“But then where did he get the orange spray paint?”
“Maybe he already had it,” Richard says. “Maybe he’s one of those kids who’s always tagging stuff.”
Richard yanks off the cardboard, and they both stare at the orange bike for a few seconds. Then Richard pushes up the kickstand with his foot and hurriedly walks the bicycle out of the alley and down the street with Gavin close behind. Gavin stares at the bike. He wants to ride it, but Richard is on foot, so Gavin will have to wait until he’s on his way home.
As soon as they get back to Richard’s house, Richard puts the orange bicycle in his backyard. Gavin can figure out what to do later. He needs time to decide what he’s going to tell his parents. They might not like the idea of him just sneaking over to Khufu’s and taking his bike back. Without permission.
Richard and Gavin slip into the house through the back door. Richard gets the box of cinnamon cereal and two bowls out of the cabinet. He pours some cereal into them. He gets the milk out of the refrigerator and hands it to Gavin. Gavin pours milk over his cereal and digs in. He hasn’t realized until that moment that he’s starving. Richard must be too, because for a while, neither of them says a word. The cinnamon cereal tastes great.
“Let’s ride our bikes to the park later,” Richard suggests.
“I have to go home first and get my chores out of the way.”
“How long will that take?”
“Couple of hours.”
Richard rolls his eyes. “Okay. I’ll call Carlos and Calvin and see if they can meet us.”
Everything feels a little off to Gavin. He can’t put his finger on it. And it’s not just that Roland’s helmet, which he lent to Gavin for the ride home, doesn’t fit quite right. It’s something about the bicycle’s seat. It doesn’t feel familiar. And are the handlebars a little bit higher than he remembers? He shakes his head. It’s probably just his imagination.
When Gavin reaches his house, it’s still early enough to walk the bike around to the backyard and not be noticed. He hides it behind the toolshed as quietly as possible. He can’t believe how easy it was—to get his bike back. Of course, his mother and father might not see it that way. They might think it wasn’t such a good idea to go to Khufu’s house and just, well, steal the bike back.
Suddenly it occurs to him that he can’t meet his friends at the park to go bike riding. He’s not going to be able to bring that bicycle out into the open until he explains things to his parents. It’s his bike, but his parents aren’t going to like the way he got it.
Gavin starts on his chores with his head full of heavy thoughts. While he sweeps the front porch, his mind goes to the orange bike behind the toolshed—and the funny feel of the seat. Maybe Khufu’s weight did something to it. No, that isn’t very likely. Khufu is just a skinny little kid. His weight wouldn’t have done anything.
But it’s more than that. The bike just doesn’t feel like the bike he remembers. There’s something else that’s different.
“What are you doing?” It’s Danielle, standing in the doorway with a blueberry muffin in her hand. And he’d thought all the muffins were gone. He’d specifically looked for the package as soon as he got home.
“Where did you get that muffin? I thought they were all gone.”
“Ha! Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Are you hiding muffins in your bedroom?”
Danielle ignores the question and gets back to the subject at hand. “You’re just standing there with the broom and a funny look on your face. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking about something.”
“You, thinking?”
She laughs, takes a big bite out of her muffin, and goes back inside.
As soon as Gavin finishes the porch, he makes a trip to the back of the toolshed to look at his bike. It’s still there. But what good is a bicycle if you can’t ride it? He can’t ride it to school. Khufu would claim that it belongs to him. He can’t ride it to the park, because he hasn’t told his parents about going to Khufu’s and “stealing” it back. The bike just has to sit there, unrideable, until he can straighten everything out.
Gavin sighs. Now it’s time to tackle his bedroom: dust; change the linens; clean under the bed; vacuum. Oh, the misery of Saturday chores.
“Pass the mashed potatoes, please,” Danielle says. She smiles politely at Gavin, and he immediately wonders what’s up. Danielle is only super polite when she’s about to do him in somehow. He frowns and passes the potatoes.
“And then pass them this way,” says his father.
Everyone is at the dining room table for dinner, even Aunt Myrtle. She’s feeling much better and will probably be in great shape when Uncle Vestor comes to pick her up in three or four days—after his conference is over. Something occurs to Gavin then. Something so bizarre, he almost pushes it out of his head. Does Uncle Vestor just make up these conferences so he can get away? Maybe go fishing with his buddies?
Actually, it doesn’t matter, because this time, Gavin has actually enjoyed having GAM at his house. He’s appreciated her take on the whole bike thing. Even though it’s put a small doubt in his mind.
“Gavin,” Danielle pipes up, “do you plan to try to save up for a new bike?”
“I’ll be saving for the next ten years,” Gavin says.
His mother smiles. “Well, at least we’ll know what to get him for his next birthday.”
“Tell you what,” his father says. “I’ll match every dollar you save, and that way you’ll be able to replace the bike quicker. It won’t seem so impossible.”
Gavin thinks. He does still have some birthday money. But then he shakes himself out of it. He’s forgotten already. He has a bicycle. It’s behind the toolshed. He just needs to let his parents in on what he did: that he took his bike back, since he is the rightful owner. If he puts it that way, they just might understand.
His thoughts are interrupted by Danielle’s voice. “But what about that orange bike you’ve got hidden behind the toolshed?”
All heads turn toward Gavin. He stops breathing. GAM is frowning. There also seems to be a look of disappointment in her eyes. Perhaps she thought he wouldn’t go through with the scheme he and his friends cooked up.
“What’s Danielle talking about?” his mother asks. Both his mother and his father wait for him to answer.
Gavin studies his mound of peas. When he glances up, his parents are still looking at him and waiting.
“I found out who stole my bike,” Gavin tells them.
“What?” his mother and father say at the same time.
“It was this new kid, Khufu. He took my bike.”
“How do you know this?” his mother asks.
Danielle is leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. “Yeah,” she adds. “How do you know this kid took your bike?”
Gavin is ready with his list. “Number one, the day my bike was stolen, he left school early. He said he had a dentist appointment, but I don’t believe that. I think he changed the time on his appointment slip so he could leave early and take my bike.”
“That’s kind of a stretch,” his father says.
“Yeah—a stretch,” Danielle agrees.
Gavin scowls at her and goes on. “Then the next day, there was this bike in the bike rack that looked like it was spray-painted this ugly orange to hide the real color. Which I think was silver and blue, the color of my bike. And it had the same spokes and the same seat and it was the same size. And it was a BMX like my bike. Plus it was Khufu who brought that bike to school. My bike.”
His mother and father are looking at him as if they’re having some trouble following all of this.
“So you stole the bike back?” his mother asks.
“I don’t think it’s stealing if it’s my bike in the first place.”
“You don’t know that,” his mother says. GAM nods slowly.
Gavin is quiet.
“I want you to think about this,” his father
says. “Finish your dinner. I need you to show me what makes you certain that that bike is yours. Whatever the case may be, we—your mother and I—need to talk to this boy’s parents.”
“He only has a father,” Gavin says, more to himself than to anyone else.
After dinner, Gavin, his father, his mother, and of course Danielle traipse out to the back of the toolshed to study the orange bicycle. Gavin’s father wheels it to the light of the back porch. He lowers the kickstand so the bike can be upright on its own under the light. All four of them stare at it.
“It does look like it was spray-painted this color,” his father says.
“And it’s a BMX and it’s the same size as mine,” Gavin adds.
“Still, that doesn’t mean it’s your bike,” his mother counters.
“He could have just wanted a bike that color,” Danielle says.
Gavin glares at her. Why is she rooting for the person who stole his bike?
“Then he could have just gotten an orange bicycle,” his mother says.
Danielle opens her mouth, but their father’s voice cuts her off.
“We’re going to think this thing through. Meanwhile, no riding that bike until we get a chance to speak to this Khufu person’s parents.”
“He lives with just his father.”
“You have his telephone number?” his father asks.
“No. I can get it on Monday.”
His father sighs. “I don’t feel comfortable waiting until Monday to settle this. Get your jacket, Gavin. You know where he lives. We can take care of this now.”
“Wait until Monday,” Gavin’s mother says. “Then you’ll have time to think of the best way to approach this situation.”
His father seems to be thinking about her suggestion. Finally, he says, “Okay, Monday.”
Nine
The Awful Thing That Happened
On Monday, the students from Room Ten are lined up in their assigned area when Gavin sees Khufu slowly crossing the yard. Gavin, Richard, Carlos, and Calvin glance at one another. There’s something about the slump of Khufu’s shoulders and the slowness of his gait that lets them know that he has discovered “his” bike is gone. Gavin and his friends exchange glances again.
Khufu joins the line and stands there motionless. Usually he has a book in his hand that he opens up to read while everyone waits for Ms. Shelby-Ortiz. This time he just stares ahead blankly. When Ms. Shelby-Ortiz arrives to lead them to the classroom, Antonia, who’s standing behind Khufu, has to nudge him to get moving.
Once in Room Ten, he puts his things away in his cubby, goes to his desk, sinks into his chair, and sits there looking as if he’s in his own world. Gavin finishes up at his cubby and takes his seat. He checks the morning journal topic, happy to see that it’s open. Gavin’s relieved. They usually have to write about their weekend on Monday mornings. Maybe Ms. Shelby-Ortiz forgot. He wants to write about his stolen bicycle again. How it felt to get it back. He plans to leave out the part about taking it back from Khufu.
As usual, Khufu has dived in and is writing in his journal nonstop. Gavin sneaks a glance and almost feels sorry for him. As usual, Khufu seems to have a lot to say. He continues even after Ms. Shelby-Ortiz calls time. “Pencils down,” she says. Then, “You know—we haven’t had any sharing in a while. Is there someone who’d like to share their journal entry?”
Khufu’s hand shoots up. Ms. Shelby-Ortiz looks a bit surprised. Khufu has such a determined look on his face, she probably feels she has to pick him.
“Okay,” she says. “You may share yours, Khufu.”
Some kids are talking, and Khufu stands and waits with his mouth zipped. He looks as if he would waits a year if need be.
“All mouths closed and give Khufu your undivided attention,” Ms. Shelby-Ortiz says.
When they are finally quiet, he begins:
“Dear Morning Journal, on Saturday, I experienced the worst day of my life.”
Everyone stops their fidgeting and turns toward Khufu to really give him their undivided attention.
“I have to back up. See, I always wanted a bike, but there never was enough money for me to get one. I live in a tiny studio apartment with my father. He does odd jobs, so there’s only enough money for food and shelter. Last week was my birthday, and my father surprised me with a used BMX bike. I was so, so happy. There was just one problem. It was pink. Because it was a girl’s bike. And it belonged to our neighbor’s daughter, who’s a grownup now. Or she’s in high school. I was happy anyway, and my dad said he’d fix the color. He got some spray paint and painted it orange—which was not the best color, but that color was on sale.”
Gavin begins to get a horrible sinking feeling.
“Now, let me tell you what it felt like when I was riding my bike. It felt like I was free. It felt like I was flying—and it felt like I could go anywhere in the world. So I was super happy.
I had to keep my bike behind the big trash bin and I had to hide it under some cardboard because our apartment is so small, the bike would have taken up too much space. On Saturday, my dad said I could ride my bike at the park, and I was so happy and was feeling so lucky. And I was happy that my father had gotten this good job at Simply Delicious Health Food Store. I went to get my bike from my hiding place . . .”
Khufu stops here, and it seems as if he’s trying to keep from crying. Gavin’s horrible, awful feeling is getting worse. He hopes that Khufu doesn’t start to cry. He looks over at Richard, who’s staring at his hands on his lap. Carlos is frowning, and Calvin is staring at Khufu with his lips parted and his eyes wide.
Finally, Khufu pulls himself together and continues. “It wasn’t there. I searched the whole alley. My dad came down and helped me search. It was gone. Someone stole it. For that person, it was nothing. But for me, that bike was everything.
“Maybe when I grow up and get a job, I can get another bike. But it won’t feel like my first bike. Even if it was once pink and my dad had to spray-paint it with paint he got on sale.”
The class is quiet for a few seconds after Khufu finishes. Ms. Shelby-Ortiz is quiet too. It’s as if everyone is thinking about what Khufu wrote. Then Deja starts waving her hand around until Ms. Shelby-Ortiz calls on her. “Deja?”
“What about that bar thing that boys’ bikes have? People would still know that it’s not a boy bike without that bar thing.”
Khufu looks at her for a few seconds. “It had the bar thing. The only reason why girls’ bikes were different in the past was because girls wore dresses. Bikes without bars accommodated girls who wore dresses. Girls don’t wear dresses as much now.”
Rosario’s hand shoots up and she waves it around until Ms. Shelby-Ortiz calls on her. “Ms. Shelby-Ortiz, I happen to think that horrible person who stole Khufu’s bike should be put in jail. I think that person who took your bike, Khufu, is the most horrible person who ever lived.” At this point her voice cracks, and Gavin thinks she might just cry as well. He swallows.
Richard looks over at Gavin, his eyes wide. He notices Carlos and Calvin looking over at him too.
Khufu sits down, and Ms. Shelby-Ortiz walks over to him and puts her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry that happened to you.
Khufu just stares straight ahead.
“What should we do?” Carlos says to Gavin at recess. Gavin’s friends have gathered at the four-square court, but nobody’s playing.
“We have to give it back,” Gavin says.
“But maybe it’s not Khufu’s bike,” Richard counters. “He could be telling a big story. You know how he lies.”
Gavin shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s telling a fib in this case.”
It isn’t until Gavin is walking to his mother’s car that he remembers he didn’t get Khufu’s number. In a way, he did that on purpose. Khufu would wonder why he wanted his telephone number, and what could Gavin say? That he’s the one who took Khufu’s bike, thinking it was his own?
“Did you get the number?�
� his mother asks.
“I forgot.”
“Have fun explaining that to your father.”
As soon as he gets home, Gavin goes directly to the toolshed. He pulls the bike out, stands it up, and studies it. He looks it over carefully. Could it have once been pink under that ugly orange? Could Khufu have just made up the whole thing about his father buying the used bike from a neighbor and that it was for his birthday?
Then he sees it. A small spot. A smudge, actually—where the orange paint looks thin.
He moves the bike so the spot is out in the sunlight. Pink. He sighs and feels his stomach drop. He stole Khufu’s bicycle. He has to give it back. And he needs to do it as soon as possible.
But how?
Richard’s coming over to play basketball later. Maybe he can go with him. After all, Richard kind of got him into this.
When Richard arrives, Gavin takes him around to the back of the toolshed to show him the spot where some of the pink color beneath the orange shows through. “Look,” he says, pointing to it.
“What?” says Richard, squinting.
“You don’t see the pink under the orange?”
Richard looks closer. “Maybe,” he says after a while.
“Admit it, Richard. It’s pink,” Gavin insists.
Richard looks again. “I guess.”
“We have to give it back.”
“When?” Richard asks.
“Let’s do it now. Wait for me out front. I have to get permission—and I have to get something.”
Ten
Khufu’s Dad
Gavin dashes inside to get permission from his mom and runs into his father coming through the front door.
“What’s the hurry?” his father asks.
“I forgot to get Khufu’s number, Dad. But I already know the orange bike is his.” Gavin sighs.
The New Kid Page 5