A Reason to Exist

Chapter 7

At the skate park that afternoon, Zuri and I sat on the steps, our knees bent, our feet rolling our skateboards to and fro. The three skate bowls were like moon craters by the sea, the colours of the desert. St Kilda beach stretched off to the right. The city buildings breached the skyline. The pirate ship at Luna Park was spinning like two hands of a clock ticking in opposite directions.

'What happened to your hair?' Zuri asked.

'Mum said hair dye is a hormone disruptor and it's likely to trigger an autoimmune catastrophe.'

'That's bullshit, you know.'

'Yeah, I kind of know it's bullshit. But she's very convincing. You should hear her.'

'Mum was shitty when I got this haircut,' Zuri said. She'd cut her beautiful black curls to her shoulders a couple of months ago. 'But it's my life, my hair, my look. She got over it quickly.'

'I feel too guilty. It's not worth the battle.'

'I don't feel guilty about anything.' Zuri banged her foot down on the nose of her skateboard, flipping it up, and caught it in her hand. 'Your mum gets anxious about everything. She should take a chill pill.'

Easy for her to say. Zuri's mother was an adventurer. She'd travelled through Africa in a truck on her own in her twenties and ended up meeting Zuri's father teaching at a Montessori school in The Gambia. After five years running their own school in the Phillippines, they'd moved back to Melbourne. Zuri was wordly at just sixteen and already carried the precious heirloom of not giving a shit about much.

Zuri stepped onto her board and dropped into the medium bowl. We used to be equally as hopeless at skating. But somehow she'd become a good skater, lately. She'd mastered a 360 spin and it'd given her cred. The boys had stopped treating her like a spectator and more like one of them.

I took in the scene of the skate park, full of confident, happy-go-lucky people. There were no limitations on anyone here. It was the opposite to being at home, where everything was worry, rules and warnings. Cross at the pedestrian lights or you'll get hit by a car, wear a helmet or you'll get a brain injury, return your library books or you'll get a fine. No grain-fed meat, no gluten, no supermarket vegetables, no mobile phone, no electromagnetic forcefields, no gladwrap, no takeaway food, no fast fashion – kids in Pakistan die from cotton pesticides, wipe your feet before you walk in the door, open a window because the air conditioner is on, do your homework or you'll never get into university, no social media or you'll get bullied, no tampons or you'll get toxic shock.

The skate park had no rules. Kids swore. They wore what they wanted. They ate fast food and drank energy drinks. They didn't wear sunscreen. People here were allowed to be free and alive.

I strapped on my helmet and slid into the small bowl – that familiar feeling of falling and being caught by concrete. My board was like a magic carpet freewheeling me to a wondrous place beyond the rules. But then a young child passed by on his scooter too closely and I lost my nerve. Kids are unpredictable. I slowed down and demounted my board with less grace than I'd hoped. A little voice in my head reminded me I'm not good enough; I'm in the baby pit, I have no courage. Tate's words came back: 'You're just a skater groupie.' I picked up my board and walked over the lawn and looked out at the sea wishing for courage. A skater with fear is like a trapeze artist with vertigo.

'I miss your green hair,' someone said. I turned around and saw Tucker standing there, his big smile as white as the St Kilda lighthouse.

'My mum made me cut it off.'

'She's a force to be reckoned with.'

'Yeah. I know.'

He was wearing long black shorts and a red t-shirt, his white socks pulled up his calves. His trainers were black and looked brand new.

'Is your mum pissed?' I asked. 'About getting a new fence.'

'She said if your mum wants it, she can pay for it. Hey, this is boring, talking about mother dramas and all. Who gives a shit? They can sort it out. My dog's not going to bite you peeps, he's a pussy cat in a dog's body.

'The boys and I are going to go and get fairy floss at Luna Park and do some tricks, do you and your friend want to come along? She's a good skater but you're the pretty one.' He paused, tugging at his blond hair from under his black beanie. 'Sorry, I don't know why I said that. I'm socially awkward. The most unbelievable shit comes out of my mouth sometimes. You should ignore half the things I say.'

I couldn't help but laugh. This guy had no filter. He was kind of adorable. Then I remembered his dangerous shipping container trick and how he's a bouncy type and not my type.

'Nah, I should probably get home.'

'What? You only just got here,' he said.

Zuri came over and put her arm around my shoulders. 'What's going on?' she asked.

'Nothing,' I said.

'I was just asking this girl here, who still hasn't told me her name, whether the two of you want to come to Luna Park with us.'

'Her name is Macy,' Zuri said. 'And you're Tucker aren't you? I've seen your YouTube vids.'

'Yeah, that's me.'

Zuri smiled. 'I love that vid at the petrol station in Preston. Don't know how you landed that trick. It looked impossible.'

'Spoiler alert,' Tucker said. 'We filmed it like three million times.'

'Well, we'd love to come,' Zuri said, looking at me. I searched for words of protest. Yet in the end, I simply said 'Okay.' It was probably going to be better than going home at least.