CHAPTER 83

AS MUCH AS HUDSON WANTED TO STAY, he knew it was time to go. Had Mrs. Jackson opened her email yet?

He eyed the police. They weren’t looking at the sign anymore. They were focused on the people gathered around. People all over were staring at their phones, watching Pancake’s YouTube post. What if someone recognized Hudson? The sense that they should leave was getting way stronger. “We’re outta here.”

He led the way through the gawkers and across the street. Suddenly Pancake seemed as anxious to leave as Hudson —which only fueled Hudson on more. A white Honda CRV locked its brakes just as Hudson reached for his bike. His heart slammed into his chest.

Thirty feet away, the car skidded to a halt —right there on Kirchoff Road. Remnants of black and yellow stickers clung to the back bumper —the ones from Hudson’s printer. The hazards flashed on, the door flew open, and a woman boiled out. Black leather jacket. Jeans. Heels the height of Hudson’s kickstand —but she could move in them.

Pancake grabbed Hudson’s arm. “Holy Buckets, that’s Mrs. Pappas, Giovanna’s mom!” He fumbled for his phone and started filming.

Mrs. Pappas stormed across the street, screaming obscenities, sounding kinda smashed. Something in her hand —a wine bottle?

Hudson stared in disbelief. “Uh-oh. What are you doing, lady?”

Police ran to intercept her, and news crews swung their cameras in her direction.

“I’ll sue! Get my girl’s name off that sign!” Giovanna’s mom heaved the bottle at the sign. Missed. “She’s no bully. Do you hear me?”

Everybody in a six-block radius probably heard her. And the news networks would be doing a lot of bleeping. But their story was getting better —and they were clearly loving it.

A police officer approached her with both hands out in front of him, palms facing her in a totally nonaggressive stance. Smart.

She chest-shoved him and pushed past. Not smart.

The boys in blue blitzed her. Like a peewee running back up against an all-star college team, they stopped her forward momentum instantly.

Giovanna’s mom kicked, clawed, and bit. “I’m calling my lawyer!”

Pancake stopped filming. “And she’s going to need one.”

The snowball they’d started was a full-fledged avalanche now. They just had to stay out of the way. Hudson straddled his bike and pushed off. “Let’s fly.” He pushed Blue Boy hard.

Pancake kept pace right behind him. “I . . . am . . . flying . . . high!”

Hudson didn’t answer. A sense that something was off with their little flight plan gnawed at him. But he should be happy, right? He was getting everything he wanted —or was he?

The look on Mrs. Pappas’ face bothered him. The anger. Humiliation. But there was something more. Desperation. Agony. And the film crews caught everything.

“What do you think Giovanna will do when she sees her mom on TV —or hears comments from other kids who did?” The whispers behind her back. The laughing.

“Who cares?” Pancake said. “She’s only getting what she deserves.”

Was she? Hudson crossed Meadow Drive at the light by Taco Bell and banked hard.

Or was Maggie right? Was Hudson crossing the line? Bullies attacked the weak. Ones who didn’t have the tools to fight back. Had he just done that?

Pancake pulled up alongside him. “That was out of this world.”

“Get your head out of the clouds. This isn’t over yet.”

Pancake laughed.

Oh yeah, Pancake was in orbit. Maybe they both were. But they’d have to come back down to earth, and with every crank of the pedals, that moment was coming sooner. Being in orbit wasn’t the problem. The heat they’d face in reentry was what had him sweating.