Chapter Text
Marty’s fingers had barely found purchase on the back of the Jeep when it suddenly slowed, coming to a gentle stop near the curb. He waited a beat, visually searched the street for an explanation, then stared at the back of the driver’s head for more seconds than he could afford to this morning.
“Yo!” He reached around and knocked on the side of the vehicle. “Sherm, what gives?”
The man twisted around in his seat. “I read an article in the paper.”
“You read an article in the paper. Well, hey, good for you. I’m kind of in a rush—”
“It was about this,” Sherman interrupted, waving his hand in Marty’s direction. “Skitching, I think it’s called.”
No additional elaboration came. Marty risked a nervous glance at his watch, then threw his arms out wide. “And?”
“It’s dangerous.”
“No offense, Sherm, but you needed a newspaper article to tell you that?”
The grunt of a laugh told Marty that no offense was taken.
“Just don’t know how I feel now about you hitchin’ these rides. One wrong move, and they’ll be scraping you off the road.”
Marty winced at the imagery, then shook it from his mind. Strickland was probably already planning a special assembly to yell at him in front of the entire student body for being late. “Look, I appreciate that you don’t want me to end up as roadkill and all, but I really need to get to school.”
Sherman didn’t budge.
“Aw, come on! Come on, come on, I’m a pro! I won’t fall off the board. I’ve got a real good grip, see?” He made a show of adjusting his hold on the vehicle and flashed a grin, which Sherm only frowned at. Marty heaved a sigh. “Pretend you don’t see me, okay? Pretend I’m not even here. Which is what’s going to happen if I don’t get to school soon, on account of Mr. Strickland is gonna kill me. You’ll be hauling my skateboarding ghost around town, Sherm.”
At that, the man cracked a smile, then punctuated it with a shake of his head. “Well, I gotta get to work, anyhow. Alright, fine, I don’t see ya! You’re invisible to me.”
“Perfect. Let’s roll.”