You’ll Be There, Won’t You?

How many times did A-Bar jump over the ramp? Twenty, at least, with his smooth black hair slicking back over his shoulders, revealing the hicky that Samantha gave him earlier that day. His leather jacket flapped with the wind, and his jeans rippled like the deep sea’s waves. If you got close enough, maybe, just maybe some of his coolness would spread onto you.

A-Bar’s aura cast a net that spread all over Rockville. People from miles away, who had no interest in the sport, didn’t watch it on TV, nor even read people talking about it on the internet, would come and watch his backflips and his barrel rolls with gasps of oooo and ahhhh.

You’ll be there, won’t you? Sneak a beer from your parents’ fridge and have a day out on the town, watching the skaters lick and kick around the benches and parking garages of your hometown.

 

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