NIGHT RIDER

Thomas wasn’t interested in having a girlfriend. Between school, his job at the skateboard shop, and longboard racing, he couldn’t be bothered. At least, that’s what he told himself. But that all changed one gray, blustery Sunday afternoon in late October. As Thomas and his buddy, Anthony, were slaloming down the hill on Oak Street on their longboards, they were suddenly passed as if they were standing still.

“What the—?” Thomas managed. Someone had just rolled by them — someone on a longboard, going insanely fast. That alone was enough to get Thomas’s attention. But there was something more. It wasn’t a dude on the longboard. It was a girl. She looked over her shoulder at Thomas and smiled, and he felt something like an electric jolt—then almost tumbled off his board.

“Who the heck was that?” he yelled, sliding to a stop and watching the girl rocket down the hill.

“New girl at school,” Anthony said, pulling up next to Thomas. “A real thrill seeker, if the rumors are true. My sister said her name is Amy . . . but forget about it. She’s way out of your league, bro.”

“Might not matter,” Thomas said, starting down the hill again. “She’s in trouble.”

Amy was about to cross four lanes of traffic. “Dude, this is gonna be bad,” Anthony said. As Amy approached the intersection, she crouched down to gain more speed. Thomas closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch. There was a scream of brakes and wailing car horns. Thomas automatically reached for the cell phone in his pocket, ready to punch in 911.

“Awesome,” Anthony said, laughing and slapping Thomas on the back. Thomas still couldn’t look.

“She’s dead, right?” “Check it out,” Anthony said.

Thomas opened his eyes and saw Amy on the other side of traffic, arms raised over her head, riding her longboard down the center of the street like she owned it. When she looked back up the hill and waved, there was no doubt about it. Thomas just knew. She was waving at him.

“I’ve gotta meet her,” Thomas murmured as he watched Amy disappear around a corner. “Can your sister get me her number?”

Anthony raced ahead and called back, “She’s bad news. You sure you want to deal with that?”

Thomas kicked his board down the hill and caught up with Anthony as they turned a sharp corner, avoiding the peril Amy had just navigated.

“I’m sure. Just ask her, okay?”

“It’s your funeral, man,” Anthony said with a shake of his head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Thomas couldn’t restrain himself. “Yes!” he shouted with a fist pump. He pointed his deck downhill and followed after Anthony.

The next morning, even before Thomas was out of bed, he sent Anthony a text: HEY BRO GOT HER #? He sent another text five minutes later: U THERE? And then another five minutes after that: WHASUP? A dozen texts later, he finally got a reply from Anthony: PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE.

Being patient was the last thing on Thomas’s mind. He couldn’t help it. There was something about Amy that he just couldn’t shake. He had to meet her. Thomas forced himself to take a deep breath. Anthony was his friend. He wouldn’t let him down.

The long-awaited text from Anthony came during the middle of second period. It included Amy’s number and a message: U OWE ME BRO. BE CAREFUL. WHATEVER U NEED!

Thomas texted back immediately, barely able to contain his excitement. But then he realized he had a new problem. And this one was way serious. What was he going to text her that didn’t come across as lame or stupid?

He tried out and then rejected dozens of texts between classes. When he noticed he was starting to repeat him- self, he decided it was time to just go for it. He typed in the message: HEY AMY. GOT UR # FROM A FRIEND. SAW U ON OAK ST HILL ON SUN.

He held his breath, and then tapped the send button. A few minutes later, he felt his phone vibrate. It was her. And instead of telling him to drop dead, she asked: WHAT DID U THINK?

“How cool is that!” Thomas said to himself. He quickly replied: WOW. JUST W.O.W.

There was a flurry of text messages after that:

WHAT’S UR NAME?

THOMAS

U THE CHICKEN I SAW YESTERDAY?

YEP THOUGHT U AND FRIEND WOULD FOLLOW???

LOL WE AREN’T NUTS

WIMPS?

YEAH.

LOL.

WANNA MEET AND TALK RACING BOARDS AND STUFF?

WHEN?

TONIGHT. 6?

WHERE?

JUNE BUG.

IS THIS A DATE?

June Bug was a café downtown with overpriced coffee, a good place to chill and get to know each other.

Thomas arrived at Mrs. Sykes’s science class and slumped into his seat without answering. is this a date? He stared at the words, not sure how to answer, then put his phone away as Mrs. Sykes introduced a video they were going to watch about DNA and the human genome project.

When the class finally let out, he had decided on his answer.

HOW ABOUT WE CALL IT A START?

He sent the text and crossed his fingers. And then he waited. By lunchtime, Amy still hadn’t replied. Thomas was so nervous he couldn’t eat. He spent the entire time wander- ing around the cafeteria, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He wasn’t sure they even shared the same lunch break, but it couldn’t hurt to look. When he walked past Anthony, his friend took one glance at him and just rolled his eyes.

“You’re on another planet, man,” he said.

Toward the end of sixth period, Thomas still hadn’t received a reply from Amy. Guess that tells me what she thought of my answer, he thought morosely. Stupid. That’s when his cell phone buzzed. He was afraid to look at it, but he took a deep breath and held the screen where he could see it, just out of the teacher’s sight.

SEE U THERE!

“That’s what I’m talking about!” he yelled.

And then he realized that everyone in class was staring at him.

“Is there a problem, Thomas?” his teacher, Mr. Gordon, barked. He was saved by the bell . . . literally. As the kids in the classroom scrambled to their feet, Mr. Gordon just waved dismissively at Thomas. Whew.

Normally, Thomas didn’t think much about what he was wearing. But that night was special, so he decided to head home before the date and raid the laundry room for clean clothes. He put on his lucky jeans, a clean unwrinkled T-shirt, and the new Silverfish hoodie he’d received as a birthday present from his parents. He checked his face, ran a hand through his hair, grabbed his board, and was on his way to June Bug by five thirty.

What was typically a fifteen-minute ride on his longboard took just seven. Thomas grabbed an empty table by the front window and immediately noticed a server giving him the hairy eyeball.

“I’m waiting for my date,” he explained.

“Goody for you,” she said sarcastically. “What can I get you while you wait?”

Thomas was in such a great mood, her sarcasm didn’t even bother him.

“How about a mocha latte for starters . . . with lots of whipped cream.”

Halfway through his mocha, Thomas glanced nervously at the clock on the wall. 5:50. Still plenty of time. He double checked to make sure his phone was on, and then filled the time by going over some questions he wanted to ask her. Where are you from? When did you start longboard racing? Got a favorite brand of wheel? How did you manage to cross that intersection without having a car drive over you? The next time Thomas looked at the clock, it was six. The café was getting crowded.

He tugged at the strings on his hoodie and stared out the window. Sirens howled faintly in the distance. The streetlights outside looked like balls of glowing cotton candy against a mist that covered everything with a gray smear. He saw someone move in the mist, and his heart began beating faster with anticipation—but then an old guy with a walker stepped out of the dark and into the pale pool of light beyond the window.

“Anything else?” The server stood next to the table, glaring at him. He could tell what she was thinking: Order something else or get outta here.

“Uh, yeah, how about another mocha?”

The server rolled her eyes and turned on her heels. By 6:10, Thomas was starting to get worried. He pulled out his phone and sent Amy a text:

WHERE R U?

And then he waited. While his heart sank slowly toward his toes, he didn’t look at the clock; he didn’t even touch his mocha. The minutes slipped by, and he wondered how he was going to explain this to Anthony: I’m a stupid idiot and you were right. She is out of my league. . . . When Thomas’s phone buzzed, he was so startled he nearly knocked over his drink. He checked the number. It was Amy. And then he noticed the message. It made absolutely no sense:

COLD SO FALLS THE VACANT NIGHT49.

Thomas’s hands were trembling as he replied:

?????????

Ten minutes later, there was still no reply from Amy. If Thomas had chosen to throw in the towel and go home, it might have ended right there. Hurt feelings, but that’s all. But he continued to wait for Amy. He ordered dessert, barely touched it, checked his phone ten more times. Finally, after what felt like hours, he glanced out the front window— and there was Amy racing by on her longboard. When their eyes met, her face stretched into a grin, but she didn’t stop. . . . Thomas hesitated—something about that smile made him shiver—but then his unease faded. He dug out a twenty-dollar bill, tossed it on the table, grabbed his long- board, and dashed for the door.

Once outside, he dropped his board onto the sidewalk, and in one quick motion, he was in hot pursuit. He couldn’t let her go. He just couldn’t.

“Amy!” he yelled. “Amy! Wait up. It’s me . . . !”