Brazen Girl by Ali Dean Page 0,29
intent on his little speech. “First, that you absolutely adore my daughter. And second, that you have integrity. You have the first, but I haven’t known you long enough to determine if you meet the second criteria. So far, I feel confident enough in Jordan’s judgment to give you the benefit of the doubt. Unless you prove me wrong.”
Colleen pats him on the arm. “Honey, if you’re trying to be all tough and intimidating, it’s not working. You’ll always come off as a friendly teddy bear, no matter how hard you try.”
“It’s really up to Jordan at this point,” I admit. “I’ll basically do anything she wants me to do.”
“Um, so what’s for dessert?” she asks, clearly wanting out of this conversation.
The rest of us laugh.
“Actually, I figured you’d want a break from us by now,” Ted admits. “Why don’t you take him for ice cream?”
“Oh yeah, maybe we can go to The Swirl. I know you probably don’t want to go where you work, but you’ve been talking up that ice cream for a while so you gotta take me while I’m here.”
“Yeah, the ice cream game just isn’t as strong in Summerside. You need to taste the good stuff.”
I should have known as soon as we were together again, it’d be easy. When it’s just us doing our thing, there’s nothing to question. I know we can’t hide from the outside world forever, but at least I know that if we still have this, it’s worth fighting for.
Jordan swings on the chair hanging from the front porch the next morning. “You really want to go back to The Swirl again? We just had breakfast an hour ago.”
“No, we can go after we skate a little. I want to check out the park you grew up at.”
I can’t wait to skate with her again.
“Beck?”
“Yeah.” I don’t like the way she sounds uncertain.
“I have to tell you something.”
My heart drops to my stomach. Oh no, please don’t wreck this perfect moment, this series of perfect moments. I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold my shit together if she tells me…
“I can’t skateboard anymore.”
That sends me sliding back in my chair in shock. “I thought you said the doctor cleared you three weeks ago.”
“She did.”
I wait, the relief that it’s not what I feared overshadowed by confusion.
“You know, I didn’t even touch my skateboard until three weeks ago. Like, I could have at least skated around flat surfaces, done flat ground tricks before I was cleared.”
Jordan’s been looking out at the street but now she turns to face me.
“I told myself I wasn’t doing that because it would be too frustrating. But once I got the all clear to really skate, I still couldn’t do it.”
“What do you mean, you couldn’t do it?”
“I went to the park. Drove there even though we can skate there. I told myself it was because it was so cold and a little icy. But then I got there, and I only made it ten feet. I didn’t want to go in the bowl, the rails, over the stairs, down a ramp. Just turned around and came home.”
“You only tried that once?”
“I was waiting until I really wanted to.”
“You don’t want to skate?”
She looks at her hands for a long moment before answering. “I don’t know. I miss it. But there’s something stopping me I guess.”
“You scared you’ll get hurt? That’s totally understandable, Jordan.”
“I don’t think that’s it. I know I won’t get hurt skating down a ramp or even just carving through a bowl.”
“I think we should go skate somewhere right now, today. You go any longer and whatever barrier’s stopping you will only get bigger.”
“I was kind of hoping it’d come back with you here.”
“The park by your house, will it be crowded?”
“Most people are at school or work right now, so doubt it.”
“Come on, we’ll go for a little bit, then get some ice cream, yeah?’
She gives me a little smile. “Yeah.”
Her parents carpooled to work, leaving us a car, and I don’t say anything when we take it just to go less than a mile away.
There’s only one guy skating around, wearing headphones and not paying attention to us.
Jordan’s never been one of those people who stands around taking it all in before she starts skating. When she gets to a skatepark, she’s off without another word like she can’t wait a second longer. Today, she drops her board to the ground and stares at her foot on it, unmoving.