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“We’ve got to get over there,” said Frank. “It looks like just what we need—more trouble.”

  “Right—you’d better get over there,” I said to him.

  “Me? What about you?”

  “One of us has to stay here and protect Cody, of course. What if this is all just a diversion to get at him?”

  Frank snorted and pointed at Cody’s bodyguards. “I think he’s got all the protection he needs, Joe.”

  “They wouldn’t have saved him from slicing his hands open on the ramp. He needs me here.”

  “Fine. Stay here. I’m going to go and find out what’s happening. I’ll give you a ring if I solve the case without you.”

  Frank took off at a run. He was just jealous that Cody liked me better. Speaking of which, I needed to stick to him like glue. So if he was going to skate, I had to get ready to skate too.

  The life of an ATAC agent is tough sometimes….

  FRANK

  5

  Punk’d!

  The closer I got to the park entrances, the louder everything got. And the more crowded. There was definitely some screaming going on, but also laughing. Lots of laughing. If it was a riot, it was unlike any I had ever seen before. I couldn’t believe Joe had stayed behind with Cody—but I guess he did have a point. This could have all been a plot to get him alone and unguarded.

  I felt a buzzing in my pocket, but this time it was my phone. Without even looking, I knew it had to be Tyrone. I braced myself, then answered.

  “Where are you two? What do you think I’m paying you for?” He was screaming so loudly that I had no trouble hearing him over the noise of the crowd. In fact, I had to hold the phone a good six inches away from my ear.

  “Tyrone—I mean, Mr. McKenzie, you’re not paying us. We work for ATAC, and—”

  “And I don’t care who you work for! Just get your lazy butts down to the front gate and deal with this situation pronto. Do you understand?”

  Tyrone hung up before I could say anything. He was going to give himself a heart attack if he kept up like this. It couldn’t be good for his blood pressure. And how could he scream so much and never lose his voice?

  I wish he hadn’t hung up without telling me what was going on. I’d seen two more groups of guards scurrying toward the gate. Whatever was happening, Tyrone must have called every security person in the place. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a set-up. Maybe it was a good thing that Joe had stayed behind with Cody.

  I was winded by the time I got to the entrance of the park. I paused, hands on knees, trying to catch my breath as I took in the scene before me. It was utter chaos. Most everyone was standing around in a big circle, but some people were running and screaming. Others were just pointing and laughing. No one seemed to know what to make of what was happening.

  A group of skateboarders seemed to be causing most of the trouble. They were flying around the plaza, chasing people, doing tricks, whooping and yelling. There seemed to be a ton of them—everywhere I looked, one of them was chasing someone around the square, or being chased by the security guards, or both at the same time. It seemed like a giant game.

  But if the skateboarders were playing, the security guards weren’t. The guards were getting angrier and angrier as the skaters dodged and weaved around them. More than one was red in the face and sitting on the ground, exhausted.

  As I watched, one of the guards who was still on his feet lunged at a skater who had been taunting him by riding closer and closer. The skater jumped and the guard went flying through the air, landing on his stomach. Laughing, the skater landed on his board and took off rolling.

  The skater nearest me kept switching from riding her board normally to riding it while doing a handstand. The crowd around was laughing and applauding. Another skater was riding her board popped up so she was just on the back wheels, like a cyclist doing a wheelie. Somehow she managed to go up on just one wheel. These were some of the most amazing skaters I’d ever seen. If it weren’t for the security guards—and Tyrone’s angry phone call—I would have guessed that they were some sort of promotional demonstration for the Skate or Die Competition.

  I tried to count the skateboarders, but they were moving so fast it was nearly impossible. If I had to guess, I would have said there were about fifteen of them, but I wasn’t sure. It didn’t help that they were dressed in all black, making it hard to keep them separate. They made up for it with their hair and faces, however—I saw bright green Mohawks and long purple dreadlocks; earrings, nose rings, and lip rings. One boy had elaborate face paint on that made him look like a tiger. At least, I hoped it was face paint.

  Behind the skateboarders, at the entrance to the park, was what looked to be…a marching band? But not like any marching band I’d ever seen before. There were no school uniforms here. The band members had on crazy outfits, all black and bright green, with glitter and stripes everywhere. The tuba said RUDE on it in big letters. The snare drum player had bright pink hair. The trombones seemed to have created a limbo line, and some of the skaters were flying underneath and doing tricks. With them was a crazy group of dancers and acrobats. The band and dancers seemed to be supporting the skaters, playing music for them to dance to. All of a sudden, at a break in the song they were playing, the band waved their instruments in the air and began to chant, “Uh-oh, this park has got to go!”

  That’s when I saw the banner hanging from the entrance to the park. GALAXY X IS A FAKE! it read. It looked like the skaters weren’t here to take part in the competition….

  I had no idea what Tyrone expected me to do. I doubted I’d have better luck than the guards at catching any of these guys. They were far too fast. And they seemed to be enjoying the chase, so it wouldn’t even be a hassle if I joined in. Besides, the skaters weren’t hurting anyone, just causing a big spectacle. They were also blocking the entrance to the park, I realized. And if everyone was here watching them, that meant no one was out buying things or spending money on the rides. No wonder Tyrone was so upset!

  The skaters also seemed to be tossing things in the air, but I couldn’t make out what they were. Pieces of paper, it looked like. Or maybe confetti? It was hard to tell at a distance.

  “I don’t like skateboarding much, but this is hysterical.”

  I was so caught up in watching the skaters, I hadn’t noticed that Erica had crept up beside me. She was grinning from ear to ear, as if this were the funniest thing she’d seen in years.

  “You’re right,” I said. “This is pretty funny.”

  In fact, it was almost like watching the Three Stooges, or some other old slapstick comedy. For the next fifteen minutes, the guards kept chasing the skaters, and the skaters just kept making fools out of them. Aside from the few people who tried to walk across the plaza and got caught up in the show, everyone seemed to be having a great time. The band kept playing, and soon the whole crowd was dancing and having fun.

  That is, until Tyrone showed up with all the remaining security guards. His yelling could be heard over the noise of the crowd, and the smiles slipped away from people’s faces as they realized this wasn’t part of the Galaxy X experience.

  “Typical,” said Erica. “Leave it to Tyrone to ruin everyone’s fun.”

  Tyrone screamed a bunch of commands at the guards, and they formed a giant ring around the plaza. That seemed to be the cue for the band to exit, and they backed out of the park playing a sad, slow song. The guards started walking forward carefully, enclosing the remaining skaters in a ring. Right before they were completely trapped, some hidden signal most have gone out among them. All the skaters turned as one and shot directly at the gate, barely inching through the gaps between the guards. In just a few seconds, they were all gone. The crowd booed at the guards.

  On their way to the exit, one of the skaters shot right past me. As he did, he tossed a piece of paper in my direction. As the chaos calmed down and people began to head back in to the park, I reached down to pick it up.

  On it, a crudely draw
n Galaxy X logo had been crossed out with big slashes. Below it was a rant against the park.

  “We will shut this park down! Real skaters don’t need to pay fifty dollars a day to skate….”

  It went on from there, a full-page attack on Galaxy X and Tyrone McKenzie. The skaters accused Tyrone of tearing down the skate ramps they had built by hand and taking the land away from them—only to charge them money to come back. They promised that they would shut down the park and the “fakes” who ran it. At the end were the words “Skater culture not for sale,” which sounded exactly like something 4Real would say.

  Suddenly, the whole thing seemed a lot less funny.

  JOE

  6

  May the Best Man Lose

  “I think I’ve got it figured out.” It was the opening morning of the Skate or Die Competition, and all around Frank and me, the crowd was going wild. However many people had been in the park yesterday, there were easily double that number today. It was a mob scene. A giant stadium full of screaming fans surrounding ten beautiful, state-of-the-art, competition-size skate ramps. Each one was a different color and had a unique mural spray painted on it by a different famous graffiti artist. Tyrone sure knew how to go all out.

  “Oh yeah?” said Frank, focusing his attention on me. “So what is it?”

  “It’s simple. I need to start with something big—something that will really get the judges’ attention. Everyone else is going to start off slow, work their way up. I’m going to blow this thing up from the very beginning, so Cody knows I mean business.”

  I’d been thinking about it all night, and I could already see myself on the winning stand, with Cody next to me. It was going to be a piece of cake.

  “Oh,” said Frank. “And here I thought you might be talking about our case. You know, the mission we’ve been sent on? By ATAC? Maybe you could remember that at all?” He threw his hands up in the air and stalked off in to the crowd.

  Whatever, I thought. Frank was just jealous because he was in the doghouse with Tyrone, and Cody and I were clearly on our way to being best buds. Envy was such an ugly emotion, but I’d forgive him, because today was going to be awesome.

  Besides, we’d been up since before dawn making sure that everything was safe for the competition, so he didn’t have to act like I had forgotten our mission. We’d searched each of the ramps and the stage. We’d found nothing—no traps, no bombs, not even a threatening Post-it note. Tyrone had had his guards surrounding the stadium all night long, and they guaranteed that no one had gotten in or out. There were metal detectors at each of the entrances. He was taking no chances this time.

  But I didn’t have time to think about all of that right now. The competition was about to start, and I needed to get in the zone. The opening day was a simple round robin. The hundred or so contestants would be paired up randomly, and ten pairs would skate at a time. Each person would have five passes to show off their stuff, and then the judges would decide who moved on to the next round. Cody wasn’t even a judge for the first few rounds. Only twenty-five people would move on to the second day of competition, and I was ready to be one of them!

  And while I was kicking butt, Frank would be up in the stands watching Cody closely, to make sure no one tried anything. It was a less fun job, but someone had to do it—and I was glad it wasn’t me. Frank would be watching Cody. Cody would be watching me.

  Tyrone had constructed a special platform for the judging table. It stood at the center of the arena, surrounded by the different skate ramps. Cody, London, David, and Tyrone were all up there now. Behind the long judges’ table hung Cody’s first-ever skateboard, which he had built by hand. It was legendary in the skating world. He no longer skated on it, but he was known to bring it everywhere he went for good luck.

  Cody stood up and started to walk to the podium at the center of the stage. The crowd grew quiet as he began to speak.

  “Welcome to the first annual Cody Zane Skate or Die Competition!” Cody yelled over the microphone. The mass of assembled contestants exploded in screams. Everyone was ready to get out there and show off.

  “I hope you’ve all come ready to show me your stuff today, because only one person will be starring in my new Cody Zane video game with me. And it could be you. If you’re good enough.”

  It’s going to be me, I thought. It has to be.

  “We all have things we like to do before a big competition. Some people have lucky charms or special rituals. Me? I drink PowerUp, the only energy drink fortified with a full day’s worth of vitamins, minerals, and caffeine.”

  Cody opened a can and proceeded to drink the entire thing in one long gulp.

  “Ahhh,” he said. “Delicious. I also like to make sure that I’ve got on my lucky Kickflip brand shoes, specifically designed for the World Skating Team Championship.”

  Cody went on and on about the different products and clothes he used to “be the best I can be.” He sounded like an infomercial. Finally, after ten more minutes of product placement, he made the announcement everyone had been waiting for.

  “The first pairings are being set up now, and the competition will begin in ten minutes. Remember—skate hard!”

  Finally! I thought it was never going to start. I started stretching and getting ready. One of the organizers came up to me with a clipboard.

  “Joe Hardy?” he asked.

  “That’s me!”

  “You’ll be skating against Lenni Wolff in the first round, on the purple ramp. Good luck.”

  Frank was about to take off for the stands when Erica came up to us. She looked worried.

  “Hey, Frank, hey, Joe. Good luck today.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’m surprised you’re here. I thought you didn’t like skating.”

  “I don’t, really,” she said. “It’s just…”

  “What?” asked Frank.

  “I heard that Bret Johnston was your main suspect. Is it true?”

  I wondered where she had heard that. Given the way her stepfather yelled, it had probably been impossible for her not to hear it. Frank hesitated for a moment, then answered her.

  “Well, he’s definitely a suspect. But we don’t have a lot of information right now. Why?”

  Erica looked torn for a moment. She looked around, then leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper.

  “Well,” she said, “I thought he was just hitting on me, you know? But every time he gets me alone, all he talks about is the park, and Tyrone, and what the plans are for the skating competition.”

  “Thanks for letting us know,” I said. It wasn’t anything particularly suspicious, but it was nice of Erica to tell us. I started to walk toward the ramp, but she wasn’t finished.

  “That’s not it. The night before the park opened, I heard him complaining about how Cody Zane is getting so much more money and publicity for doing this, and how Cody is nowhere near as big a star as he is. He sounded pretty angry about it.”

  Frank looked at me, and I knew what he was thinking. Jealousy and money were two pretty good motives for murder. I was about to ask Erica some more questions, when an announcement came over the loudspeaker for the first round of the competition.

  “I’ve got to get to my ramp,” I said.

  “Ugh,” said Erica. “I’m going to go before the skating starts. I just wanted to let you guys know. I don’t think he could have done anything, but…”

  “Thanks,” said Frank. “I’m going to be watching from the stands. I could walk you back that way, if you’d like.”

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my brother was trying to be smooth!

  As Erica and Frank walked away from the skating area, I hurried out to the ramp and got my helmet and pads on. Cody had offered to let me borrow some of his gear, but that seemed like an unfair advantage, so I brought my own. Lenni was already there, sprawled out on the ground with his helmet on. He was short and on the skinny side, dressed in all black.

  Piece of cake, I thought.

/>   I was up first. I leaped up in the air as they called my name, and the crowd cheered. I turned toward the stage and was certain that Cody was watching me. Or at least kind of looking in my direction. Maybe.

  I had decided to put my most difficult trick first. I was going to do an invert, where you skated up toward the top of the ramp, grabbed the edge, and flipped over your arm before landing and skating back down. It was hard to do as a first trick, because it required a lot of speed. But I was certain I could pull it off.

  I hit the ramp running as hard as I could and leaped onto my board. I was hurtling through the air as fast as I’d ever gone. It was like being on a motorcycle, the wind rushing all around me. I saw the lip of the ramp hurtling toward me at the speed of light. I bent low on the board, reached my arm out, and grabbed for the edge.

  And I got it! Just like that I was in the air, rotating gracefully over my arm, my board stuck to my feet as though it was glued there. Far in the background I could hear the crowd cheering, but the blood pounding in my ears was even louder.

  I landed the invert perfectly, rocketing back down the ramp. I ollied on the way down, leaping into the air and taking the board wi th me, then landing perfectly and continuing to skate as though I hadn’t just flown through the air. I was on fire, hitting every trick perfectly. By the time I finished my fifth pass, I felt almost sorry for Lenni. It would be hard to follow me. But in a competition, there were always winners and losers.

  I got off the ramp and stood by the side, near a few of the officials and other skaters who had finished their turns. David Sanders was there, walking lazily through the crowds and scoffing whenever someone missed a trick or slipped.

  Lenni got up on the ramp. He seemed to ignore the crowd entirely. He stood completely still for a long moment, like a statue of a skater. Then he burst into motion.

  He moved so fast I could barely see him. One second he was standing at the bottom of the ramp, the next he was riding his board up to the top. Then he seemed to slow down gracefully, doing an ollie in slow motion—a nearly impossible trick. It was a copycat of my first move, but I had to admit, he did it well.