Down 'N' Derby by Lila Felix Page B

from me and plugged it into the wall.  Nixon tried to speak to me all nonchalant but I could tell he wanted me off of his phone because he didn’t want me to find out he was calling Reed.  I didn’t care if he was talking to Reed.  She wouldn’t tell anyone and now she and Falcon were gone. 
                  “Then you might not be able to call Reed and give her our exact location.  Oh, and probably let her know I’m still sane, right?” He turned white as over-bleached teeth and looked in my direction but he was pissed.  “Oh please, poor pitiful Maddox has so many people who care about him.  How lame.  Do you know how many times my mom has called me?  Zero.  So shut the Hell up.”  He clicked the TV off and I left him alone.  He was right.  I was being a dick to my family and I promised myself I would call them someday soon. 
                  “Journey hasn’t called?” I asked him. 
                  “She called once.  I blocked her number.” He was still turned around, facing away from me. 
                  “Why?  That’s your best friend.” I knew he and Journey had been friends since they were in grade school.
                  “Because she’s just as ignorant as you,” Then he got up and walked out the door and I felt like crap for saying anything to him about it. 
                  He came back in eventually, after I’d gone to sleep and threw himself on the bed, still pissed.  I would have to apologize in the morning.

Chapter 18
    Storey
    Derby was my saving grace.  Those girls taught me to quit beating myself up for –well, getting beat up.  Then they taught me how to lay into other girls on the track.  And wasn’t that jus t the best kind of hypocrisy? 
     
                  The next morning was bright and sunny, the perfect day for skating on the strip.  I woke up early, threw my brown hair into some kind of lump atop my head.  I scoured my dresser for a tank top and a pair of shorts that I wouldn’t mind getting beat up.  I had a habit of making friends with the concrete, and the sand—sometimes the street posts.  I tried to be careful of my face, since it was my money maker but I didn’t make any promises. 
                  I slid a pair of rainbow knee high socks up my legs, grabbed my skates and at the bottom step laced them up and made my way down the strip.  The strip was nothing but tourist venues and head shops.  Seriously, there were as many shops that sold bongs as there were t-shirts.  Skating here was like weaving through traffic.  In and out, around and sometimes under the limbs of people walking, wondering where the grandeur of Venice Beach was—and hoping to find it if they just walked a little bit further.  But the fun of California was in the laid back attitude, the anything goes mantra, plus Venice Beach is the birthplace of skateboarding and wasn’t that cool enough in itself?
                  I watched from the corner of my eye as the sun rose to full bloom and more and more beach bums took their regular spots on the sand.  Families bogged down with gallons of sun block and every pool toy sold trampled over themselves; trying to get to the best spot.  But only the locals knew the best spots and they weren’t anywhere near the strip. 
                  After an hour or so, I made my way back and stripped off my skates before going up the stairs.  I had only eaten it four times and one of those times was on the sand but trekking up stairs was a whole other issue. 
                  I got inside and called the phone company and had them turn my phone service off.  It was funny how companies don’t give a rat’s crap about you when you are already their customer but the minute you call to cancel your service they offer you six months of free service or half price service.  Now why can’t they treat people that