My parents came and sat across from me at the table. My dad's face was scrunched up like he was having trouble forming a sentence.
"Your mother and I have signed you up for a voice class two days a week," he finally said.
"WHAT!?" I yelled.
My mother just said, "How do you expect to sing in the talent show in the summer? Last year, no one enjoyed your little skateboard stunts."
"But I enjoyed skateboarding last year!"
"But NO, you will not be skateboarding this year!" she said angrily.
"But-"
"If I hear another 'but', you will be out of this house! You will be going to your singing lessons on Wednesdays and Fridays, no exceptions," she instructed.
"Whatever."
"I said, no exceptions. Plus, I will be telling Ted to make sure you get completely inside the building, because I have been getting reports from the care center that you have been skipping."
Shit!
So I guess I'm going to be forced to sing in the talent show. Every year, my parents throw this huge party for their company. There's a talent show for the guests and hosts to be in. I've been forced to do the talent show every year since I was twelve. At least I'll be able to choose the song I'm going to sing...I hope.
Ted dropped me off at the Patterson's house. I knocked on the door and Freddie answered it.
"Hey man! Sweet, you brought skateboards!" he said. Then he called to his brother, "Rob! Get your ass down here!"
Rob came running down the stairs. When he saw me, he said, "What the hell! You could've told me that Derek was here!" And with that, he ran back up the stairs.
"What was that about?" I asked Freddie.
"He was making you some cds or something. He told me to tell him to make them when you got here. But he's a loser, so I didn't."
When Rob came downstairs again, he held out a stack of cds to me. I took them and thanked him, but didn't ask why he made them.
I called Ted to pick us up, and he brought us to the skate park. We got out of the car and walked up to the gate. We were about to walk in when a security guard walked up to us and blocked our way.
"Do you have passes?" he asked. His voice was deep, but his shiny bald head distracted me from what he was saying. The twins and Ted shook their heads. "I'm afraid I can't let you in without a pass," he continued.
"What!?" I asked a little too loudly.
"This skate park is under new ownership. Passes are now required in order to enter the skate park," the large security guard said robotically.
"And where can we get these passes?" Ted asked politely. The guard pointed toward a little skate shop near the entrance of the skate park. We walked over and stopped at the door.
"They tried to make it look cool. But even if the world ended before we got to establish a colony on another planet, it wouldn't be," Rob said. I gave him a weird look, as in saying, "WTF?".
But then Freddie said, "Yeah. Plus, it doesn't even look like a friendly place. It looks like it could be a tiny-"
"Haunted house," Rob finished for him.
"Exactly," Freddie agreed. And I couldn't agree with them more.
The whole place was painted black. Black doors, black windows, black roof. Except for the sign. It was bright blue with graffiti style purple letters, that said, "SK8, DON'T H8".
"Wowzers..." I said sarcastically.
Then we walked into the shop. There were skateboards lining the walls and wheels under the clear floor. The cashier was wearing a splatter painted t-shirt with the name of the shop on it. He didn't look very happy to be there.
"Welcome to SK8, DON'T H8, may I help you?" he said, his voice dripping with boredom.
"What's the deal with the skate park passes?" Ted asked nicely.
"The new owner wants to make a profit off the skate park so he's selling passes. You can only buy them here. There are day passes and monthly passes. Day passes cost eight dollars each and monthly passes are one hundred fifty dollars each," he said nonchalantly. It was as though he was reading from an invisible script in front of his face. His eye contact was terrible, and he wasn't the slightest bit friendly and his lack of enthusiasm was even worse.
"There is definitely something wrong with that! How can you go from skating for free to skating for one fucking hundred fifty freaking bucks!? This is crap!" I shouted at him, slamming a fist down on the counter.
"Not my rules, dude, I just work here," he said, a little entertained.
A/N
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~Jess~ xx
