CHAPTER 37

PANCAKE STOOD ON THE FRONT PORCH, his cousin’s old laptop tucked under one arm. He scanned the street for Hudson. Had Maggie seen the posts? She’d be sick.

Hudson came around the corner, pedaling the last two blocks without sitting. He clamped on the brakes and fishtailed Blue Boy to a stop just feet from Pancake. “Let’s see it.”

Pancake sat on the steps, flipped open the lid, and touched the keyboard. “Sit down.” He held the laptop so both of them could read the exchange. “Read it out loud.”

Hudson sat on the top step next to him.

Maggie: What is it with the boys at Southfield? I wanted to try sexting with someone, but no guy will give me his number.

“Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me? That is so wrong. She would never do something like that.”

Pancake motioned to keep his voice down. “Finish reading.”

Hudson read again.

Wolfman: Finally you got the message. Stop asking for my phone number.

Skirt: You need help, Maggie. Seriously.

“They’re the ones who are going to need help,” Hudson said.

Pancake kept quiet. Watched Hudson’s face —which was already plenty red.

Alexa: Have you looked in a mirror? Who’d want pictures of you? You’re as ugly as those stupid red shoes you wear.

Zattora: They’re exaggerating, Maggie. Nobody could be as hideous as your shoes. Not even you.

Kat: You don’t need a makeover. You need a do-over. A whole new body. New face. Actually, you could use a totally new life.

Hudson shook his head. “This is so twisted.”

Twisted was the right word. Pancake wanted to wring their necks. Maggie didn’t deserve this.

Giovanna: Do you believe in reincarnation, Maggie? If you do, then I guess there’s hope. Maybe in the next life you’ll be a looker.

Kat: Then again, she could come back as a pig.

Alexa: That would be a huge improvement.

Giovanna: If I looked like you, Maggie, I’d kill myself and take my chances that I’d be prettier in the next life.

Kat: Kill yourself, Maggie . . . and you’ll make the world a more beautiful place!

“Get out. Seriously?” Hudson closed the laptop. He sat there in a kind of stunned silence.

Pancake pictured Maggie crying . . . or worse. “The posts are like something out of a horror movie, you know?”

“More like right out of hell. And if you ask me —” Hudson clenched his jaw like he was trying to keep from saying something more.

Pancake said, “These posts will cut deep.”

Hudson nodded. He leaned against the railing, staring at nothing as far as Pancake could tell. Hudson seemed like a processor, and if that was true, he needed time to sort things out. “Did I do this?”

Pancake shook his head. “That’s loco talk.”

“I —or Robin Hood —insulted them. Made them look bad. I thought they’d back off.” Hudson squeezed his eyes shut. “I created change all right. But not for the better. Poor Maggie.”

“Look,” Pancake said. “Don’t pin this on yourself. They typed those toxic things, not you. You tried to help —and they just upped the nasty factor. That’s what people who bully do.”

Hudson nodded like he agreed, but Pancake wasn’t sure Hudson felt any better.

“How ’bout I grab my bike,” Pancake said. “Let’s go for a ride, and figure out what we do next.”

Hudson nodded, walked over to his bike, and straddled it.

Pancake set the laptop inside the house, ran around to the backyard, and was back in sixty seconds with his bike.

Hudson looked lost in thought.

They rode side by side down the middle of the street. Through Kimball Hill Park. Pancake resisted the urge to break the silence —even though he was dying to know what Hudson was thinking.

The temperature was dropping. The night air had a bite to it. It felt good on his cheeks. He let Hudson take lead.

Hudson took the bike path that tunneled under Kirchoff Road and looped toward Frank ’n Stein’s Diner. “Hungry?”

“Always.” Pancake followed Hudson into the parking lot.

Minutes later they each held a Monster shake. They sat on the concrete curb taking long drags on the straws.

“So,” Pancake said, “what are we going to do?”

Hudson gave him a sideways glance. “We?”

“Unless it’s really loco. Then you’re on your own, amigo.”

Hudson finally cracked a smile, which quickly disappeared. “I think we need to step it up.”

Pancake drew in a cool mouthful of his shake. “Talk to me.”

Hudson popped off the lid and stirred his shake with his straw. “I’m going to push for that website to get boarded up. They’ve gone too far.” Hudson took a sip from his straw. “But first Robin Hood needs to rant a little. I’m going to nail them to the wall.”

Pancake wasn’t so sure Robin Hood venting would really create positive change. “When does it end?”

“When they stop doing this to Maggie,” Hudson said. “And if the posts tonight don’t stop them, I’m going to embarrass them. Publicly.”

“Publicly?”

Hudson nodded. “People need to see them for the morons they are.”

“You’re going to use the ambush film?”

Hudson shook his head. “Not yet. First we try something that they can’t trace back to us.”

“Using Robin Hood?”

Hudson nodded. “He’s going to do more than post online. He’s going to make some visits to the house of every bozo on our blacklist.”

Pancake felt something, like a blood rush in his head. “Got a plan?”

“More of a sketch. I’m calling it Operation Bumper Billboard. We’ll print giant labels —like bumper stickers —and plaster them on their parents’ cars.”

“And the stickers would say . . .”

“Something about them being the proud parent of a bully.”

Pancake snickered. “I’m up for that.”

“Maybe this weekend. I need to think on it more.”

Pancake didn’t want to push things. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t start prepping a little. Like getting the addresses of everyone on the list —and mapping out a route.

“If I wanted to buy a can of spray paint, where would I go?”

Pancake eyed him. “Sherwin Ace Hardware. They’ve got tons of it.”

“Is it close enough to bike there?”

“It’s right over on Wilke and Campbell. If we push we can be there in way less than ten minutes.”

Hudson stood. “Let’s do it.”

“Tell me you’re not going to graffiti their homes.”

Hudson laughed. “No graffiti. But we are going to send a message.”