“Sorry I’m late, Dad,” said Max, skidding to a stop alongside his father’s parked car.
“What’s that?” His father was sitting in the car, windows rolled down, reading a thick hardcover book. Max saw a picture of a swirling galaxy on the front cover. “You’re late?” His father glanced at his wristwatch. “Oh yeah, I guess you are. Sorry, Maxwell, I got caught up in this book. It’s all about giant solar systems grinding through space and—”
“Dad, can a bike turn invisible?”
“What?”
“Turn invisible. Disappear. Vanish.”
“Are you asking me if it’s scientifically possible?”
“No, not scientific,” said Max. “I mean in real life. Because I saw it happen. What I mean is, I didn’t see it happen.”
“Didn’t see what, Max?”
“The bike vanish before my eyes.”
Mr. Martin closed his book and set it on his lap. “Okay, Max, give me the story. Twenty-five words or less.”
Max took a deep breath and told his father all about the mysterious vanishing bike. He described the bike’s weird tires, the skinny security guard, and the students walking on the River Bridge. He told how the bike disappeared between the eastern end of the bridge’s walkway and the western end.
“That was thirty-one words, Max.”
“And I almost collided with another kid on a scooter,” added Max.
“Almost?”
“Dad, if I’m traveling fast enough on my scooter,” said Max, “is it possible, I mean, scientifically possible, for me to slide through a wall? Without crashing?”
His father pinched his nose and looked thoughtful. “Well … maybe you could, if you were traveling at the speed of light.”
“Could I slide through another scooter?”
“Max, do you know how fast you’d have to be moving? One hundred eighty-six thousand miles per second!”
“So the answer is no, huh?” asked Max.
“You never told me what the thief on the so-called vanishing bike stole,” said Mr. Martin.
“Um, that lady’s purse, I guess,” said Max. “She never did say.” Max realized that the skinny guard hadn’t mentioned what the thief had stolen, either. The guard had asked questions only about the disappearing bike.
Mr. Martin started his car’s engine. “Maybe we’ll hear about it on the evening news,” he said. “Ready to race?”
“Yup,” said Max. He tightened his grip on the Hurricane’s handlebars.
Each day that his father taught at the Space Science Center, Max would meet him after class in the Center’s parking lot. Then they would race to see which vehicle would reach home first, the car or the scooter. Mr. Martin could obviously travel faster than Max, but only as fast as the speed limit allowed. He was also limited to streets. Max’s scooter could speed over sidewalks, alleys, and walkways. Since their house lay only five blocks away, Max felt it was a fair race. Especially since he and his scooter had already won twice that week.
Max’s favorite part of his route lay back on the River Bridge. Zooming along the wide sidewalk on the lower level, Max could watch the sunlight reflecting off the Mixaloopi, far below to his right. On his left side, trucks, SUVs, and motorcycles made a cool breeze that rippled against his arms and legs. The traffic thrummed like waves of water pounding on the Gulf’s beach.
As Max neared the entrance to the bridge, he glided by a bus stop full of students. He saw the teenage boy that the skinny guard had inter-viewed. It was easy to pick out the pink hair in a crowd. The boy was talking to his girl friend in the army pants. A second girl, struggling with a heavy backpack, stood next to them. That’s the girl from the bench, thought Max. They must be talking about the vanishing bike. All three of them were laughing, but as Max’s scooter rolled by, the pink-haired boy scowled at him.
What’s his problem? wondered Max. Maybe his nose stud is screwed too tight.
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
“It’s getting late,” said Miss Cruz. She balanced a towering stack of final-exam papers in her arms.
Lily and her mother had returned to the Bio Building. They met Miss Cruz on her way down the front steps.
“Sorry to trouble you, Miss Cruz,” said Sharon Blue.
“Then don’t,” said Miss Cruz. “I have a lot of work to do. Excuse me.”
Lily pulled out the typewritten card from her pocket. “Why would someone steal a skink, Miss Cruz?”
Miss Cruz stared suspiciously at Lily.
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Because that’s what was stolen, right?” said Lily. “It’s missing from its case upstairs in the auditorium.”
Miss Cruz dropped her exams like a load of old laundry. Sheets of paper spilled over the steps. The teacher spun on her heels and bolted inside the building. Lily and her mother exchanged a quick glance and then also ran inside. Miss Cruz was sprinting up the stairs toward the auditorium. By the time Lily and her mother reached the top step, they heard Miss Cruz’s cries echoing under the huge dome.
“This is terrible! Terrible!”
Sharon Blue was confused. “I thought you knew this happened. I saw the broken glass up here earlier and figured that’s why you were upset. Didn’t you tell the other guard about the theft?”
“My gradebook was stolen,” said Miss Cruz. “I didn’t know about this!” Her shoes crunched on the broken glass as she paced back and forth. “This is absolutely terrible. Now I have to call the dean.” She grabbed her ponytail in frustration, and Lily feared she was going to pull it out by its roots.
“When did the thief steal your gradebook?” asked Sharon Blue.
“When I yelled for help,” Miss Cruz said frantically. “It’s the guide for all my exams. Now I’ll have to spend hours figuring out students’ grades all over again.”
She explained to Lily and her mother that she had entered the Bio Building around two o’clock, her normal office hour. At the same time, Lily and her mother were on the upper floors, Lily remembered hearing the clock tower bong twice. Miss Cruz said she had come to pick up some exams that needed grading during the winter break. The students always dropped off their work using her office door’s mail slot. And while she was in her office gathering papers, Miss Cruz heard several strange bumps in the hall. She stepped out of her office and was almost run down by a strange bike.
“Whoever rode that bike stole the gradebook I was still carrying in my hand,” said Miss Cruz. “It happened so quickly, I didn’t get a look at the rider’s face.”
That’s when Miss Cruz ran outside, chasing the strange bike, and instead met Max Martin riding his silver Hurricane, and the other guard Lily’s mother had called on her radio.
“That’s when we left the building, too,” said Sharon.
“And saw Ice Boy,” said Lily.
“Ice Boy?” asked her mother.
“You know … Oscar,” said Lily. “That’s what the students call him.”
Miss Cruz examined the broken display cases. “Only the Monkey-Tail was taken. Strange. It’s not a very valuable creature. The Blue-Tongued Skink and the Soa-Soa are worth more.”
“Soa-Soa?” asked Lily.
“It’s a lizard about three feet long. We’re borrowing it from a zoo in Indonesia,” explained Miss Cruz. “They’re a threatened species.”
Lily noticed a black-and-yellow flutter from inside a nearby cage. “What’s a monarch butterfly doing in the exhibit?” asked Lily. “I didn’t think they protected themselves in any special way.”
Miss Cruz grinned. “It tricked you,” she said. “It’s not a monarch, it’s a viceroy butterfly. Monarch butterflies taste bitter to birds, but viceroys taste sweet. Over the years, the viceroys that looked more like monarchs were able to survive.”
“A clever disguise,” said Sharon Blue.
“A life-saving disguise,” added Miss Cruz. Lily realized that chameleons were not the only experts in camouflage. Blending in with your surroundings, like Speck, was one way to hide. But looking like something else, like the viceroy, was an even smarter trick.
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
“Why so late?” asked Oscar’s father as the boy parked his damaged scooter inside the store’s back door. Then Mr. Santiago noticed his son’s knee. “Are you all right?”
“Fine, Papi.” Oscar plopped down on a plastic carton. His father and two brothers, Ernesto and Carlos, stood glaring at him. They stood in front of a huge ROOBICK’S CUBES’ cooler. From where Oscar sat, all he could read between their angry faces and folded arms was ROB CUBS.
“There was a robbery,” said Oscar.
“Robbery!” His father’s jaw dropped. “You were robbed? Ernesto, Carlos! Run and get the police.”
“No, no, not me,” said Oscar. “Some teacher at the University. Here.” He handed his father the five-dollar bill and four quarters for the Riverside Dorm ice bags.
“But so late,” his father repeated.
“I … I was a witness,” said Oscar. He was afraid of saying too much. If he told his father that he had been mistaken for the thief himself, his father would grow angrier.
“Hey, muchacho, what happened to your wheels?” said Ernesto. Oscar’s older brother was examining the red scooter’s front tire.
“Uh, the construction,” said Oscar. “There’s dirt and sand and barriers all over the place.”
“See?” said his father. “Construction! What did I tell you?”
Ernesto knelt down by the Fireball, sitting back on his workboots. “Carlos,” he said. “Get my tools out of the back of the truck.”
Mr. Santiago took a step closer. “You think you can fix it?” he asked.
“Sí, Papi. Looks like a pin was knocked loose.”
“Thanks, Ernesto,” said Oscar.
“Don’t take all day,” ordered their father. “This is a grocery store, not a repair shop. We have work to do, customers to keep happy. Oscar, you have more deliveries. And I need you to be more careful. It’s eggs this time.”
“Huevos?” asked Oscar.
His father nodded. “Students asking for dozens and dozens of eggs. Not frozen pizzas, not frozen burritos. Eggs! I hope no one is getting their windows splattered by some wise guys tonight. Boys, let me know as soon as that bike is fixed.”
“Scooter,” corrected Oscar.
“Whatever,” said his father, throwing up his hands.
Ernesto tapped his finger against his new mustache. “It’s a good thing this is not a bike,” he said. “A bike’s wheels would have been more damaged. These little tires are metal.”
Carlos set down a toolbox next to the scooter.
“Sí,” Carlos agreed. “Your tire would be flat.”
Flat? Oscar saw the strange bike in his mind again. Those peculiar reddish wheels. Now he knew what they had reminded him of.