by Cheree Alsop
He glared at me. “No one else to do it.”
I put up my hands. “I can barely make toast. I’m impressed.”
He shook his head and gestured toward a chair. I took a seat at a round plastic table with a hole in the middle where the umbrella used to go. Someone had drawn skulls and snakes in permanent marker on the white plastic. A few clumps of dried ketchup sat near one edge.
“Get in here,” Magnum yelled over his shoulder as he dished slightly overdone eggs onto five paper plates. He handed one to me, then sat down with another plate and a bottle of ketchup. He proceeded to squirt more ketchup onto the plate than there were eggs.
The little boy from earlier came into the kitchen wearing a pair of gray shorts and a shirt with a yellow stain across the front.
“You can’t wear that. Go change into something clean,” Magnum commanded.
“It is clean,” the boy argued.
Magnum pointed to the stain. “You’ll get sent home from school again. Hurry up and change or you’ll be late.”
Tommy sniffed and walked slowly from the room.
Magnum’s brother Derek came in next. I recognized him from the time Jaren pointed him out at the middle school. Derek had been following his brother’s footsteps bullying students; since Magnum and I spoke about it, I hadn’t heard any more complaints from Jaren.
Derek squinted at me. “Where’d you come from?”
“We were out riding late; forget about it.” Magnum answered shortly.
Derek grabbed a plate of eggs and scarfed them down in four big forkfuls. He ducked his head under the faucet and drank a few gulps of water, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grabbed his backpack.
A horn honked outside. “Jess, bus is here,” Magnum yelled.
“Coming,” came a shout from the back of the house.
Magnum held out the plate of eggs. It was grabbed by a tall, skinny girl with scraggly red hair as she rushed past. She barely glanced at me before she slammed the door.
“Wait up,” Derek yelled. He grabbed a handful of eggs from Magnum’s plate and shoved them in his mouth.
“Hey!” Magnum protested, but Derek was already out the door. Magnum muttered a creative string of curses before he yelled, “Tommy, move it!”
The five-year-old ran past wearing a green Hulk T-shirt and his gray shorts. Magnum forced him to take a plate of eggs as he bolted out the door. A few seconds later, the huff of a bus taking off sounded. Magnum fell back in his seat. “I swear that gets harder every day.” He then glanced at me as if just remembering I was there.
I hefted the eggs. “These aren’t bad.”
“Shut up,” Magnum growled.
I grinned and ate the last few bites, then stood up.
“How you feeling?” Magnum asked, his tone cautious.
I shrugged, not willing to put too much thought into the question. “I could use more sleep.”
He laughed, but the sound was cut short by a shout from the other side of the house.
“Charles, get in ‘ere,” a male voice demanded.
Magnum’s head jerked toward the command. For one second, he froze, his entire body completely still. He blew out a slow breath through his nose, then glanced at me. “I’ll be right back.”
He scraped what was left of the eggs into a blue plastic bowl from the counter, then left the kitchen.
Mumbling ensued from the back room; Magnum’s voice responded. The voice sounded louder, followed by the sharp crack of a slap. I tensed. I wanted to intervene, but I knew better than to get involved in family matters.
Magnum came back down the hall a few seconds later. A red handprint colored the side of his face. He grabbed a set of keys off the counter without looking at me and shoved the front door open. I followed him without a word. We climbed into his rusty red truck and soon the only sound was the hum of the tires over the road.
Magnum broke the silence just before we reached town. “It’s not perfect, but it’s my family.”
“You invited me into your house. You don’t have to defend your family to me,” I told him.
“It must look like a mess from the outside.” He paused, then gave a small, wry smile. “It looks like one from the inside.”
I shook my head. “At least it’s a family. You heard my story. There’s just me and Mom left now.” My voice lowered. “Pretty pathetic, considering what we used to be.”
Magnum glanced at me. “So you put your energy into fighting crime and stopping gangs?”
I shrugged, lost in the darkness of my thoughts.
Magnum broke the silence again as he pulled into the school parking lot. “It’s Thursday. You up for a race?”
His words turned my thoughts in a completely different direction. Excitement brushed through me. “Always. Should I race as the Black Rider, or as Kelson?”
Magnum glanced at me and chuckled. “Last time you raced as Kelson, I was the one who paid for it. Nobody would mind another race against the Black Rider.”
I nodded, knowing we both needed a new picture in the Bulldog Bulletin to take over the three-seater on my motorcycle with the truck driver. My thoughts turned to Martin. “I need your help with something.”
“I’m in,” Magnum replied.
I looked at him in surprise. “You don’t even know what it is.”
He shrugged. “When you say it like that, I know you’re up to something and I’d rather be part of it than read about it later.”
I nodded. “Fair enough.” I moved to open the door, but Magnum held up a hand.
“Wait until I leave. We shouldn’t be seen entering together.”
“Want another brawl?” I asked.
“I’m game if you are,” he said with a grin.
I lifted an eyebrow. “One of these days, I might not be able to just curl up and take it.”
He paused. “I’ve been on the real receiving end of your fists before. It’s not a great feeling.”
It was my turn to grin. “Watch the cheap shots.”
He shook his head with a wicked smile. “I can’t promise anything.”
I shook my head as he climbed out, waited until the rest of the Bullets met him at the side of the building, then slipped out to join the throng making their way to school.
I STOPPED BY MADELYN’S calculus class, but she wasn’t in her usual seat. Second-period music history crept by slowly. Madelyn’s empty seat next to mine was a constant reminder of last night and everything that had happened. I wanted to be with her again, to make sure she was all right. I needed to feel things move on so I wasn’t haunted by the reminders that were obvious in her absence.
Martin stopped me in the hall before I reached macroeconomics. “Have a good time at laser tag?” he asked.
I nodded. “It was fun,” I answered carefully.
His eyes narrowed behind his thick-rimmed glasses. “Was that before or after you stopped a robbery at the gas station near Enton?”
I widened my eyes in what I hoped was an innocent expression. “What are you talking about?”
He lowered his voice and stepped forward, staring up at me with all the fierceness his five-foot frame could muster. “The Black Rider stopped four men from robbing the gas station. According to the sheriff, it was quite a fight. Unfortunately, something happened to the security tape and it didn’t record properly, so I’ll have to take his word for it.”
“They would have let you watch the tape?” I asked doubtfully.
He shrugged with an air of confidence. “The gas station owner and my dad are good friends. It’s not hard to call in a favor when you have the right contacts.”
“That’s handy,” I replied dryly.
He watched me with all the careful scrutiny of a little boy with a bug under a microscope. “Your knuckles are bruised.”
“The Ashbys’ barn caught fire last night. Jaren was trapped under a beam and I scraped them trying to help him get free.” I lifted an eyebrow. “You must have heard about the fire fro
m your contacts.”
He cocked his head to the right, reminding me of Jagger’s Chihuahua when he tried to figure out a strange noise. “I’m watching you, Kelson.”
“Have fun with that,” I said with false confidence. “I work in a junkyard and on Uncle Rick’s farm. You’ll be able to write about junked cars and alfalfa.”
“And maybe a black motorcycle, an Er-6n with an updated exhaust system and a newly installed fender eliminator kit?” He watched me shrewdly. “It looks a lot better.”
I gave him a small smile. “Did you see the last time I was on a motorcycle? Magnum’s still out for blood.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but the bell rang.
“I’ve gotta go to class. It was nice talking to you,” I said. I stepped into macroeconomics and left him staring through the door.
MAGNUM MANAGED TO MAKE lunch exciting. I had just paid for my tray when the Bullets happened to mosey by. Thompson, a tall, skinny boy with a shaved head, hit the tray from my hands. It landed on the floor, sending chicken nuggets, green beans, and applesauce everywhere. An expectant hush fell over the cafeteria.
“Look what you did, loser,” Uzi, a thick-set boy with rings through his eyebrows, said. He waggled his eyebrows mockingly.
“Do you get good reception with those things?” I asked.
His expression turned confused, but the green-haired girl shoved him to the side. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”
“You do too,” I noted.
She glared at me. “Your respect for the Bullets is severely lacking.”
“It might be the lack of bullets,” I pointed out. I glanced at Magnum and saw that he was fighting not to laugh. If he wasn’t careful, he would blow our cover. I met his gaze. “How’s life treating you, Capgun?”
His smile vanished and was replaced with a glare. “It’s Magnum.”
“Are you sure that’s a real name?” I asked. “I like Capgun better.”
Whispers spread through the lunchroom, but it was stilled at one look from Magnum. He took a step toward me. “You spilled your food.”
I shrugged. “I’m a bit clumsy.”
“I wouldn’t want the lunch ladies to have to clean up after you,” he said with a pointed look at the floor.
I bent down and began picking up chicken nuggets.
“He’s getting away easy,” a boy with a red Mohawk said.
Magnum crouched next to me. “Uh-uh, Keldon,” he said loudly, stressing the wrong name. “Clean it up with your mouth.”
I fought to keep the anger from my face. I met Magnum’s eyes with enough of a glare to warn him that he was about to cross a line. His gaze tightened slightly with humor.
He stood. “I guess Keldon’s afraid of germs,” he said. Students around the lunchroom broke into uneasy laughter.
“Make him eat it anyway,” one of the Bullets urged. The others echoed the heartfelt sentiment.
“What’s going on here?” Principal Dawson asked. I gave a sigh of relief.
The Bullets immediately backed away.
“Nothing,” Magnum said. “Just helping Keldon clean up his spilled lunch.”
The principal looked at the mess on the floor. “Better get a rag from Ms. Smith,” he advised.
I nodded and turned away, grateful for both my sake and Magnum’s.
I MET MAGNUM AT his truck after school.
“I need you to take me to the hospital.”
Surprise lit his face. “Did you get in another fight?”
I rolled my eyes. “Madelyn is there with her mother. I need to go visit her.”
“I don’t know how I became your chauffeur,” Magnum grumbled, but he motioned for me to climb into the truck.
“Lucky, I guess,” I answered when we were both inside. “And for the record, Magnum is a far better name than Capgun.”
He fought back a smile and started the truck.
I made him stop at a grocery store for flowers, and then he dropped me off in front of the white stucco building. “I’ll wait here.” At my surprised look, he shrugged. “Someone needs to get you to the factory.”
I had forgotten about the races. I shook my head. “It might be better if I don’t race today. Martin’s been asking questions. I think he’s figured out that I’m the Black Rider.”
“Does he know there are two of us?”
“I don’t think so. He said the surveillance tape at the gas station had a problem and didn’t record.”
He chuckled. “Then I think you definitely have to ride today.”
I fought back a smile. “It could be risky.”
He shrugged. “Isn’t that what being the Black Rider is all about? Taking risks, saving lives, all that boring stuff?”
I grinned and opened the door. “It’s definitely worth a try. Martin’s too curious for his own good.”
“Makes for a good reporter.”
I laughed. “You didn’t think so a month ago.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s because everything he wrote was against the Bullets.”
“You gave him a lot to write about.”
Magnum grinned. “Yeah, we did.”
I grabbed the flowers. “I’ll be right back.”
The nurse at the desk directed me toward Mrs. West’s room. I peeked through the partially open door to see Mr. West sitting in a chair with his head against the wall, and Madelyn hunched over with her elbows on her knees. She looked up suddenly as if expecting something. When her eyes met mine, such joy filled her features that I felt my heart would burst. She jumped out of her chair and threw her arms around me.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I told her, smoothing her hair. “Your mother should be your biggest concern.” I looked at Mrs. West’s pale form on the bed. She looked so tiny surrounded by IVs and beeping machines. I wondered how she managed to sleep through all the noise. “How is she doing?”
Mr. West rose and shook his head. “Not well.” He held out a hand and I shook it. “Thank you for coming. They’ll be transporting Mindy to the city in an hour.”
I looked at Madelyn in surprise. “I didn’t realize it was so serious.”
Her brows pulled together in worry. “It started as just a cold, but it settled into her lungs. She has pneumonia and they don’t have the equipment to care for all her needs here.”
I nodded and gave her my most reassuring smile. “I’m sure she’ll be all right.”
“She’s a fighter,” Mr. West replied, but there was a heaviness to his tone that he couldn’t suppress.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.
I held out the flowers to Madelyn and she took them with a grateful smile. “If we don’t get home tonight, could you feed Buck?”
“I’d be happy to.” The thought of spending a night without seeing her was painful, but I knew the emotion was selfish compared to a daughter’s concern for her mother’s health. I wanted to kiss her and tell her how much I would miss her, but her father didn’t know how often we saw each other. I settled for kissing her forehead. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” she said softly. I held her in my arms for a moment, and then she stepped back with a sigh. “Thank you for coming.”
“Let me know if you need anything at all,” I repeated.
I made my way back to the truck with slow steps. It wasn’t until I was almost there that I noticed the blue crossover motorcycle in the back. It was the same motorcycle I had wrecked during my first race at the factory. Magnum had fixed it up so it was in much better shape.
“We’re getting there late, so no one will notice if you’re the one driving,” Magnum explained.
A thought occurred to me. “What happened to your black truck?”
He clenched his jaw as he turned the engine over. “You mean the one you dented with my motorcycle?”
At my amused nod, he looked like he wanted to punch me
. I wondered if I could goad him into fighting me away from anyone’s view. It would be nice to get a little payback for the fight at lunch.
His gaze simmered as if he guessed my thoughts. “Dad took it back and left me with this junker. Said I didn’t deserve a vehicle I couldn’t take care of.”
I laughed out loud. “What did you tell him happened to it?”
Magnum’s eyes narrowed. “The truth. I said some new kid wannabe hit it with a motorcycle.”
“Did you tell him it was your motorcycle?”
He nodded and grinned in spite of himself. “That’s when he took the truck away.”
I dropped him off at his house to pick up one of the motorcycles we left there the night before, then made my way to the factory. The crowd was cheering on the beginner racers, newbie bikers who didn’t really race so much as survive the trip around the track while the audience waited for the real race to begin. Small handfuls of cash, candy bars, playing cards, and anything else students valued were exchanged for bets on the fastest bikers.
The air smelled like burning rubber and the bags of popcorn an enterprising student sold from the back of her truck. Everyone jostled each other in an effort to get a good view. Cell phones recorded the first bikers in the hopes that something exciting would happen. The races were well underway when I found Martin in the crowd.
He pushed his glasses up when he saw me. “You’re not racing?”
“Of course he’s not,” Cassidy said, surprising me with her sudden appearance from the crowd. My cousin gave me a knowing wink.
“Don’t you remember how he nearly killed himself last time?” Sandy asked, leaning against her friend. I felt a surge of gratitude for the wispy girl who was inseparable from Cassidy.
Martin shrugged, unconvinced. “The students will be disappointed if the Black Rider doesn’t show up.”
Sandy stared at him. “Are you implying that Kelson’s the Black Rider?” She laughed so hard she snorted. “He couldn’t jump from a roof on a motorcycle if his life depended on it!” She gave me an appraising look. “He’s not tall enough, not muscly enough—no offense—and he’s kind of a pushover.”
Cassidy smothered a laugh while I tried to take it good-naturedly. “I’m not a pushover.”