You’ve got a brand new Spitfire board, freshly torn JNCO jeans, you stayed up late watching the X-games, and you’re about to take on the biggest ramp at the skate park. Never mind that it’s incredibly steep, or that you just started skating last week. Starter-jacket-clad boys are chanting your name, and all the girls are watching, with their strawberry-chapstick smiles and cherry-berry Fruit Rollup crop tops. So you’re off, and then you’re airborne, air rushing past your face: blood orange soda, sugar cookie, vanilla Coke, oregano-sprinkled bagel bites, and the fleeting comfort that no matter how you land, you’ll be the talk of the school on Monday.
