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.Jay felt like an underdogwith the world grinding against him& Try again suckers!For comfort he escaped to the dirty graffitified Westside withhis pit-bull, Puna, pulling him on his skateboard.Together they flewdown the curving neighborhood streets; grinding curbs all the wayto the mini-mart where they d split a burrito and a Sprite.Jay likedthe rhythmic whirl of the wheels against the pavement shuttlingbeneath him.He liked hearing his skateboard grind against thecement.He liked how gaining speed or altitude pumped adrenalineand electricity into his body.It made him feel alive like when theblood and ink mixed when he got his Jesus tattoo.Sometimes, hecaught a rough rim and flew head over heels into road rash or brokebones defying gravity at the ramp with his crew, the Rasta RampBoyz.One time, Jay broke his leg when flying through a frontsideollie and gravity slammed him down the eleven foot half pipe.Hecouldn t skate for almost three long months with his leg immobilizedin plaster up to his hip.The noise in his head became so loud thatone day, without seeing a doctor, he peeled the cast off himself.Hisleg was scrawny, pale, and itchy.He went straight back to theRasta Ramp with Puna pulling him at breakneck speed all the way.If Jay wasn t on the edge of something, the loneliness on the insidecaught up with him.If he wasn t bloodied or bruised, the boredomnipped at his heels with more ferocity than the jaws of his hound.Noise filled his mind all the time.He needed to stay moving so hedidn t have to listen to it.In English class today, I heard Jay wonder about Opheliaagain.Lately, his thoughts about her consumed him even above theother noisy thoughts.Where is she? He kept replaying the day sheleft like a favorite movie.A year ago her father took a job on theother side of the country, so she moved away. I won t forget you, Jay said. I know.I won t forget you either, Ophelia said. I ve never loved anyone before, Jay whispered,  and nowyou re leaving. Promise I ll write every day. Every day? Jay smiled at her. Well, maybe not every day.You know what I mean, Jay. Jay?He looked down into her eyes, waiting. I love you, too, Ophelia said,  and it hurts already.I m noteven gone yet. I know, Jay kissed the top of her head, because Ophelia sfather was watching them. Just send me letters, okay? Okay. That was the last thing she said to his face before shegot in the car and left.Jay stood on the sidewalk and watched her parents drive awaywith the only thing he d ever loved.She was the only thing in his lifethat hadn t hurt him.He let tears slide down his cheek unchecked,until they seeped into the corners of his mouth, tasting like an oceanof sorrow.Finally, he wiped them away with the back of his hand.His tears might as well have been blood because watching her exithis life twisted like a knife in his invisible heart, causing his eyes toleak.It broke my heart when he replayed that scene, because Iheard all his pain mingled in the memory.Every day when Jay was supposed to be doing his class work,he wrote letters to Ophelia and drew her little cartoons about aMartian he called Gorf.I could hear the constant noise in his head;it never stopped, like the wheels of a skateboard whirling throughhis mind.Why doesn t she answer my letters anymore? Why hasshe forgotten me? Jay kept all her letters with lipstick kisses andperfume in a Vans shoebox in his closet.She even sent him pictures.He put his favorite one of her wearing his T-shirt in his wallet.Hetold all his friends she was coming back and they were going to betogether forever.However, not a single letter in over three monthsmade his faith waver.He trusted her and now she was strangelysilent.Because of her, Jay learned about the tenderness of love.He d let her past the wall of scars he d been building since he wasfive and tasted blood for the first time [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]