Dunc Gets Tweaked

Duncan—Dunc—Culpepper stood next to the starting gate of the track at the Speedway Skateboarding Park. He was watching his best friend, Amos Binder, put his crash helmet on. Amos was getting ready to compete in the Skateboard National Open, amateur division.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Amos?”

“It’s not a question of wanting to or not wanting to. I have to.”

“I’m not real clear on this ‘have to’ stuff,” Dunc said. “Maybe you better explain it to me again.”

Amos had his helmet on and was pulling up his kneepads. “It’s easy. All I have to do is win this championship.”

“And?”

“And Melissa will be so impressed she’ll be crazy about me forever.” Amos was madly in love with Melissa Hansen. Melissa Hansen didn’t know that Amos existed.

“But you’ve never skateboarded before in your life.”

“Yes, I have.”

“That driveway thing doesn’t count.” Amos had borrowed the neighbor’s skateboard once and tried riding it down the driveway. He did fine until he reached the street. The skateboard flew out from under his feet right into the window of a passing car.

“Poor Mrs. Watkins,” Amos said. “That skateboard passed right in front of her face. One of the wheels left a track on her nose.”

“She went to the newspaper with a story about a UFO.”

“I know. She was so frightened, she drove her car right into the living-room window of Mr. Meany.”

“The policeman,” Dunc said.

“Yeah.” Amos picked up his board and spun all four of its wheels. “He told me that as soon as I’m old enough, he’s going to put me in prison for life.”

“At least there you won’t get in trouble.”

“I don’t get in trouble now. You get me in trouble.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with the skateboard incident.”

“And you won’t have anything to do with this skateboard incident, either. For once, I’m not going to listen to any of your advice.”

“But you have to get advice from someone.”

“Then I’ll get it from somebody else.”

“Who—Lash?”

“Yeah.” Lash Malesky was Amos’s first cousin. He was a professional from San Diego and one of the best skateboarders in the country.

“He’ll tell you the same thing I tried to,” Dunc said. “He’ll tell you you’re crazy to try this.”

“He already told me that. When I
wouldn’t listen, he gave in and promised to tell me how to win.” He turned his head, and together he and Dunc watched one of the other competitors wait in the starting gate.

“
Now making his run
,” the announcer said over the loudspeaker,
“Billy Slide
.”

The whistle blew and the gate opened and Billy zipped out onto the track. He went down the course flipping up in the air doing somersaults. Right before the end, he pressed into a handstand. The crowd cheered.

“Even with Lash’s advice, you won’t be able to do that,” Dunc said.

“Except for the handstands I will.”

“How do you know that?”

“I have a secret weapon.”

“A secret weapon? What is it?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.” Amos smiled the way he did when he knew something that no one else knew. He cradled the board in his arms and waited for his turn.

“Hey, dudes.” They turned around. Lash was standing behind them, bobbing his head up and down and smiling. He was
wearing a fluorescent orange crash helmet and a pair of reflective sunglasses. He had a board in his hand with the word
Maggie
painted across the top of it.

“Hi, Lash,” Amos said. “Are you here to wish me luck?”

“Forget the luck,” Dunc said. “You better just give him some advice.”

“Radical,” Lash said. “Cut loose and bone out all your tricks. Rock and roll on all your axle grinds. Dig into a mctwist on this jam with a five-forty—so radical. Just totally insane.” He smiled and bobbed his head up and down again. Amos and Dunc looked at each other.

“Uh, thanks, Lash,” Amos said.

Lash nodded. He patted Amos on the back and walked away, still bobbing his head. Amos and Dunc watched him go.

“Did you understand a word he said?” Dunc asked.

“No. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up in San Diego.”

“Too much sun.”

“Yeah.” Amos spun the skateboard’s
wheels again. “So much for advice. At least I have my secret weapon.”

“And what’s that?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Come on, Amos. I’m your best friend.”

“So? Every time I tell you a secret, something bad happens.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Oh yeah? Remember the time I told you the secret about keeping the pet bat in my bedroom closet? That wasn’t good.”

“But it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t tell your mother a thing about it.”

“But she still found out. I lost a lamp, a mirror, and a bookshelf, and I got a pretty nasty bruise on my forehead.”

“And she broke the tennis racket. Remember?”

“I remember. She swung that thing like she was competing in Wimbledon, and the bat still got away.”

“But it wasn’t my fault,” Dunc repeated.

“It doesn’t make any difference. Something bad always happens when I tell you secrets.”

“Come on, Amos.”

Amos sighed. “All right. What was my biggest problem the last time I tried to skateboard?”

“Mr. Meany.”

“Besides him.”

“The fact that you’re such a klutz.”

“No. The biggest problem was, I couldn’t stay on the board. That’s where the secret weapon comes in. With it, I know I can do anything any other skateboarder can do, including Lash.”

“And what’s your secret weapon?”

“This.” He took a small plastic bottle out of his pocket.

“What’s that?”

“Epoxy glue.” He set the skateboard on the ground and put a couple drops of glue on it.

“Don’t do this, Amos,” Dunc said. “You’ll kill yourself.”

“No, I won’t.”

Dunc had to think fast. “Maybe you better just go home. What if Melissa calls and you’re not there?”

“I’m having all my calls transferred to the park. If she phones me, it’ll ring here.”

He put two more big drops of glue on the board and stood on it. He tried to pick up his feet. They wouldn’t come loose.

“Push me over to the gate.”

Dunc sighed and did as he was told.

“Now competing
,” the loudspeaker said,
“Amos Bender
.”

“That’s Binder,” Amos shouted. “Did you hear me? That’s Bi—”

The whistle blew and the gate opened and Amos was on the track.

He swayed from side to side, barely staying upright, and his shirt flapped in the breeze behind him like a whip. He smoked up one side of the track, did a flip, and came down the other.

Dunc didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but it didn’t matter. The crowd and the announcer loved it. It looked like Amos might actually make it to the end of the track without requiring any major surgery when the worst possible thing in the world that could happen happened.

The phone on the judges’ table rang.

Amos forgot about doing flips. He forgot about doing tricks of any kind. He forgot his
name. He leveled out the board and headed straight for the table, gaining speed all the way.

He was going well over fifty when he hit the rise at the end of the track right in front of the judges.

The board flew high up in the air, but he managed to reach down and grab the receiver as he arrowed straight toward a large tree.

The phone cord had ripped off the telephone, but Amos didn’t know that. A branch hit him across the stomach. He was moving so fast, he tore it off the tree right at the trunk. The branch tipped up in the air and took out three power lines as Amos landed with a crash in the parking lot.

The crowd was silent.

The loudspeaker was dead. The next contestant tried to start his run, but the electric gate wouldn’t open.

“Amos, are you all right?” Dunc ran down the length of the track to the parking lot.

There was no answer. Amos was lying in the branches with the receiver up to his ear.
His feet stuck up in the air, and the wheels of the skateboard spun crazily. A squirrel sat next to his head and chattered at him angrily.

“Amos,” Dunc repeated, “are you all right?”

“Hello? Hello?” Amos put the receiver down and looked up at Dunc with a disappointed expression.

“She hung up,” he said.