Rainparade91

Hello, I am at my uncle Tommy's beach house, upstairs, alone. It's around nine o'clock. I have a pen and my notebook... I don't know where to start. I don't even know if I'll manage, but I have to try. It can't get any worse than this anyway... Outside it's raining and dark. You can hear the waves, far away, crashing on the beach like little explosions. Okay. I just went downstairs to make myself a hot chocolate. I told myself: "Listen, buddy, relax and write something." I just need to start from the beginning, take it easy, stay calm... Paranoid Park. This is the starting point. Paranoid Park is a hangout for skaters in downtown Portland. It's under the Eastside Bridge, near the old warehouses. It's an unauthorized skatepark, so there are no rules or owners and you don't pay to get in. Apparently, it was set up by some old-school skaters and no one knows how it still manages to survive. Crazy skaters go there, people coming from California, the East Coast, and a bit from everywhere. It's also a meeting point for kids who live on the street. A thousand stories are told, like that of a skinhead who was once stabbed. That's why they call it Paranoid Park: because it's dangerous, basically it's rough. I heard about Paranoid Park from Jared Pitch. He goes to my school and is a few years older than me. And he's as crazy as few others, but totally into it: he's one of the best skaters at school. Like, he clings to vans moving over sixty miles per hour and even gets filmed doing it. That's how we became friends. I was just starting to get the hang of skating, and he gave me some tips to improve. He has a collection of videos of his stunts and also others on skateboarding, the kind you definitely won't find in blockbusters. He knew what the coolest stuff was, so we became friends. Last summer we skated every day. We cruised around the city, to various places, like that old abandoned parking lot where anyone could go and have fun or to the "suicide stairs," near the river, where there was always a crowd. Places like that. I've already said it: I wasn't as good as Jared yet, but I learned fast. And he liked to bring along a smart kid to teach and show what he knew how to do. Well, the last week of summer, one day we were out in Portland, Jared suggested going for a visit to Paranoid Park. At first I didn't answer. I'd heard about it, of course, but I had never even thought of going there. I was convinced I wasn't up to it, but Jared, when I confessed I didn't feel ready, burst out laughing: "No one is ever really ready for Paranoid Park." So we went. I was nervous, but at the same time excited. Skating at Paranoid Park was a unique experience. Something to tell stories about. Paranoid Park,Nelson Blake