Excerpts for Dying to Go Viral
It was a perfect day to die: Labour Day, that last breath of freedom before starting school. Cotton ball clouds sailed in a baby blue sky. White gold sunshine warmed the fall air. And I had someplace to go.
I walked onto the driveway in front of our house clutching the skateboard my brother Devon had given me last week for my 14th birthday. The sandpaper-covered deck felt rough against my palms but the bottom felt slick.
"It's not safe," my father had told Devon at our breakfast celebration. "I don't like it when you jump around on concrete and now you're starting her."
"I won't do jumps," I had promised him as I sat at the kitchen table admiring my present. The bottom of the board was red with orange flames spelling out the word "hot." "And I'll always wear my helmet."