POOL GALLERY
THE POOL POLICE
ROB TREINEN
The sky hung low, real low. It seemed like it
could drop just a little lower and take the tops
off the buildings. Or even lower still, and
smother everything. But for now it stayed just
high enough, content to scare the hell out of
you. Just to spite the sky, the sun cracked
through. If you looked close enough, you could
see it turning each individual grain of sand into
glass. In a vacant lot, set back from the road,
concealed by a weary fence, the skaters
celebrated the persistence of the sun. Hitting
the facewall like a Pinto with no brakes, each
exploded up onto the coping, or shot just below
for speed to attack a shallow end wall. The air
was high with the sound of coping being
destroyed and those destroying it. The rookie
pulled into the lot slowly and, he thought,
noiselessly. But the skaters burst over the fence
on the other side, running faster than boots
could ever hope to go. He knew he'd never find
them now. He took off his sunglasses to go look
down into the pool, just to see what it was all
about. There he saw a skater sitting quietly on
the shallow end steps, his board resting against
his knee. He was wondering why the hell this
guy hadn't hightailed it like the others when the
skater said, "Hi, Fred." Then he recognized
him. It was Brian. He and Brian had skated all
over together in seventh and eighth grade. They
had spent a lot of time in a ditch just a few
blocks from here. They were fond of curbs too.
It had been fun, but when high school started
Fred had joined the football team. With that
came new friends and new alliances. Fred didn't
hang out with skateheads anymore.
"Remember how we were always on the lookout
for a pool. Brian continued. "Well, here's one.
Not the best, a one-hit, but at least you can
grind it." Brian stopped to tear a piece of loose
grip tape off his board. Then he looked up at
Fred. "But I never thought this would be the
situation. You being a cop, I mean." Fred had
to admit he never would have thought it
possible either. He and Brian had run from cops
together. That rag on the corner used to call the
cops every time they skated the curb in front of
her flower shop. But things change. "Why
don't you take a run?" Brian asked, a slight
taunting in his voice. Fred remembered that
taunting edge, Brian had always been quick
with a mouthful of advice. Fred never minded,
though. Brian's taunting had always pushed
him. "Step up and out of that boneless. One
motion." Or at the curb in front of that rag's
store: "Don't just hit it, ride that curb like a
train!" And eventually he had. He had grown to
live for the floating feeling of a smooth boneless.
And towards the end he could power the curb,
even frontside. But they had never found a pool.
Fred was just about to take off his boots and
take a run when he remembered what the
captain had said. You weren't supposed to let
skaters off anymore. You let them off and they
return as soon as your back is turned. Go ahead
and write them up for trespassing and anything
else you can stick them with, he said. "You
know I should write you up for trespassing.
Brian. You can't be doing this. Aren't you a little
old for that board, anyway?" "Aren't you a
little young for that badge, Fred?" Brian
climbed up out of the pool and over the fence.
He landed right in front of Fred. Their eyes met
dead on. "I'll let you go this time, Brian,"
Fred said, "but I can get in trouble for this. So
just don't come back, okay?" But Brian was
already by him. He was heading across the lot,
back to the street. Fred got back in his car. He
put his sunglasses back on, checking the mirror
to see they were straight. He dropped his car
into drive. Brian was on the street now, pushing
hard. Fred swerved the patrol car around him.
Neither looked up. I The sun had gone behind a
cloud. The sky looked lower than ever now. The
tops of the buildings were still there, but the sky
was just waiting for the right moment to drop
down and smother them all.
MY FIRST POOL
SILAL ALBA
I learned how to skate on Vernon Avenue in
Montclair during the summer after sixth grade.
My friend's brother Gary rode nose wheelies on
the freshly paved black asphalt. It looked so
cool, we bugged him to borrow his skate and try
it. After weeks of practice we both had nose
wheelies down better than Gary's brother did,
and from that point on he wouldn't let us use
his board anymore. He told us to get our own.
So we did. After six months or so, we were
pretty agile, learning tic-tacs, 360's, one-footed
nose wheelies, jumping over broomsticks,
bunny-hopping, etc. We didn't see much of my
friend's older brother anymore, so we followed
him one day to see where he skated. He
disappeared into this alleyway not even three
blocks away. Most of the time, we avoided the
place, these stoners hung out there and they
would kick your ass. As we turned down the
alleyway, Gary jumped a fence and vanished.
We hurriedly ran down the alley, picking up our
boards and trying hard not to be heard. Peering
through the wooden slats, we strained to see
what was going. I noticed the house was empty.
The grass needed mowing, the windows were
broken, and trash was strewn about the yard.
We both heard skateboard wheels and the sound
of wood hitting cement, but couldn't figure out
what was going on. We got up, jumped the other
fence and snuck up to the edge of the garage.
Three guys, my friend's brother Gary included,
were riding their skateboards in an empty
swimming pool, a right hand kidney to be exact.
They all took turns pushing into the deep end
and carving over the light hole in the middle of
the face wall. They all made it look so easy.
41
PRO
DESIGNED