“WANT TO RIDE BIKES?” HARPER ASKED, DRAGGING THE TIPS OF HER sneakers in the sand under the swing. She and Rudy had already played hopscotch, which, as usual, Rudy had won.
“Sure,” Rudy said, hopping off. “You can ride my bike. I’ll ride Joe’s—all he does is play stupid video games anyway.”
Harper dropped off her swing and tripped after her. “I can ride Joe’s. You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind,” Rudy said, moving several lawn chairs and tugging a rolled-up hose from under the makeshift storage area her mom had made—using a length of perforated green aluminum for a roof—between the low brick buildings.
Harper watched Rudy struggling to free her brother’s bike and realized it was caught on a rake. “Let me help.”
“No,” Rudy said, tugging harder. “You’re supposed to take it easy, remember?”
“I’m fine,” Harper insisted, reaching down to pull the rake’s tines out of the wheel’s spokes.
“Hold on,” she instructed, slipping her hand between the spokes.
Rudy waited as Harper untangled the long metal tines.
“Okay,” Harper said, holding the rake to one side.
Rudy pulled back on the bike. “Thanks!” she exclaimed breathlessly.
Harper grinned. “That’s what friends are for.”
Rudy hopped on her brother’s bike and rolled toward the parking lot. “Want to ride to the big playground?”
“Sure.” Harper climbed onto Rudy’s bike, knowing she meant the playground down the street. “Shouldn’t we tell your mom?”
“She’s not back from the store.”
“Should we tell Frank?” Harper asked, pushing down on her pedal.
“He’ll just say no,” Rudy said, bumping off the curb. “Besides, we’ll be right back.”
Harper shrugged and bumped off the curb, too.
They rode through the parking lot and saw a man helping his daughter get into her car seat. “Hi, Mr. Jefferson,” Rudy called, waving.
The man looked up and waved back. “Hi, Rudy!”
Harper pulled alongside her. “Do you ever hear from your dad?”
“No,” Rudy said, shaking her head. “My mom said he moved to California.”
“That stinks.”
“He doesn’t care about us, so it doesn’t matter,” Rudy said indifferently as she pedaled slowly down the street. “Do you remember your mom?”
Harper reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes. “Not really. I have a picture of her in my backpack, though.”
“How come you never showed me?”
Harper shrugged and turned onto the street behind Rudy. “It’s wrinkled, so it’s hard to tell what she really looked like. She was pretty, though—she had long brown hair.”
“You’re such a good artist, you should draw her while you can still make out the picture. Then you won’t forget what she looked like.”
“I don’t have anything to draw with.”
“I do! I got a sketch pad and pencils for Christmas, but I can’t draw worth a hill o’ beans. You can use them. In fact, you can have ’em.”
“Okay,” Harper said thoughtfully. “Thanks!”
“I wonder,” Rudy mused. “If your mom had brown hair . . . maybe your dad had red hair?”
“Maybe. I wish I knew who he was,” she added wistfully.
“Does he know about you?”
“I don’t know. I asked your mom, but she said they have no record of him.”
“I bet if he knew about you, he’d come and get you.”
“Maybe,” Harper said doubtfully. They rode slowly past a man blowing leaves into the street and shielded themselves from the swirl of scarlet and gold projectiles. “What an idiot,” Harper muttered. “Doesn’t he know the leaves are just gonna blow back into his yard? He needs to bag ’em!” She turned around to look back and saw a car careening around the corner. “Rudy, look out!” she shouted, but Rudy had swerved out into the street to avoid the storm of leaves. “Rudy, look out!” she shouted again.
Rudy turned to see what she was shouting about and, at the very last second, saw the car barreling toward them. Her eyes grew wide in alarm as she instinctively veered away but hit the curb and fell in the opposite direction—right in the path of the car! Harper pedaled harder and skidded to a stop right in front of Rudy and started waving her arms frantically. At the very last second, the driver—a kid wearing a crooked baseball hat—laid on his horn and swerved away, shouting profanities through the open passenger window.
“Watch where you’re going!” Rudy yelled back, her heart pounding.
The boy gave her the finger, and tears sprang to Rudy’s eyes.
“Jerk!” she called after him.
“You okay?” Harper asked, hopping off her bike to help her up.
“Yeah,” Rudy said, gripping her handlebars to keep her hands from shaking.
“What an a-hole,” Harper seethed. “He didn’t even slow down.”
“He should be arrested and thrown in jail.”
“Yeah—they should throw away the key!”
“Yeah,” Rudy agreed. She looked up and smiled weakly at Harper. “Thanks for saving me.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did—he would’ve hit you before he hit me.”
“No, he wouldn’t’ve.”
Rudy looked back up the street. “Do you still want to go to the playground?”
“Not really. You?”
“Not really,” Rudy said, picking up her bike.
“I feel a little tired anyway.” They started walking back, rolling their bikes through the swirl of blowing leaves, and when Harper slowed down to catch her breath, she realized the man still didn’t see them.
“That leaf blower is so freakin’ loud, you can’t hear cars, never mind see them through all these leaves,” Harper said.
Rudy nodded.
Harper looked over. “You really okay?”
“Yeah.” She hesitated, wondering if she should ask her friend such a question. “Harp, are you . . . are you scared of dying?”
Harper kicked through the leaves. “I was scared when I was in the hospital, but your mom came in and said I wasn’t going to die, and she made me promise not to worry.” She paused and looked over. “Are you?”
Rudy’s eyes glistened and she nodded. “Especially at night. Some nights, it’s all I can think about, and then I’m afraid to fall asleep because I’m afraid I won’t wake up. I know we go to heaven, but I just can’t imagine being without my mom—that’s what scares me most. I’d miss her so much . . . and I know she’d miss me.”
Harper nodded but didn’t say anything. The only people on earth who would miss her if she died were Rudy and Cora, and maybe Frank and Joe. No one else on the whole earth even knew she was alive, so they certainly wouldn’t notice if she died. “I don’t think either of us are gonna die, Rudy. Your mom says I’m too stubborn, and I’m sure she’d say the same thing about you,” Harper teased reassuringly.
Rudy laughed. “You are pretty stubborn.”
They turned into the driveway of the apartments, and Harper looked over at the end unit. The curtains were drawn tight, and the yard was empty and overgrown. “Does anyone live there?”
“Mr. Peterson used to live there. He was really nice. His cat was McMuffin’s brother. We got them from Janelle when her cat had kittens, and after he learned we named ours McMuffin, he named his Big Mac.”
“No way!” Harper said, laughing.
“Way! And he had a dog with . . .”
Just then, Cora pulled into the parking lot and stopped next to them. “Where are you two comin’ from?”
“Nowhere,” Rudy answered. “We been here.”
“Where are your bike helmets? You know you’re not supposed to ride without helmets.”
“Do we look like we’re riding?” Rudy asked.
“Don’t be fresh with me, Rudy, or you really won’t be riding.”
“I told you my helmet’s too small, and I don’t know where Joe’s is.”
“You did not tell me your helmet is too small.”
“I did so!”
Cora shook her head and rolled forward. “Come an’ help me with the groceries,” she called.
“We’re comin’,” Rudy said, pushing her bike forward.
“So, what happened to Mr. Peterson?”
“He died,” Rudy said matter-of-factly, “and now his place just sits empty.”
“How come no one buys it?”
Rudy shrugged. “I don’t know. His family owns it. Mom was going to offer to take Big Mac, but his family took his pets to a shelter.”
Harper nodded, glancing back at the abandoned apartment. “You want to play Clue?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Sure,” Rudy agreed, nodding.
“At least we know we won’t die by candlestick, knife, revolver, lead pipe, or rope,” Harper said, laughing.
“Ha! You never know,” Rudy replied.
Harper kicked through a pile of leaves and imagined the gruesome wounds the weapons from Clue would inflict. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”