Snowboard Maverick (3 page)

Dennis had long since grown past the age where he would write annual letters to Santa, telling him what he wanted for Christmas.
These days, he usually just dropped hints to his parents and hoped for the best.

Since his parents were sure to be out for a while longer, Dennis decided he would go back outside and do some more skateboarding.
The local half-pipe was pretty well snowed under, and most of the curbs were banked high with shoveled drifts, so he was limited
to the sidewalks. That wouldn’t stop him from doing lots of his patented tricks, though. He could do some radical aerials
and ollies, and even one or two grinds if he could find a clear curb to slide against.

For the rest of the afternoon, he skateboarded on every available surface. Most of the time, though, he spent pretending he
was on a snowboard, flying down a powder-covered mountainside at breakneck speed, feeling not even a whisper of fear. He was
so lost in his fantasies that, by the time he got tired and headed home, the sun was just about to go down behind Ford’s Mountain.
His parents would be back by now. He sure hoped they were in a good mood, because he was about to ask them for the biggest
favor of his life.

H
is parents’ station wagon was in the driveway, and when he opened the kitchen door, Dennis could smell apple pie baking in
the oven. It was his all-time favorite. He stowed Flash in the closet and yelled “Hi!” before disappearing into the bathroom
to wash up.

In the bathroom mirror, he practiced asking for a snowboard for Christmas. “Mom … Dad … I was just wondering if you’d already
bought me anything… .” No, that didn’t sound right. Kind of ungrateful, like he didn’t trust them to buy him something.

“Do you think you could return whatever it is you’ve already bought me?” Definitely not. It wouldn’t work, and besides, it
might hurt their feelings.

Downstairs, Dennis heard the front door opening and closing and then the crying of his baby sister, Elizabeth.

“Dennis?” His dad’s voice called. “Where are you hiding?”

“Right up here, Dad,” Dennis called back. Not sure if his dad had heard him over the crying of the baby, Dennis decided to
quit practicing in front of the mirror and go help out downstairs. He would be as nice and polite and helpful as he could
be, and wait for the perfect moment to ask for a snowboard as a Christmas present.

“Dennis, there are some gifts for your cousins and for Grandpa and Grandma out in the trunk,” his dad said, putting his coat
in the hall closet as Dennis came bounding down the stairs. “Would you mind?”

“No problem, Dad,” Dennis said, hopping straight to it.

“And don’t worry, there’s plenty of goodies for you, too,” his father assured him with a wink.

“Oh,” Dennis said, stopping at the door to cringe at this news. If they’d already gotten him a bunch of stuff, it wasn’t very
likely they’d agree to get him yet another big, expensive present.

“Did I say something wrong?” Mr. O’Malley asked, looking puzzled.

“Oh — no, Dad, that’s great!” Dennis said, recovering his enthusiasm.

“Yes, but I don’t want you to get a look at any of those before we wrap them. They’re in the backseat. I’m trusting you not
to peek, okay?”

“Me?” Dennis replied. “Me, peek?”

They shared a laugh, then Dennis said, “Okay, Dad. I won’t spoil the surprise.” He pulled the door open and headed out to
the driveway. Popping the trunk, he gathered up the shopping bags to take inside. He was sorely tempted to look in the backseat
— not to peek, really. Just to see if there was anything vaguely shaped like, say, a snowboard or something.

But he didn’t. Keeping his promise to his dad, he went straight back inside. There was still plenty of time before Christmas.
Tonight. He’d ask them tonight, at supper maybe….

But as it turned out, the right time never came. All evening, baby Elizabeth was cranky and fretful, and at one point during
dinner she threw a whole mess of her food onto the floor. Then their dog, Felix,
who both looked and ate like a bear, made a rush for the spilled baby food. He knocked over the tray that held the serving
dishes, and they went down, too! Mrs. O’Malley got upset at Felix, because one of the serving dishes had been a wedding present
from her great-aunt who’d died, and the whole evening went downhill from there. Dennis decided his plea for a snowboard would
have to wait till tomorrow.

That night, he couldn’t seem to get to sleep. He lay in the dark, envisioning all those kids snowboarding down Schoolhouse
Hill. Then he would see himself up at the top of Ford’s Mountain, launching himself down the Challenger Trail. Then he’d check
the numbers on his digital alarm clock, and it would be a half hour later than the last time he’d looked.

Finally, at seven o’clock, he couldn’t take it anymore. He got up, dressed, washed, and checked to see if anyone else was
up yet. He didn’t hear a sound. Apparently, after crying all evening, baby Elizabeth was sleeping it off, and so were his
mom and dad, who had been awake, humoring her, till after midnight.

Dennis decided to do something really nice for them. He knew his dad really liked blueberry muffins, especially the kind they
made at the Muffin Man
downtown. Every morning, there was a line outside that place, even in a snowstorm. Dennis grabbed Flash, his jacket, and a
pocketful of money from his bank, and scooted out the door.

It was a beautiful, cold morning, and Dennis’s breath steamed as he skateboarded down the streets. He started humming under
his breath as he went — the tune from the network sports shows, sort of like in a movie, where there’s music as the hero rushes
to the rescue. Dennis did a few smooth turns wherever the sidewalk widened out. Somehow, some way, he was going to talk his
parents into getting him a snowboard.

By the time he returned home, his bag of fresh, warm blueberry and cranberry muffins tucked securely under his arm, he could
smell coffee brewing in the kitchen. “Ta-da!” he sang as he entered, holding up the bag of muffins. “Ho, ho, ho! It’s me,
Santa Claus, and I come bearing gifts!”

“Dennis!” his mother said with a laugh. She’d been feeding the baby and held a spoonful of pureed prunes in her hand. “I thought
you were still asleep!”

“What have you got there, son?” his dad asked.

“Your favorite — muffins from the Muffin Man!” Dennis replied, enjoying the look of pleased surprise on his dad’s face.

“Wow! I can’t believe this!” Mr. O’Malley said. “That’s so nice of you, Dennis.”

“Isn’t he the sweetest boy?” his mom added, giving him a hug as he put the muffins down. Normally Dennis hated when his mom
called him sweet or “sweetie” or stuff like that. Today, though, he didn’t even mind. So long as they were both happy with
him and in a good mood.

As they sat down to eat, Dennis’s dad got a puzzled look on his face. “You know,” he said, “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful
or anything, but I get a funny feeling you had a special reason for getting these muffins for us. Am I wrong?”

That got Dennis’s mom annoyed. “Russell!” she said. “What a thing to say! Dennis doesn’t need to have any special hidden reason
for being nice. He’s that way by nature. He doesn’t need any other reason than that it’s almost Christmas. Do you, sweetheart?”

Dennis tried hard to sink into his shoes. He felt his face go red, and he stared down at his muffin like
there was a spider on it or something. “Well, actually,” he said, squirming, “to tell you the truth, there
was
something…”

Rats! This wasn’t the way he’d wanted to tell them. But as far as he could see, there wasn’t any way out now.

“I was kind of hoping … see, everyone’s getting into snowboarding this winter, and I thought, if I could just get a snowboard…
.”

He sneaked a peek at his mother, then at his dad. It was his mom who reacted first, and her reaction took Dennis completely
by surprise.

“Absolutely not!” she said, slapping the table with her palm. “Too dangerous I was just talking to Muriel Avedon the other
day, and her nephew over in Taylorville is in the hospital right now, in traction, from snowboarding smack into a tree! He’s
got himself two broken wrists and a fractured tibia.”

Dennis sank his head in his hands, sighing miserably. There it went — all his hopes and dreams for the winter, dashed by some
idiot all the way over in Taylorville, for Pete’s sake.

“Now, wait a minute, Diane, honey,” he heard his dad say. “I heard about that, too — and that boy was
riding recklessly. I’m sure Muriel told you, he was taking needless chances, and he wasn’t wearing a helmet, or wrist guards,
or padding, or anything!”

“So what are you saying, Russell?” his mom shot back. “That snowboarding isn’t dangerous? Don’t tell me — you hear all kinds
of things. It’s out of the question. I’m sorry, Dennis, sweetie, but you’ll just have to do without one.”

“Wait a minute, now,” his dad kept on. “Dennis has always been very safety conscious. We had this same argument before we
got him his skateboard, remember? I know snowboarding’s different, but I don’t think it’s any more dangerous than skateboarding,
or skiing, for that matter — as long as a person doesn’t take foolish chances.”

Dennis raised his head to see his mother’s reaction. He couldn’t believe his dad was sticking up for him against his mom.
Usually, it was the other way around. Now his mom seemed to be softening a little.

“Dennis is thirteen now,” his dad went on, putting a hand on his mom’s shoulder and looking at Dennis warmly. “I think he’s
mature enough — I hope he is, anyway — to exercise good judgment.”

That seemed to do the trick. “Well … I suppose
you’re right,” Mrs. O’Malley said, smiling at Dennis. “It worries me, though. I guess you’ll always be my baby, no matter
what,” she told him.

Dennis jumped in. “Don’t worry about me, Mom,” he assured her. “I’ll take it real slow — hey, I’m the one who won’t even go
skiing anymore, remember?”

She laughed. “That’s true,” she said. “I’d forgotten that. Maybe you’ll try it out and realize snowboarding’s not for you,
either.”

“I’ll tell you what, Dennis,” his dad said. “If you want to buy yourself a snowboard, it’s all right with me. How ‘bout you,
honey?”

His mom nodded. “I guess so — but if you’re not careful, back it goes.”

“Gee, that’s great,” Dennis said halfheartedly. “But you see, the thing is, snowboards are expensive — they cost a lot more
than skateboards. And I was kind of hoping, since Christmas is coming up…

“Ah, now I get it,” his dad said, nodding. “Sorry, Dennis, but we’ve already done all our Christmas shopping. The Christmas
budget is depleted, and we’re exhausted. If you want it as a gift, you’ll have to wait until the next occasion.”

“But — but my birthday’s not till September!” Dennis protested. “That’s way too late! I need it now!”

“Well,” his dad said good-naturedly, “I can understand that, but you’ve got to understand our side, too. Our budget is busted,
son, and we’re not about to go running back to a bunch of crowded stores and start returning things so we can afford to buy
you a snowboard. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”

“Mom!” Dennis said, appealing to his mother.

“You heard your dad,” his mom said, shaking her head. “If you want a snowboard that badly, you’ll just have to be patient.”

Dennis stood up and stormed away from the table. “Thanks a lot,” he said in total frustration. “Sorry I even asked!” He ran
up the stairs, locked himself into his room, and threw himself facedown on his bed, close to tears.

Now
what was he going to do?

A
ll over Moorsville, Christmas was in the air. Downtown, the sounds of music filled the streets, thanks to speakers put up
by the local stores. Colored lights blinked on outside nearly every house, and people exchanged friendly greetings whenever
they passed each other on the street. Excitement was everywhere.

But not for Dennis. Now that he knew there wasn’t going to be a snowboard under the tree for him, he couldn’t catch the Christmas
spirit. No matter what his parents gave him for the holiday, it wasn’t going to be the one thing he wanted more than any other.

Dennis wasn’t the type to moan and groan about what was bothering him. He mostly kept things to himself if he wasn’t happy.
Not that he didn’t confide in anyone. His dad was a really good listener,
and always had something useful to say. And his mom was always sympathetic. Dennis even felt comfortable crying in front of
her. As for his friends, he could usually tell Tasha and Robbie what was on his mind.

But for some reason, this whole thing with the snowboard seemed to be an exception.

From the moment he reached school Monday morning, things began to go wrong. It was snowing, so he’d taken the school bus,
whereas he’d ordinarily have skateboarded the distance, even in the coldest of weather.

As he hopped off the bus, Dennis felt the snow wetting his socks. That was when he realized that he’d left home wearing low-topped
canvas sneakers instead of his winter boots! For the rest of the day, he squidged around the hallways, his feet clammy and
cold.

He had trouble paying attention in his classes, too. Mrs. Gudge in Social Studies got mad at him when, in response to some
question she’d asked him, he just stared back at her and said, “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring out the window, Mr. O’Malley,” she said. Mrs. Gudge was kind of cranky at the best of times, and when
she got annoyed, she
could be sarcastic. She always called kids by their last names when she got that way. “Is there something fascinating out
there you want to tell us about?”

“No, Mrs. Gudge,” Dennis said miserably, although what was out there was Schoolhouse Hill, now covered with freshly fallen
snow.

“Perhaps you’re hoping for a blizzard, so that school would be cancelled.”

“No, Mrs. Gudge,” Dennis replied, forced to lie. He looked down at his desk, embarrassed.

“All right, then,” Mrs. Gudge said with a frown. “Let’s get back to work.”