AMRA AND THE SKATEBOARD

The skateboard flew down the hill. Buzzing over the pavement, it passed by houses with manicured gardens and freshly cut grass, and whizzed past prim and proper homeowners— middle‐aged mothers with beehive haircuts and stern‐looking fathers with Oxford button‐ downs tucked into crisp khaki pants. At the bottom of the hill, it slammed into the curb and landed violently on its side.

Amra was searching for worms in her front yard. She was on her hands and knees when she heard the whizzing crack. Startled, she shot her head up and scanned the scene. She saw the skateboard to her right, lying on the sidewalk. To her left, high up on the hill, she saw a gaggle of boys. Blinding rays of light carved out their silhouetted figures. The outlines of kneepads and helmets could be made out, as well as other skateboards, some held like canes, others like briefcases. One among the crew was sitting on his bottom, rocking back and forth in mild pain. He had wiped out. Amra walked over to the skateboard. She took it into her hands and looked up toward the boys.

One of them beckoned to her with his hand. “Bring it up!” he called out. The thought of interacting with them set her nerves on edge. She was only 10. They were older—high‐schoolers. Amra slowly walked the skateboard to the top. The boys stood there expressionless. “Thanks kid,” the one who wiped out said. He walked over and took the skateboard from Amra’s arms.

“Can I try?” she asked him. The boys laughed. “You’re just a kid,” Wipe Out said. “And you’re a girl,” added another. More laughter. Amra shot an angry look. “Let me try!” Wipe Out smirked. “Okay,” he said, and handed back the skateboard.

Amra laid it on the pavement and rolled it back and forth to get the feel of the concrete. Stepping her left foot onto the front of the skateboard, she crouched and shot off, zipping down the hill and landing on a strip of grass along the sidewalk. When she lifted the skateboard over her head in triumph, the boys were dumbfounded.