Read Bobby the Brave (Sometimes) for Free Online Page B

The Freezer probably has lots of important things to do.”

W hen Bobby got home, he found his father unsuccessfully trying to remove the living room curtains from the vacuum cleaner. Bobby was feeling on edge. It was like that queasy feeling he got when watching scary movies with Annie — he knew something bad was going to happen, but he didn’t know when. Except that Bobby knew he was doomed next Monday at 10 A.M. during PE.
    After greeting his dad, Bobby ditched his backpack in favor of his board and skated up and down his street. With each shuv-it, as he spun his skateboard 180 degrees, he loosened up. There was something liberating about skating. Planting your feet on the deck and the feeling of the sidewalk beneath you. The freedom of flight when you got air, and the hard solid landings when you ollied just right. Getting speed and then cruising. With skating, it was just Bobby and his board. No teams. No teacher. No rules.
    Casey was squealing as she ran around the front lawn and pretended the lawn gnome was chasing her. “Gnomey Gnome Gnome was abandoned and I rescued him,” she had told her mother. “You said you wanted something for the garden, and he’s practically as good as a moat!”
    â€œHey, Bobby, can I try?”
    Bobby was surprised to see his father watching him from the driveway. “Oh, uh, sure,” he told his dad. “You’ll need a brain bucket, though.” Mr. Ellis-Chan looked at him blankly. “A brain bucket is a helmet,” Bobby explained.
    â€œHow’s this?” his father said, returning with his LA Earthquakes football helmet.
    Bobby nodded. “That’ll do.”
    When his dad stepped on the skateboard and it bowed in the middle, Bobby grimaced. That was the board that Grammy and Gramps had let him pick out over the summer — the new Troy Eagle Pro 99 deck with Eagle trucks and Greased Lightning smooth-action titanium bearings. “Wait!” Bobby shouted. He ran into the house and brought out his old Troy Eagle Super 74 board. It was worn in all the right places from grinding the axles on the curb, the nose was battered from tricks, and there were Go Girly Girl stickers all over it courtesy of Casey, but otherwise it was in great shape.
    â€œHere, use this,” Bobby said, offering up his old skateboard.
    Mr. Ellis-Chan leapt on the board, then slowly he pushed off and headed down the street, gaining speed until …
    CRASH!
    â€œAre you okay?” Bobby yelled, running to his father.
    â€œWipeout!” Casey cried, hopping up and down and clapping. “Daddy wiped out! I’ll get my doctor’s kit.”
    Mr. Ellis-Chan looked stricken as he got up. Bobby stared at the skateboard. It had snapped in half.

    â€œI owe you one,” his father finally said. “I’m sorry, Bobby.”
    Bobby clutched his broken skateboard. That was the board he had learned kick turns on. He wanted to cry, but held back. “That’s okay, Dad,” he said. “I’ve got my new board.”
    â€œBut I broke it. I should have known better.”
    â€œReally, it’s okay,” Bobby insisted.
    â€œGuess I should just stick to football,” his dad mumbled. “I’m no Troy Eagle. Well, I’d better go start dinner.”
    Bobby stood holding his broken board as he watched his father trudge down the street toward home.
    Â 
    Later, while his father was downstairs in the kitchen stirring a big pot of something orange, Bobby checked in on Koloff and Beatrice. They looked bored. “Here,” he said, nudging the soccer ball with his finger. “Try pushing the ball.”
    Neither appeared interested.
    Rover could push his soccer ball into a net, and maneuver in and out of the hoops. Rover could follow Bobby’s hand signals to swim back and forth, and even do flips. Even though it had been nearly a month since Rover died, Bobby still thought about him every day. Sometimes