No Skateboarding Allowed

Chapter 1: Ripper

"Hello and welcome," boomed the announcer, "to the Malibu Beat skateboarding competition!"

Music blared as they announced the contestants. I balanced on my toes, ready for my entrance.

"William Sampson!"

I watched Will walk out in front of the large crowd. They cheered loudly. The girls were so into him.

My best friend Brady turned right before he got announced.

"Look, Joey," he said, "no matter what happens, no matter who wins..."

I leaned forward, awaiting the rest of the sentence. "Yeah?"

"... you still owe me forty bucks from last month."

Before I could hit him, his name was called and he strutted onto the half-pipe. I rolled my eyes at him but couldn't help laughing at the same time.

"Finally, put your hands together for the Ripper!!"

That was me, Joey Rippler. I don't know how I picked up the nickname, probably after my first award. People always accidently forget the L in Rippler anyway.

I put on a casual smile as if to say whatever, I don't care, when in reality, I cared a lot. A win in this competition sends me to the next round. 

There's always the loyal fans who come out and support us. The die-hard skateboard fans who bring signs and airhorns. The ones who get kicked out for blowing the airhorns. I loved them.

Then you have the newbies. The people who have never been to a skateboarding contest before, the ones who want to see what all the commotion is about. In a way, I like these people more. I can show them what I can do.

But of course, with the group of newbies comes the same unspoken question: the Ripper is a girl?

Yes, the Ripper is a girl. Having the name Josephine and wanting to make my living on skateboarding wasn't gonna fly. Especially not when I was raised being dressed up, sent to luncheons with grandma, constantly smiling and acting fake. Josephine is worn out.

So now I'm Joey. 

The crowd cheered. They chanted my name.

"Ripper! Ripper! Ripper!"

But just as Paul instructed me, I just gave a casual wave and a half smile and moved on. His advice was always to be as humble as possible.

"The skaters are competing for round two in the competition, as well as a chance to be in the running for the National Competition."

The announcer was so stereotypical. The echo-y voice. It was all so cliche.

"Going first will be last year's runner up, Kyle Williamson!"

The only problem with competing against your friends: you don't hate your apponents. It partly defeats the fun of it all. 

Kyle fist bumped me on his way up the steps. I watched him get in postition on the top of the pipe.

"He had a nice 360," I told Brady quietly, "could have been better. He stumbled a little on his landing."

He scoffed. "You critique everything."

I raised an eyebrow. "How will you ever get anywhere in life if you don't?"

He just rolled his eyes and I laughed at how much I bothered him. 

"Next up, we have Joey Rippler, last year's champ skater, and..."

I just kinda tuned him out as I walked up the stairs. I stood at the top, board perched under my foot, ready to impress these round one judges.