In one fluid motion, Tyler kicked his skateboard under the bend, flipped-yes, actually vaulted -over the bench. There was a satisfying 'thud' as his feet it the board firmly. His stance was goofy-right foot foreword, and with his left foot, he stuck his toe under the board and began a three sixty turn in a slow movement, then another one eighty in quicker motion before kick flipping and landing on the concrete sidewalks edge, a perfect position for a 50-50 grind. But he stopped and truck-drived the board onto the sidewalk and tucked it into his shoulder. He looked at Zack and Tapeworm, who were stunned at the eleven year olds trick. He had just turned eleven on the plane at midnight, and Zack had snuck his gift to him-the skateboard-onto the plane without his knowledge. The board was an Element with custom Titanium trucks and Etnies wheels. It was all lubricated very nicely and the bearing sang quietly like an opera waiting to start as Little Ty had drove it to the max tricks that either of the two knew.
Zack took out his own board-a cut down snowboard fitted with sturdy bronze and silver trucks and custom wheels-and ground the bench, jumped onto the concrete flower pot, continued halfway before jumping to balance on his right hand. His elbow buckled slightly, but he held the position for fifteen seconds before flipping off the pot on twisting a 540 degree Ollie, landing with both feet on the board, and the board itself at a forty-five degree angle.
Several people whistled and clapped, some throwing bills from ones to twentys at the sidewalk at Tyler's feet. A cop car bustled by and warned them that there isn't any boarding on the walk, but it was a warning, at the least.
Gathering the new wad of cash, Zack declared that they were going to a Pizza Hut he knew was close by. Little Ty cheered and Tape grinned all Coolio. Tapeworm had actually been at the rehab just a week, and Zack hadn't noticed until he saw a guy with a dropping afro, or a twisty long haircut, which ever rocks your boat. Tape had been there for an alcohol addiction.
At the Pizza Hut, Zack, Tape, and Ty groaned at the sight of the thirteen other rehab kids that had earned enough money to go onto the trip. The chaperones were twenty year olds, one who Tape claimed he made out with.
They quietly bought a slice of pizza each and walked called a Taxi to go back to the hotel. It was a form of the Tipton. Actually, it was the Tipton, but on of the forty nine in America- Mr. Tipton decided that Alaska was too cold for a Tipton.
To their utter astonishment, London was in the lobby, all pose for the photos. Zack chuckled and London snapped her head in his direction. She squealed in delight and chased after Zack, though he stood still. She hugged him and began to fill him in on all the gossip.
"Cody, Moseby, Carrie, Bob, Max, and Maddie's here!"
"Yeah," Zack declared dryly. "Two of which I wish not to meet."
London realized slowly what he meant and steered him towards the large room on the left. It was a metal swinging door that almost sung like Zack's ball-bearings on his skateboard when he opened it.
There, amidst a cake and dozen or so packages, small and large, where his friends: Bob, Max, Carrie, and Moseby: and his…enemies? No, the people whom he owed an apology but couldn't…Cody and Maddie.
Cody had red braces on, though they barley shone at all since his lip covered them. In his arms was a baby, about a month old. Next to him sat Rebecca, who had a fourteen carat gold and silver ring on her left ring finger. Cody had one on as well.
Maddie had more chest than she did last he saw her, and she wore her usual work cloths. Not much seemed special until he noticed that she had a ring on her finger. She was married as well.
He took all this in about three seconds after entering the room. He opened his mouth and gave a slow, "Yo." to his friends-they seemed to have separated themselves from the other two-and they smiled and clapped grandly.
A gift opening was in session. He unwrapped the huge package from Arwin, who would have been there if his mother hadn't gotten cancer at the last moment. It was a large, high-tech looking set of drums. There was a small mug of sticks, all different colors, weights, and types. The one from Max was a First Act electric guitar, which he strummed a few notes from Holiday and-hey, hey, hey-Jesus of Suburbia by Green Day. Next was a fire extinguisher from Moseby.
"If you treat that Rehabilitation Center like you did to my hotel, you'll need it," he said. Everyone laughed at that.
The package from Mom was a pair of Classic Etnies and another pair of ADIO shoes. The gift from London was a Rolex wristwatch that was light powered and could last six months in the dark if fully charged. The one from Bob was a tab books for Green Day, BFS, and Simple Plan.
That left two gifts left. He opened a small one and it contained a card. In neatly written handwriting, it read: 'Get Clean Soon' and he opened it to find a twenty flip out. He picked it up while he read the card. 'It's okay, Z. Everyone one makes mistakes. –Maddie' Zack looked at her with a look that he hoped said 'Thanks'.
The last package was from Cody, and it held a small hoop and tiny basketball along with a card. The card was a piece of folded construction paper, onto which Cody had written 'Sorry, bro.' A small, plastic card sat in the middle of it. At a closer inspection Zack noticed it was a credit/ATM card. Zack also found a transaction receipt taped onto the back. It read 'BALANCE OF APRIL 18th, 2010: $50,145.06' Zack looked at Cody with a questioning look.
"After you left," Mom explained for him. "We began to put money into an account using your name. London donated a lot of it, but we all put in our share."
Zack smiled and said, "Thanks, guys. Hey, I forgot, this is Tyler. Tyler, this is my Mom, my twin, my executioner, my ancient crush-no offence-, my dyslexic friend, and my not-dyslexic other friend."
Everyone laughed openly, shaking their heads and hugging Tyler. He looked on the brink of tears.
"What's wrong, T?"
"Thank you," he said, wiping tears from his eyes.
Slowly, Zack hugged each one of them and whispered thanks into their ears.
2
London got Zack, Tape, and Ty a suite, instead of a room. Actually, she got everyone a suite…except Ricky and his band of dorks. Ricky tried to enter by force, but he was caught and questioned by police for most of the next three days. They just didn't buy his story, and neither would you, hopefully.
Zack had formed a small band of him and Ty, and they sang Green Day songs the most. It was decided that Zack would by Tape an electric bass soon and they'd play the actual interments.
The money that people threw at them when they practiced outdoors was the fund for getting Tape his 'axe'. There was a hundred some odd dollars, and they decided that Zack could pay half when the other half rose.
Tape had chosen a four hundred dollar bass with amp included. The amp had three jacks so Tape's bass, Z's guitar, and Ty's (borrowed) drum set would go into it. Tape tested it, rusty since the last time he played. He could play the drums, guitar, and bass, and they decided-since Ty could only play the drums-that he would be the Bass-Man.
One day, when they were singing St. Jimmy, Ricky came at them and sneered, Zack stopped playing immediately, and Tape and Ty followed suit. There were seven of his goons in all, plus him, so the ratio was three to eight.
"What's you're problem, Dick-Wad?" Ty asked, giving Ricky the finger. Ricky reached foreword to grab the kids shirt, but Zack's elbow fell into the pit of his. He withdrew his hand painfully.
"What's up, Ricky-Dicky?"
"Oh, nothing," sneered Ricky, then added, "Zacky-Wacky."
"That was a gay come back. Are you a homo, faggot? Huh? You hump Taser over there? Or do you prefer little kids and you're dad?"
Ricky roared and leaped. Zack extended his knee, catching Ricky in the stomach. He jumped and pinned, kicking him in the face twice.
"Motha Fugga!" howled Ricky.
"Ditto," Zack said, pointing and clicking his tongue. "Later."
AN: Sorry about the cussing and gay thing. I made up a new song though:
I am the lord and master
You all are the bastards
Worship me...
Or I'll stab you're eyes till they bleed
I am the lard and master