Skateboard Star, page 1
FOR AVA MAE, MAGICAL ALREADY
• CHAPTER 1 • SKATEBOARD SLUMP
I sharpen my colored pencils into perfect points and arrange them in rainbow order, just like I do every Saturday morning. That way, they are always ready when I need them.
I’m working at the kitchen table so that my baby brother, Carlos, who is rolling toy trucks on the floor with Papi, doesn’t disturb me. You can’t be too careful with Carlos around. I’ve found his tiny teeth marks on my school supplies before!
Right as I am about to place parakeet green next to lemon yellow, my big sister stomps past and bumps into my shoulder. She knocks my hand into the box of colored pencils and sends them tumbling to the floor.
“Coco!” I yell. She has never appreciated the importance of a good organization system. But that doesn’t mean she can ruin mine. “Watch out!”
“Sorry, Cat,” Coco says. She is carrying her skateboard and sets it down to help me pick up the pencils. At first, I try to keep them all in rainbow order. But then Carlos comes crawling toward us, drool dribbling off his bottom lip. I scramble to collect the rest of them as quickly as I can.
“What’s the rush, Coco?” Papi asks as he scoops Carlos back onto his lap. Mami won’t be back from her shift at the nursing home until dinnertime.
Coco puts the candy-apple-red pencil next to the midnight-blue one, nowhere near where it belongs. “Can I go out skateboarding?” she asks.
She is already wearing her helmet and pads, and her old flannel shirt is balled up under her arm. It’s going to be a wrinkled mess when she puts it on.
“Have you made your bed?” Papi asks.
“Of course!” Coco replies.
“Ha!” I bark.
Coco’s idea of making the bed is piling her pajamas, sheets, and blanket on top of it in a lumpy heap. I should know. I have to share a room with her.
But Papi seems convinced. “Have fun,” he says. “Be careful.”
I take the red pencil out of the box and put it back where it’s supposed to be—next to tangerine orange. “Wait up,” I say. “Give me a minute to put the rest of these pencils away, and I’ll come too.”
Coco has been helping me learn to skateboard. Since all my chores are finished—including some that Mami and Papi didn’t even think of—I can go with her to learn some new tricks.
“No!” Coco says.
“No?” I repeat. Coco doesn’t always let me borrow her board, but she’s never said I couldn’t come with her to skate.
“I really need to concentrate this time,” she says. “I need to be alone.”
I turn to Papi. “Por favor. Pleeeeeeeease,” I say, begging in two languages.
It doesn’t work.
“Sorry, Kitty-Cat,” Papi says. “Sounds like Coco needs her space.”
Being called “Kitty-Cat” is pretty annoying. I’ve asked my parents about a zillion times to start using my real name, Catalina. But even more annoying is not getting to go out with Coco. I grab the pencil box and storm upstairs to our room.
Not that I plan to stay there.
As soon as I hear Coco’s skateboard rattle down the sidewalk, I go to my closet. I pick out my favorite sweatshirt. It’s gray with kitten ears sewn onto the hood. My tía abuela—her name is Catalina Castañeda too—sewed it for me. Normally I wouldn’t wear it. Like I keep telling my Mami and Papi, I’m getting too old for all the kitten stuff. But today the sweatshirt is exactly what I need.
I creep back down the stairs, tiptoe through the hall, and sneak out the side door.
Then, flattening myself against the house so that no one can see, I put on the sweatshirt. I zip it up to my chin. I pull the hood over my head. A shiver runs up my spine. I check my reflection in one of the windows. A gray cat blinks back at me. I am incognito.
Tía Abuela didn’t make the sweatshirt with a regular needle and thread. She used a special sewing kit with the power to create magical disguises. Better yet, she passed the magic on to me!
I trot down the street to find Coco. She might have said I couldn’t watch her skateboard, but she didn’t say anything about a cat watching.
I find Coco at the end of the block. She must really not want anyone to see her.
I can understand why. She’s wearing her flannel, but it’s way too short, and her elbow pokes out of a hole in the sleeve. I shudder. I wouldn’t want to be seen in that thing either.
Then again, Coco doesn’t care very much about what anyone else thinks of her clothes. Something else must be bothering her. I step closer and stop to watch under the shade of a blue mailbox.
Coco tightens her helmet. She wipes her palms against her shorts and takes off.
I recognize this move. It’s her signature trick, the Coco-kick. She steps down onto the back of the board and launches it into the air. Next she’s supposed to flick the board with her toe so it spins underneath her. Instead she kicks it off to the side and lands on her knees.
Ouch.
She tries an easier trick, one she has landed millions of times. But she just keeps crashing.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Only, I’m still incognito and it comes out like a curious purr. Coco lifts her head off the sidewalk where she’s still sprawled.
“I was hoping nobody saw that,” she said. “But you won’t tell, will you?” She sits up and scoots closer to me. “You seem familiar. Have I seen you before?”
I skitter backward.
Coco shakes her head and unbuckles her helmet. “I need to land the Coco-kick for the Skate Spectacular,” she says. “It has to be perfect. But I can’t seem to get anything right. I might as well go home.”
Home? Uh-oh.
• CHAPTER 2 • LUCKY SHIRT
I race back home. If Coco were riding her skateboard, I’d have no chance of beating her there. Luckily for me, she’s carrying the board as she trudges back, her face turned down to the sidewalk. I glance over my shoulder, and she’s still two houses behind when I throw open the side door and race through the kitchen.
“Gato!” Carlos says, waving.
Oh no! I’m still wearing the magical disfraz, and Carlos thinks I’m a cat! It’s a good thing Papi is too busy warming noodles on the stove to notice.
“And what does a gato say?” he asks.
“Miau!” Carlos shouts.
I bound up the stairs, yanking off the sweatshirt. When I get to the bedroom, I grab a book off Coco’s side of the floor, open it to a page in the middle, and dive onto my bed. I pretend to be deep in concentration when Coco walks in.
“Oh… hi!” I greet her, still a little out of breath. “How was… skateboarding?”
Coco grimaces. “What happened to you?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
She points. “Your face. Your hair. Your shoes.”
I touch my cheek—warm and sweaty. I pat my hair—curls tangled. I glance down at my feet—shoes still on, even though I’m on the bed. Usually I am perfectly put together.
“I guess I got carried away with the story,” I fib. “I just got to a really good part.”
Coco tilts her head and squints at the book cover. I turn it over and look too.
Amazing Math Puzzles.
It’s one of the books Papi uses in the class he teaches at the community college. Whoops.
Coco tosses her flannel at me. “Well, if you’re not too busy, do you think you can fix this?”
The shirt lands on my lap. Fixing it would mean I’d have to… touch it.
Coco’s favorite flannel used to be a bright green-and-purple plaid. Now it’s faded into a brownish-grayish color. Besides the hole in the elbow, it’s missing two buttons, and the pocket is torn off on one side.
“Why don’t you wear one of the new ones Mami bought you?” I ask. Mami has been trying for months to get Coco to replace her flannel. But the new ones just hang in her closet, unworn.
Coco flops down onto my bed, wrinkling the blanket. Now I’ll have to make it all over again.
“You know why!” she says. She takes one of my stuffed animals and hugs it against her chest. “That is my lucky shirt. It’s the one I was wearing when I landed my first trick.”
I know the flannel is special to her, but it’s time to retire it.
“What makes you think I can fix this?” I lift the tattered cloth with my pinkie.
“Tía Abuela gave you that sewing kit, didn’t she?” Coco answers.
Coco doesn’t know that the sewing kit is magical.
I nod.
“And you’ve been going to all those sewing classes at the library, haven’t you?”
Coco means Stitch and Share. Tía Abuela used to be a famous actress. Ever since she retired, she spends most of her time traveling the world. Since she wasn’t going to be in town to teach me to sew, she made me promise to attend the weekly Stitch and Share sessions her best friend, Josefina the Librarian, hosts at the Valle Grande Central Library.
I haven’t missed a single session. “The magic is only as strong as your stitches,” Tía Abuela warned when she gave me the sewing kit for my birthday. If I was going to be in charge of such powerful magic, she wanted to be sure I had plenty of practice.
But I don’t think Coco’s grungy old flannel is what she had in mind. It’s not what I have in mind either.
“Maybe your luck will jump onto one of the other shirts,” I tell her.
Coco shakes her head. “There’s not time to find out,” she explains. “The Valle Grande Skate Spectacular is coming up, and the first-place winner get
“But you already have a skateboard,” I say, trying to mask how much I wish I had a skateboard of my own.
Coco rolls over so she’s staring at me. Her eyes glimmer. “Don’t you get it?” she says. “If I get a new one, I can give my old one away.”
I sit up straighter, almost bumping my head on the top bunk. “To me?” I ask. If I had my own skateboard, I’d never have to borrow from Coco again. I could ride it whenever I wanted to. In my mind, I’m already peeling off all those stickers she’s plastered onto the bottom.
“Maybe,” Coco replies. “But I can’t give it to you if I don’t win, and I can’t win unless my lucky shirt gets fixed.”
I pick up the flannel again. Maybe it’s not so hideous after all.
• CHAPTER 3 • UNPREPARED
After school on Monday, I take Coco’s flannel to the Stitch and Share session at the Valle Grande Central Library. During Stitch and Share, Josefina the Librarian opens the library community room so all the sewists—that’s what Josefina calls us—can get together and work on our latest projects and practice our skills.
There are always plenty of people around to help if I run into any trouble. I’m sure the sewists will have great ideas for fixing Coco’s flannel.
“Early as usual, Catalina,” Josefina says when I push open the door and walk in. She is carrying a big plastic bin full of sewing supplies and scraps of fabric that people have donated to the library. We can take anything we need from the bin. When I first started coming to Stitch and Share, the bin was so full that Josefina couldn’t get the lid to stay on. Now it’s almost empty.
“Right on time to help set up,” I reply. Punctuality is one of my specialties. Early for Josefina the Librarian is perfect timing for me. I start arranging the folding chairs in a circle. That way, all the sewists can talk and see what everyone else is working on.
Being the first to arrive also means I get to pick the one chair that doesn’t have any dents or scratches or spilled paint from library art projects on it. I like my sewing station to be as perfectly put together as I am.
I settle in and open my sewing bag. I made it myself out of a pattern that was originally meant to be a pillowcase. It’s made of a leopard-print fabric that Josefina picked out of the scrap bin for me.
“I thought it would be purr-fect for a fierce cat like you,” she said. “Get it?”
Normally I would have reminded Josefina that I don’t really like all that cat stuff as much as I used to when I was younger. But leopard print happens to be one of Tía Abuela’s favorite patterns, so I made an exception.
I lift Coco’s flannel out of the bag. I’d convinced her to let me wash it, promising that the luck wouldn’t rinse out. The shirt is still faded. At least it smells a little better.
But as soon as the rest of the sewists arrive and everyone else takes out their projects, mine seems dingier and dirtier than ever.
Piled on Señora Garcia’s lap is a heap of shimmering blue satin and gold lace.
Mr. Hart has a piece of checkered wool that I can already tell is going to turn into a hat.
Even Anthony Becerra, the only other kid in the group, has brought something special. Anthony is in high school, and he’s been working on dog and cat toys to donate to the animal shelter as part of a service project. But today he takes out a whole dog bed!
I fold Coco’s flannel into the tiniest possible bundle. I wish I had a disfraz so that no one would see me. I have never felt so unprepared. It’s an even worse feeling than falling off Coco’s skateboard.
Josefina the Librarian claps. “Bueno!” she says. Good. “I see you’re all ready for the Spring Sewing Showcase, and you didn’t even need me to remind you. Looks like we are going to have some beautiful projects to share this year.”
I raise my hand but don’t wait for Josefina to call on me. “Sewing showcase?” I ask.
Josefina walks toward me. “How could I forget?” she replies. “This will be your first showcase, won’t it, Catalina?”
I nod. It sounds very important.
“Well, every spring, we sewists put together a display of our work,” Josefina explains. “We also collect donations from people who come see it, and use the money to buy new sewing supplies. This year I’m hoping we can raise enough to buy a sewing machine for the library!”
Señora Garcia smooths the blue satin over her lap. “I’m making a gown for my niece’s quinceañera,” she says, smiling.
“Keen-seh-ahn-YEHR-uh?” Mr. Hart repeats the word slowly.
“It’s a fifteenth-birthday party,” I tell him.
Then Mrs. Glass shows us the tiny squares of fabric she’s sewing together. “And I am trying out a new quilt pattern.”
Josefina sits in the seat next to mine. “What have you brought to work on?”
I unfold Coco’s flannel, wishing I had something better.
“I told my sister I would help her repair this,” I say. “But don’t worry. I’ll think of something way better for the showcase.” I want to help raise money for sewing supplies too.
Josefina takes the shirt and examines it. “You know,” she says, “there are beautiful mending techniques that you could show off. Some people even make their repairs visible on purpose.”
They want people to see what’s wrong with their clothes? It seems impossible, but Josefina shows me pictures on her phone as proof.
Ms. Yoo pats her knee. “I sewed a patch onto these jeans, and I like them even better this way.”
It’s not that I don’t believe them. But a showcase project has to be something special. Something surprising. Something perfect.
Coco’s flannel is simply not going to cut it.
• CHAPTER 4 • INCOGNITO
How am I going to fix Coco’s flannel in time for the Skate Spectacular and sew up an amazing project for the showcase?
I hate to admit it, but I’m going to need help from Pablo Blanco.
Pablo is my best friend—and biggest rival—at Valle Grande Elementary School. No one else in third grade is as perfectly prepared as we are.
I plan my outfits a week in advance. Pablo brings a spare change of clothes to school every day, socks and everything, just in case something spills at lunch.
I keep a color-coded calendar. Pablo schedules his weekends down to the minute.
He’ll help me find a way to solve this problem. But when I explain Coco’s skating slump, he says, “Don’t you see? This is exactly like what happened in The Kitchen Curse!”
The other important thing to know about Pablo is that he is a major fan of telenovelas, the kind of super-dramatic TV shows that Tía Abuela used to star in before she retired.
I scrunch my nose. “Pablo, I don’t think anyone put a curse on my sister—”
“Just listen,” he says, interrupting me. He’s so excited that he is standing on the tips of his toes. His white sneakers are spotless as usual. “What if one of the other skateboarders has sabotaged Coco, done something to spoil her chances so she can’t win. That’s what happened to Chef Marcela on last night’s episode. Her jealous assistant, Salvador, cut the power to her oven right in the middle of the prince’s banquet! Dinner was ruined!”
“Hmm,” I say. I am not convinced that anyone is playing tricks on Coco. But just to be sure, Pablo and I have agreed to meet at the skate park where she sometimes practices after school.
“To spy?” I ask Pablo.
“To observe,” he says.
* * *
We crouch underneath a picnic table on a grassy hill above the park. We’re a little far from the edge of the emptied-out pool where Coco and her friends are getting ready to skate. It’s a good thing Pablo has brought his binoculars.
One by one, the skateboarders drop into the bowl. They gain speed as they sail down the smooth walls. Usually Coco flies out in front, swooping back and forth from one end of the pool to the other.
But this time, she hangs back. She twists the piece of hair that falls out from under her helmet. She doesn’t even look like herself without her lucky flannel. It’s still hanging in my closet, waiting to be fixed.
