by Cheree Alsop
Sandy grinned to show her black-and-yellow braces. “The Bullets walk all over you. The Black Rider laid them out, like, a dozen times. There’s no way he would stand for Magnum’s bullying.”
I rolled my eyes while Martin pointed out that it hadn’t been nearly a dozen times that the Black Rider had bested the Bullets. Then the roar of a familiar motorcycle filled the air. I grinned at Martin’s still-suspicious gaze. “If I’m the Black Rider, how is he over there?”
More people had been following the conversation than I realized. At my comment, nearly half the crowd turned to see Magnum dressed as the Black Rider as he parked near the first warehouse. He revved the engine and a cheer went up from the crowd. Cassidy turned back to me with her mouth open. She was the only one there who knew my secret, so her surprise was the greatest of all. I threw her a smile before I turned back to Martin.
“Sorry,” I apologized to the high school journalist. “Guess you’ll have to find a lead elsewhere.”
He let out a disappointed huff and stalked through the crowd in an effort to get a picture of the Black Rider for the Bulletin.
Cassidy leaned close to me. “If you’re here, who’s that?”
I winked at her. “Guess I still have some secrets.”
“Kelson,” she said in frustration. I left her steaming next to Sandy.
I grabbed a set of gray-and-blue riding clothes from Magnum’s truck, then drove his motorcycle to the back of one of the warehouses. He showed up a few minutes later and changed quickly.
“It’s gotta be hard on your self-esteem to meet cheers like that,” he said as he pulled on his blue helmet.
I zipped up the black jacket he gave me and slid up the dark visor on the black helmet. “It makes our little quarrel in the lunchroom a bit easier to face.”
He laughed as he climbed onto his crossover motorcycle. “It was just a chicken nugget.”
“From the floor,” I said in disgust.
“Next time, you’re eating it,” he threatened.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” I replied. I gunned the engine and drove out to face the crowd.
“Dibs on the Black Rider!” someone called out. Soon, everyone was exchanging gum, candy bars, allowances, and anything else they could place on the race. The black-and-blue crossover pulled up a few seconds later. A girl with a white cowboy hat crossed to the starting line.
“About time you got here,” the boy with the red Mohawk said. It was the first time I had ever heard any of the Bullet members say something so pointedly rude to their leader’s face.
Magnum silenced him with a glare.
“Thought you’d show up and take charge?” asked Beretta, a girl with spikey hair now held in check by her neon pink helmet.
“Shut up and ride,” Magnum barked.
He revved his engine and took off as soon as the white cowboy hat hit the ground.
I followed close behind, my mind more on the attitudes of the Bullet members than on the race. The first turn through the warehouse doors brought me back.
I swept low, my left knee brushing the ground as I rode with my front tire inches from Magnum’s back one. We pulled upright, then ducked through a low-framed door and raced across the cracked cement floor. Magnum drove like a demon followed on his heels. I trailed him closely, but the Bullet members and other riders fell back.
We turned right and crossed the expanse to the second warehouse, then took the ramp up to the stretch of metal set between the two rooftops. Magnum barely slowed when he reached the stairs. His back tire clipped the corner of the sharp turn at the bottom and nearly sent him off his motorcycle. He kept his seat and surged forward. I followed close behind.
Another left turn put us at the last stretch. Students shouted and jostled each other when they saw Magnum in the lead. The other riders began to catch up, pushing their skills to the very edge. I held close to the last corner, cutting in to Magnum’s left side. We crossed the starting point shoulder to shoulder.
A glance showed fierce determination on Magnum’s face. He glared at the ground as if daring it to slow him down. He threw a look over his shoulder, then took the left turn. The riders behind us pressed forward at the challenge.
I realized that winning meant more to Magnum than it did to the Black Rider. He had something to prove; the Black Rider didn’t. We crossed the metal span side by side; I had to back off at the stairs because there wasn’t room for two riders abreast. When we hit the ground, the riders behind us pressed at our backs.
I took the next turn wide, nearly clipping two of them with my back tire. They fell behind at the stretch, then the boy with the red Mohawk downshifted and tried to cut the next corner. I took the turn with my knee scraping the ground, blocking him from effectively gunning past. Magnum cleared the finish line, and I followed in the next second. Three disgruntled members of the Bullet gang came next.
Magnum didn’t stop at the finish line. He rode straight to his truck and drove the motorcycle up the ramp and into the bed. A crowd of students pressed around me, patting my back and reaching forward to touch my helmet. It had become something of a lucky totem to the students. They dared each other to touch it, then laughed in triumph when they were successful.
“Awesome ride,” said a boy with a black eye. “You almost had him.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
I kept my eyes on Magnum as he tied the motorcycle down. Students surrounded his truck, congratulating him on the ride. He spoke to a few of them, but his answers were short and his frustration clear. The two girls from the Bullets hurried over and tried to talk to him, but he didn’t bother to hide his annoyance with them and they eventually gave up.
“Thanks again for what you did at the fair,” a girl with long brown braids and a red bandana around her head said. “You saved my cow.”
I really looked at her. There were tears in her eyes. I never could understand the relationship some of these farmers had with their livestock, but it was obvious how much it meant to her. “I was happy to help,” I said honestly.
“It was incredible!” gushed a young boy who must have been brought to the races by an older sibling. “You took a picture with my friend Mark. He got a bullet taken out of his arm. He said you were shot too!”
I nodded and saw Martin out of the corner of my eye. Any impulse I had to show off my battle wounds vanished completely at the knowledge that he had already seen the bruises. “It was a bit uncomfortable,” I said.
The audience around me laughed.
A kid with bright red hair and a tie-dye shirt held up a handful of dollars and several candy bars. “This is your share.”
“But I didn’t win,” I said in surprise.
He shrugged. “They said you’d make top three. No one can beat Magnum every time.” He paused with a smile. “Actually, until you got here, no one could be Magnum at all.”
I accepted the loot and shoved it in my jacket pocket. “Thanks.”
I looked over to see Magnum arguing with the red Mohawk Bullet. He waved an arm to indicate the crowd, then shouted something. The Bullet member turned away and stalked through the crowd. Magnum watched him go, his expression livid. He punched his truck hard enough to leave a dent in the hood, then climbed inside and stared unseeing out the windshield. I decided that I was my cue to go.
“See ya around,” I told the crowd. They backed up and left an empty patch for me to leave. It was obvious what they wanted. I fought back a smile and popped the clutch to jump the front tire in the air, then rode out of the factory grounds on a wheelie. The cheers of the crowd echoed in my helmet long after they had vanished far behind.
“A BIT OF A showoff, aren’t you?” Magnum said as we pulled a car hood close to the door in the middle of the junkyard.
It was Magnum’s idea to turn the junkyard into a hideout for our escapades. Since I was so used to spending my afternoons organizing car parts, it didn’t bother me to work them into a stack that effectively hid the entrance to the fallo
ut shelter.
“It comes with the territory,” I said, pushing a car door up to hold the hood in place.
“What, being cocky?”
I looked up at the challenge in his tone. “Receiving gratitude. They were thankful for what happened at the fair. It’d be rude not to let them express how they felt when I saved their lives.”
“Glory hound,” Magnum muttered.
I gritted my teeth and fought back the impulse to hit him.
“If I didn’t know you better, I would say you did it for the attention,” he goaded.
I clenched my hands around a steering column and shoved it in place. “You know that’s not true.”
“Maybe your fear of fire is just to get attention,” he continued.
I slammed him in the chest with a two-handed punch before he could react. He fell backward into the dirt, then came up swinging. I blocked a right hook and popped him in the jaw with a quick right of my own. He let out a roar that would have done a lion proud and tried to run me down. I stepped to the side and spun on one knee, bringing my other leg around to sweep his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, then rolled and kicked, catching me in the leg.
I grabbed his foot and turned it, forcing him to flip over on his stomach again. I slammed a knee into his low back and kept ahold of his ankle, twisting it to the point of excruciating pain.
“Argh! Let go!” Magnum shouted.
I let go and stepped back in case he decided to retaliate. He stayed on his stomach in the dirt, his chest heaving and sweat trickling down his face. After a minute, he ran a hand through his red hair. “I didn’t mean it,” he said into the ground. When I didn’t answer, he rolled over and looked up at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
I walked to a far pile of crooked bike tire frames to let the adrenaline fade, then grabbed one and brought it back. I tossed it on our hideout before sliding down to sit near Magnum. “I know what the other Bullets said got under your skin. I shouldn’t have let you get me fired up.”
He sat up and grabbed a bike chain. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
I shrugged and kept my eyes on a patch of dirt caking the knee of my pants. “Maybe I do take it too far. It’s just nice to hear people who are proud of me for a change.”
“You deserve it,” Magnum answered. He squinted at me. “You got shot for them and for me. You did the bravest thing this town has ever seen. You deserve the gratitude.”
Uncomfortable, I changed the subject. “The Bullets are rebelling.”
Magnum let out a sigh and nodded. “They feel like I’ve abandoned them. They don’t understand what I do at night.”
“You mean instead of roughing up new students or petty theft at convenience stores?” I asked with a joking tone.
His countenance darkened. “You make it sound like we were no better than those gas station robbers.”
“From my point of view when I first came to Sparrow, you weren’t,” I said honestly.
He fell silent for a few minutes, turning the bike chain over and over in his hands. Finally, he spoke with his gaze on the chain. “It was different because the town knew us. They knew we wouldn’t hurt them.”
I thought about it and nodded. No matter what it had looked like to me, there was a big difference between a town gang of friends who were lost and causing trouble and a group of four guys with a gun holding up a gas station. Magnum had never shot anyone.
“I know you lost the race today on purpose.”
I glanced at him, keeping my face carefully expressionless. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He blew out a breath and chucked the bike chain onto a random pile. “Cut the crap, Kelson. It was obvious.”
“Hopefully not to everyone else,” I muttered.
He shook his head. “Why not keep the Black Rider’s perfect streak? I don’t get it.”
I glanced at him. “I heard the way the Bullets were talking to you. You need their respect more than I do.”
He squinted at the ground, his expression distant. “I’m not sure if I want it anymore.”
I studied him, but kept silent. He was obviously going through some things with his gang, but I wouldn’t press him. If he needed someone to talk to, he knew he could talk to me.
He stood up and held out a hand. I grabbed it and he pulled me to my feet. “Let’s go for a ride.”
I was more than happy to jump on my motorcycle and lead the way out of the junkyard. Night fell around us, chasing away the thoughts of daylight and leaving the clarity of headlights and shadow. Stars chased each other through the black tapestry above, white streaks that served as a stubborn reminder that our lives were merely tiny specks within a grand display of fire and fireworks. We could only try to burn bright and hope to leave a mark worth following. The thought was both hopeful and sobering. I wanted to leave a mark worthy of both me and my sister.
WE WERE ABOUT TO head back to the junkyard after an uneventful night ride when a cluster of teenagers in an empty grocery store parking lot caught my attention. The store had been closed for at least two hours, and no car was in sight. I motioned for Magnum to circle to the back of the lot.
I drove slowly across the pavement, curious what held their attention. At the sound of my engine, all of the boys looked up. The wide-eyed looks they shot each other when they realized who I was made me smile beneath my visor. A few of the older boys glared, not happy to have their fun broken up. They held a black-haired kid between them. My smile faded at the sight of a small switchblade in one boy’s hand.
“Let him go,” the boy they were holding yelled.
I realized then that the form at their feet was a medium-sized brown dog. His paws had been tied with bailing twine and someone had looped a belt around his muzzle to keep him from biting.
I turned off the engine and climbed from the bike. “What’s going on here?” I asked.
“They took my dog,” the dark-haired boy said. A light of hope showed in his eyes. It was obvious how much he cared about the animal.
I turned to the leader with the switchblade. “What were you planning to do with it?”
He shrugged. “We were just having a little fun. No big deal.”
I nodded toward the dog. “He thinks it’s a big deal.” The animal’s brown eyes were wide and he whimpered. The belt was tight around his muzzle, pulling at his skin.
“We were just going to rough them up a bit and let them go. Honest. Tell him, Rod,” a younger boy said from behind the leader.
Rod turned and glared at the boy. “Shut your mouth.”
“Let the boy and the dog go,” I said in a steel voice that carried across the parking lot.
One of the kids moved to comply, but at Rod’s look he backed away and studied the cement under his feet. “What if we don’t want to?” Rod asked. “You’re outnumbered.”
“You’re kids,” I said with a touch of humor he didn’t like.
“And there’s two of us.”
All the teenagers spun around at the sound of Magnum’s voice. He had parked his motorcycle around the grocery store and walked to us without drawing attention. Now he stood a few feet away with his arms crossed, looking very intimidating in all black.
“There’s two of you?” Rod said, followed by several curse words from others in the group.
I shrugged. “We wouldn’t mind a brawl with kids. Might help loosen us up. What do you say?”
Rod shook his head. “Naw, man. I think we’re good.” He backed away and motioned for his comrades to let go of the boy. As soon as he was free, he dropped to his knees next to the dog and tried to untie the twine from its paws.
Rod’s teenage gang turned to leave. “Rod, wait,” I said, using the tone Uncle Rick did when he demanded obedience.
Rod turned reluctantly as the rest of the boys took off across the parking lot. I closed the space between us until his face was inches from my visor. He stared at his own reflection, his face pale.
&n
bsp; “If I ever catch you picking on kids or animals again, you will answer directly to me. Do you understand?”
He nodded a bit reluctantly.
I grabbed the collar of his shirt and lifted him up. “Do you understand?” I shouted.
“Yes,” he squeaked.
I set him back down, but didn’t let go of his shirt. “You are an example to those kids back there. Make sure it’s one worth following. You got me?”
He nodded and dropped his eyes. “Y—yes. I’m sorry.”
I let him go and he took off running across the parking lot after the others. I turned back to the boy with the dog. Now that the teenage gang was gone, tears were streaming down his face. He pulled at the twine, but couldn’t untie it. Magnum watched with his arms still crossed, his shoulders hunched like he didn’t know what to do.
I knelt next to the boy and pulled off my gloves. Taking the dog’s paws from him gently, I undid the twine as quickly as I could. The dog didn’t make a sound as if he knew I was trying to help. I then slid the belt muzzle carefully from the dog’s face, aware he could try to bite me as soon as it was free.
Instead, the dog jumped up and licked the boy all over, wagging its long tail and whining with relief. The boy laughed through his tears, hugging the dog to his chest and smiling when it licked his cheeks with an eager tongue.
The dog then ran back to me and tried to do the same. I stood up quickly, but not before it managed to lick my visor and smear drool across my vision. It then licked my bare hand with the energy of Cole on caffeine.
“That’s enough,” I told the dog as I pulled on the gloves to hide them from his enthusiasm.
“Thank you,” the boy said.
“You don’t need to thank us,” I told him. “Just get both of you home safe and avoid empty parking lots at night, especially if those guys are wandering around.”
He nodded quickly. “I will.”
Magnum slapped his knee. “Come here, pooch.”
The dog stopped its happy tail wagging and bared its teeth at Magnum. He took a few steps back.