CHAPTER 22

HUDSON SQUATTED DOWN next to Blue Boy and inspected the damage. The cuts on the sidewalls of both tires were clean, the work of a razor knife. Too long to be patched. Terrific. He dialed in the combination, removed the lock, and fished the cable through the spokes.

“Did you see who did this?” Pancake asked.

Hudson shook his head. But it wasn’t hard to guess who the slasher was.

“Now what?” Pancake looked over his shoulder like he figured Wolfe or Zattora might be watching.

They probably were. Hudson wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of looking all busted up over this. “Guess I’m walking Blue Boy home.”

“Blue Boy?” Pancake whipped his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the apps. “You named your bike?”

Yeah, he named his bike. “Are you filming this?”

He shrugged. “More of a video journal. I try to shoot something every day. I post a lot on YouTube.” Pancake brought the camera in for close-ups on the slashed tires.

“You’re not planning on posting this, are you?”

Pancake shook his head. “Documenting the evidence, that’s all.”

Neither of them said a word until they were off school property. While Hudson walked, Pancake straddled his bike, pushing himself along with his feet. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Hudson glanced at the school and then back at his bike. “Nothing.” As bad as the damage was, it was still a pretty lame counterattack. He walked a little faster.

Pancake matched his speed. “You can’t let them get away with it.”

He was right. Hudson should hit back. Hit first. Hit hard. But what did that even look like? And that only applied when somebody was physically in front of him, right? A bus passed. Were the kids inside laughing at him?

“Hudson?”

The bus turned and lumbered out of sight. “I’ll think of something.” He had to.

Pancake nodded. “Whatever it is —I’m in.”

Hudson glanced his way. Pancake was serious. But just the two of them —against how many? They wouldn’t have a chance. If he was going to succeed with the Creating Change project, he’d have to strike back without them being sure who was behind it.

They turned the corner and the school dropped out of sight. Hudson wished it would disappear for good.

“Most of the guys at Wolfe’s table bike to school,” Pancake said. “We could bring an extra combination lock. Add it to theirs.”

Hudson laughed. “So they’ll be stuck at school, eh?”

“It’d be like giving them a detention.”

“I like it.”

Pancake grinned. But the grin disappeared and his eyes grew wide. “Amigo!”

Hudson followed his gaze —and froze. Wolfe. Zattora. Skirt —all on bikes and bearing down hard —less than a block ahead. Three —make that four —others pouring out on foot from behind nearby parked cars.

Pop quiz. Fill in the blank. You’re outnumbered and about to get whaled on. The smart thing to do is _____________.

Run. Run. Every survival instinct told him that was the answer.

But that would show fear, and with his flat tires he couldn’t outrun the bikes anyway. If he ditched Blue Boy and tried to get away on foot, he’d be no match for them on bikes. They’d catch him, and he’d only be out of breath when they did. Slashing the tires wasn’t their get-even plan —it was all about slowing him down. To make sure he was on foot. The ambush was the real payback. Hudson planted his feet. Stay and fight. Stay.

“What do we do?” Pancake pulled out his phone. “9-1-1?”

Hudson pointed to the closest house, fifty feet away. “An adult will scare them away faster. Ring the bell.”

“And leave you?”

“Go. We need help. Hurry!”

Pancake dropped his bike. Took off like a fullback.

Fight, Hudson. Fight. What did he even know about fighting? God, help me.