Upstander by James Preller (free ereaders .TXT) 📕

peeling off a splinter of wood. “Look, I know. It hasn’t been good. I screwed up. A lot. But I’m changing, Mary. This is my chance to start over.”

“I don’t have much,” Mary said.

“What about that birthday money from Grams?” Jonny ventured. There was urgency in his voice, new hope. “She gave you, like, two hundred dollars, right? Do you still have that?”

Mary was saving that money. She wanted to buy some things for herself. Maybe a denim jacket. More art supplies. More things.

Just things.

“Okay,” she relented. “But I need it back, every cent.”

Jonny’s eyes lit up. A smile wriggled across his face like a snake moving through the grass. “Oh man, that’s so awesome. Thank you, Mary, thank you, thanks a million,” he gushed. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“Sure,” she said. “I believe you.”

Because, really, what else was there to say?

19[bikes]

Griffin, Cody, and Mary raced their bikes along a network of dirt trails in the woods behind the middle school. Even under the relative cool of the shaded canopy, they dripped with sweat from their exertion. It was a scorching day, and not even noon yet. Over the years different bikers had built up hills and ramps, working on their own with shovels and muscle, to create a private paradise.

“I never knew this place existed,” Mary marveled, guzzling from her water bottle.

Cody was preparing to perform a dangerous stunt. Griff cupped his hands around his mouth, cheering him on. “All right, Cody! Go big or go home!”

Cody paused at the top of a medium incline, which led down to two ramps. A small one, which most everybody used, and a much larger one, reserved for maniacs and reckless daredevils. Cody pushed off on his right leg, rose up on both pedals, and fearlessly bombed down the hill at max speed. He hit the big ramp and flew, handlebars almost vertical over the seat. The back tire bounced heavily on the dirt and skidded; thrown off the bike, Cody rolled and tumbled with a meaty thud. The bike smacked into a thicket of underbrush. Mary stepped forward. “Oh my God.”

There was a pause, when every injury seemed possible—cracked ribs, a broken leg, a severed spine—and then Cody raised a hand, thumbs up, and laughed out loud.

“That was sick!” Griff enthused. “Cody, my man, you are a beast!”

Mary had been hanging out more with Griff this past week. Not every day, but regularly, if tentatively. She still wasn’t sold on him. He had an edge that was intriguing but also … off somehow. Still, he was the only person on the planet she could talk to about Jonny, and right now she needed that. Alexis and Chrissie were vacationing together on the Jersey Shore. Chrissie’s parents allowed her to invite one friend, once more making the hierarchy of middle school friendship an easy chart to read. It came in the shape of a pyramid—a three-dimensional triangle, known to math whizzes like Mary as a tetrahedron—and she was closer to the base than the apex. It bummed her out a little, to be left out. And with Chantel’s status unclear, Mary either kept to herself or joined Griff and his revolving galaxy of knuckleheads on their daily escapades. Mary wasn’t sure where she fit with Griff’s crowd, or even if she wanted to, but it was better than sitting home alone munching marshmallows and staring at the fish tank.

Speaking of knuckleheads, up rolled one of Mary’s least favorite people: Drew Peterson, a hulking, super-sketchy dude who fulfilled every caveman stereotype. Griff seemed to respect Drew for some reason, and in that trying-not-trying way of his, he schemed to earn Drew’s admiration.

“Droop,” Griff said in greeting.

And more melodically, “Droopy!” from Cody.

“Figured I might find you here,” Drew said. He climbed off his bike, holding a white plastic bag. “Man, it’s stupid hot! You guys seen Sinjay? I wouldn’t mind jumping in his pool.”

He gazed open-mouthed at Mary, who sat cross-legged on the ground in her shorts. No hello, just the look. Something about him made her skin crawl. He wasn’t the brightest bulb, either. Probably took too many shots to the helmet in Pop Warner football. Good nickname, though. Drew Peterson got shortened to Drew P., then Droopy or just Droop. The group dynamic tilted whenever he came around, and all of a sudden Mary wished she were anywhere else. Mathematically, Griff’s kindness to Mary was in inverse proportion to the number of people who were around. The more witnesses, the colder he got. The nice boy from the ice cream parlor was a million miles away. Where did he go? Mary wondered.

“Sweet bike,” Droopy noted. “New?”

Griff nodded, grinned.

“Dig the shocks,” Droopy said.

“Cody installed ’em for me. Changes the look, you know?” Griff said.

“I’d love a bike like that,” Droopy gushed. “If you ever see one that needs a home.”

Griff glanced at Mary. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Yep, yep,” Cody chirped.

Mary found that whole exchange suspicious. What was up with Griff and bicycles? He gave her one. How weird was that? Who gives bikes away?

“Hey, check this,” Droopy said. “I found all these ketchup packets behind McDonalds!” He opened the plastic bag to reveal dozens of individual ketchup packets.

“Okaaaaay,” Griff said.

“No, it’s hysterical. Watch this,” Droop said. He placed a packet on a flat rock and stomped on it with his foot. Splat, the ketchup squirted an impressive distance.

“Whoa,” Cody said, “let me try.”

So that’s what they did: splattered ketchup on the trees and bushes, leaving plastic wrappers all over the ground. Mary stretched, grumbled, checked her phone. Boredom in the suburbs was a terrible thing. It led to all kinds of idiocy. “I might head out,” she said.

The boys went with her, maybe just for something to do, feeling just as restless. They threaded a path behind the middle school to the football field and the track that surrounded it. “Hey, look,” Cody said. “There’s your buddy, Griff.”

He pointed to a lone figure shuffling along the track. He wore a