streets of Crestview. They struggled to climb up the hills but it
was well worth it coming back down.
The three boys stopped by a railing at the entrance to Ridge Park.
“Hey. Let's board the park!” Steve said, looking through the bars of the railing.
“Yeah,” Dondi said, “we could go down the embankment.” He pushed off through the open gate with Steve right behind him.
Freddie followed them into the park, amazed at what a good snowfall could do. It was as if the whole slate between him and
Dondi had suddenly been wiped clean, as if their problems had been covered over with a fresh layer of pure, white, unspoiled
snow.
All their fights were forgotten, all their grudges forgiven. They were friends again, and brothers too. Even Dondi and Steve
were getting along!
Freddie should have known it was too good to last. At that very moment, he heard a familiar pair of voices calling, “Dondi!
Yo, man, over here!”
Nate Sherman and Brad Forest came zooming up to the three boys. “Hey, Dondi,” Nate said. “Fancy meeting you here.” He looked
at Freddie and Steve. “I see you brought the junior brigade.”
“You babysitting today?” Brad asked him.
Dondi looked embarrassed. “I was just leading Hansel and Gretel here into the heart of the woods,” he joked.
Nate and Brad laughed. “Watch out they don't have any bread crumbs to find their way home,” Brad said.
Freddie stood there, taking it all in. He glanced at Steve, who seemed equally at a loss for words.
“This beats halfpipe any day,” Dondi said. “I told the squirt it was better, but he didn't believe me. Did you?”
Freddie's eyes narrowed as he stared back at Dondi. “You're a total chicken, Dondi. You quit that contest because you knew
I could beat you. Downhill had nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dondi said, strutting for his eighth-grade friends. “You want to see who's chicken?”
“Anytime!” Freddie shot back.
“Freddie,” Steve said, a note of caution in his voice.
Freddie ignored him. “You want a downhill race, you've got it, punk!”
“Oh, I'm a punk? Well, you're a squirt. King of the halfpint, oh, I mean pipe.” Dondi shared a mean-spirited laugh with Nate
and Brad. “Okay, shorty. We'll see who's a punk. You and me, one on one—down Devil's Ravine!”
Freddie gasped. “Devil's Ravine? Are you out of your gourd?”
“Wooo-hooo!” Nate cheered. “All right! The little guy's scared now!”
“Busted! In your face, shorty!” Brad said, piling it on.
“Who's a chicken now, punk?” Dondi said, his face only inches from Freddie's.
Freddie stared back at Dondi. Why was Dondi doing this crazy thing? Just to impress those two gorillas? “Dondi…” he said falteringly.
“Come on, come on. Are you in or out?” Dondi demanded.
Freddie was silent, searching Dondi's eyes. Dondi wasn't as good a boarder as Freddie, and both of them knew it. If they went
through with this dare, Dondi might end up in the hospital—or even worse!
He saw fear in Dondi's eyes then. Dondi didn't want to do this any more than he did. But then why had he even brought it up?
Suddenly Freddie understood. Dondi had set a clever trap for him. He had dared him to board down Devil's Ravine, sure that
Freddie would sayno. When he did, Dondi would be off the hook—he'd never have to brave the dangerous slope, and Freddie would look like the
one who was chicken.
“Dondi,” Freddie said in a voice that was almost a whisper, “it's stupid to do something so dangerous. Neither of us is a
good-enough downhill boarder yet.”
“Keep those excuses coming,” Dondi said. He gave Nate and Brad a triumphant smile. “Now we know who's afraid and who's not.”
“I'm not afraid!” Freddie insisted.
“'I'm not afraid!'” Dondi mimicked him in a frightened voice.
“Say what you want, I'm not doing it.” Freddie stood firm. “I promised Papi.”
“Baby promised his papi!” Dondi said in a baby voice.
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia