Chapter 13: Youth In Flight, Part 3

At what the skaters called the grind rail, Pranthi learned that skateboarding had its risks. One of Jack's friends had been trying ever more outrageous tricks. Pranthi suspected that his bottle of water was more alcohol than water. He got sloppier as the afternoon progressed. She set up fifteen feet from the end of the rail. Close enough to have mostly sky as background, far enough back that the person designated to protect her from flying skateboards didn't have much to do.

Duckman flew down the ramp and hit the grind on the rail, but when he came off he tried a one eighty. The board snapped when he landed and he went down hard. He didn't roll neatly but landed in a heap. Pranthi feared he'd killed himself, but he came up swearing, picked up on half of his board and threw it against the concrete. It bounced straight at Pranthi. She huddled around her camera and waited for the board to hit. There was the sound of wood on wood and the board flew past on one side of her.

Next thing Jack ran up to Duckman and screamed in his face. She couldn't make out what he said past the curse words. The other skaters didn't say much, but they stood between Pranthi and the altercation.

"Give me your board and I'll do it again," Duckman said, oblivious to the anger that surrounded him.

"Look at your leg," one of the other skaters said. "You busted it good."

"Nah," Duckman said, "I'm good."

Pranthi peered around the people blocking her. Duckman's face dripped sweat, but his eyes didn't look focused. He took a step toward Jack in what was probably supposed to be a threat and went down on the pavement again. White bone stuck through his jeans as blood spread on the cement.

The skaters dragged him off to the side where one called an ambulance while Duckman cursed him out. The rest rinsed the blood off the cement.

"Can't skate where it's wet," Jack said. "Let's try the bowl." He helped her up. "You okay? Some people don't handle that kind of stuff."

"I've seen worse," Pranthi said. Her legs ached at the memory, but she pushed it aside.

She took some photos from the top of the bowl, and set the camera for slow motion video with a wide-angle lens at the bottom. The skaters zoomed past, up the side to do handstands and other tricks Pranthi couldn't name. Not one came close to hitting the tripod in the bowl. Jack fetched her camera, then collected names and emails from all the skaters, even Duckman's, before Pranthi called the taxi to take her home. Just before she climbed into the taxi, Jack put his hat on her head.

"If you're going to be the photographer for the skaters," he said, "you've got to have the look."

As she processed the pictures and chose the best, Pranthi had to push down the envy at the casual way the skaters threw their bodies into the air. She posted a few shots on her blog and Jack put some on his page. Some of the skaters even bought pictures. She managed another couple of visits to the skate park before the first snows came.

The snow made her wish, as it did every year, that she lived somewhere warmer. Her walk was slow at the best of times, in the snow she barely managed to move at all for fear of falling.

So instead of fighting the weather she put away her winter clothes and stayed indoors, walking up and down the hallways to keep her legs from atrophying completely. Jack put some music on her iPod that roared and growled through her ear buds. The anger in it matched her determination. She wore Jack's hat and listened to his music as she forced her legs to drag her up and down the halls.

The other doors in the hall started showing Christmas decorations. Jack asked her one day why she didn't decorate.

"I'm Hindu," she said, "we have Diwali, but it is in a different month each year in the fall. I don't really do Christmas."

Jack shrugged and left it at that.

Just before Christmas, Jack knocked on her door.

"Hi," he said, "I bought you these before I knew you didn't do Christmas. Is it okay?"

"Gifts are always okay between friends," Pranthi said. She rolled back to let him in.

"It's weird how you don't have anywhere to sit," Jack leaned against the counter.

"Why spend money on chairs I don't need?" she said. "But maybe I should buy some for when a friend comes to visit."

The package from Jack held another hat and a hoodie with what looked like a fur lining.

"You like it?"

"It is wonderful," Pranthi said. "It will keep me warm." She rolled into her office and Jack followed.

"I sold a photo essay to a skate magazine," she said and handed him a copy. The front page was Jack sailing through the air with nothing but clouds in the background.

"No way!" he said. "That's sick." He flipped through the magazine.

"You may keep that copy," Pranthi said. "They sent me a few. I have something else to show you. I do mostly photography, but I've been playing with the video we took." She clicked on a file and a video of the skaters in the bowl came on. She'd cut slow speed and faster speeds and put some pauses in. The background music snarled like the songs he'd given her on the iPod.

"You have to post that," Jack said. "It's amazing." He made her play it half a dozen times. She copied it onto a thumb drive for him and told him he could post it for her.

"Just wait until the summer," he said, "we're going to blow some minds."

Pranthi walked and rolled through January and February. Jack came down to visit after school and on weekends when he wasn't out snowboarding. They made a couple more videos together.

She was shocked to realize she missed him the days he couldn't make it.