Dangerous Boy by Mandy Hubbard

steel and motor roll over top of me, the air in my lungs smashing right out. My shoulder screams in pain as the bike completes its course, landing next to me on its side. My left foot is twisted, stuck under the foot peg.
     
    I gasp for air. My lungs burn, refusing to expand. I try to sit up, get my foot out from under the bike, but my right shoulder throbs with pain.
     
    I lie there for what seems like hours, gasping, until footsteps sound near me. “Harper!”
     
    I look up as Logan drops to his knees next to me. “Are you okay?”
     
    I can’t breathe well enough to speak, so I just nod. The grass is cold, tickling the skin on my neck that’s not covered by the helmet.
     
    Logan looks me up and down, realizes the bike is still resting on my foot, and stands up, trying to shove it.
     
    Another engine roars, loud, and then Bick’s there too, jumping off his quad, running to mine to help Logan roll it off my foot.
     
    “What the hell happened?” Bick asks, crouching down. He goes to touch me, but stops himself, as if not sure he won’t break me.
     
    I manage a weak smile. “I don’t know,” I say, wheezing. “One minute I was riding and then the next it just went down.”
     
    “The wheel came off,” Logan says, dropping down on my other side. “Can we help you up? Can you walk?”
     
    I look over at the quad. It sits crookedly, leaning forward at a funny angle.
     
    “What do you mean, the wheel came off?” I sit up, gasping at the pain that tears down my arm. “Owwwwww. I think I broke something,” I say, through clenched teeth.
     
    Logan loops his arm around my waist, pulls me to my feet.“The wheel,” he says, pointing. It’s rolled all the way to the fence line, where it leans against the barbwire.
     
    “I don’t get it,” I say, dizzy now, either from the pain or the loss of oxygen or both. I can’t seem to grasp the theory of a wheel flying off on its own.
     
    “I don’t either,” says Bick, shaking his head. The expression on his face has me worried that my condition is even worse than it seems.
     
    “Come on, let’s get you in,” Logan says, scooping me up, cradling me in his arms like a baby.
     
    “I’m not an invalid,” I protest, as the world spins and tilts on end.
     
    “No, you’re hurt. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
     
    I lean my temple against Logan’s chest and close my eyes as he carries me across the wide field, bigger than three football fields. Every step he takes jars my shoulder, and the pain comes off me in waves. Behind us, Bick’s quad roars to life again, and then he’s gliding along beside us, his helmet left behind somewhere.
     
    Footsteps sound out, and I open my eyes to see Adam and Allie jogging over to us.
     
    “Oh my God, are you okay?” Allie asks, her face flushed.
     
    “I should call your dad,” Adam says, flipping his phone open.
     
    “He won’t answer,” I say.
     
    “I know, but I’ll leave him a message and then me and Allie can go to your house and tell him what happened.”
     
    “That’s a good idea,” says Logan, his voice deep and rumbly,with my ear resting on his shoulder like it is. “Tell him to meet us at the hospital.”
     
    “Sure.” Adam nods, then turns away as he starts talking into the phone.
     
    I’m right: it’s an answering machine.
     
    Bick jumps off his quad, then jogs across the driveway as Logan carries me across the gravel. Bick opens the door to the Jeep and holds it as Logan sets me gently down inside. “Do you need me to do anything?” Bick asks, standing anxiously to the side.
     
    I open my mouth to speak, but Logan beats me to it. “No, just go take care of your bikes. We’ll call you as soon as we know if anything’s broken,” Logan says, his voice authoritative, in control. It calms me, somehow. I relax into the seat as Logan buckles my seatbelt.
     
    I close my eyes and rest my head against the seatback. “I’m okay,” I mumble, hoping to reassure Bick. Behind