The Great Bike Rescue by Hazel Hutchins

Chapter One
    It only takes a minute for a great summer to turn into something else entirely.
    â€œLevi! Come outside—quick!”
    My friend Riley almost spilled his slushie rushing back into the corner store. His eyes were round. His face was flushed. He was in a panic. But it wasn’t the fear kind of panic. It was something else.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” I asked.
    I was still paying for my own slushie at the counter. And I wasn’t worried about Riley. Riley likes excitement. He even exaggerates things in order to have something to get excited about.
    â€œYour bike,” said Riley. “It’s gone!”
    The clerk leaned back, his eyes seeking a gap between the sea of ads and posters that were plastered across the full-length windows of the storefront. He squinted as he looked out at the sidewalk.
    â€œA lot of bikes have been lifted from out front lately,” he said.
    I had to think about what he meant by the word lifted . Lifted up? Lifted over? Suddenly I understood.
    â€œStolen? You mean someone stole my bike?” I asked.
    The clerk shrugged.
    â€œIt wouldn’t be the first time,” he said.
    I raced outside. My bike had been leaning against a narrow pillar between the front windows. It wasn’t there now. I could see it wasn’t there. Riley kept telling me, “See? It’s not there, it’s not anywhere.” But still, I kept right on looking.
    Two wheels. Knobby tires. Silver and black frame. My bike isn’t the newest bike in the world, or the fanciest bike in the world, but it’s a great bike. It’s my bike! I stared as hard as I could at the place it had been. I was trying to make my bike appear before me. Nope. Didn’t happen.
    Something inside me started going thump, thump, thump , and a weird kind of energy was taking over. Do something! Find your bike! I felt like I was running in circles even though I was hardly moving at all.
    I looked up and down Battersby Street. No bike.
    I looked in the hidden doorway, the locked one the store doesn’t use. No bike.
    I looked around the corner. No bike.
    I looked at Riley, hoping against hope.
    â€œDid you take it? Just to fool me?” I asked. “Please tell me you took it.”
    â€œNope. I didn’t take it,” said Riley. He shoved his slushie into my free hand and began to unlock his own bike from the light post.
    â€œI’ll check the alleys and the cross streets,” he said. “Super Riley to the rescue!”
    He took off around the corner, pedaling like crazy. I couldn’t just stand there! I raced inside and set both slushies on the counter.
    â€œI’ll be back,” I said.
    I was out of the store before the clerk could answer. I raced across Battersby and headed in the opposite direction from Riley.
    I went down the alley . Look for a thief on a bike. I ran again .
    Running didn’t feel nearly fast enough, but I kept running anyway. Riley would be able to circle around a bigger area, but at least I could cover some of it.
    I turned the corner . Look for my bike. I ran like crazy some more. Turned another corner . Run . I heard the squeak of bike brakes, and Riley pulled up beside me.
    â€œAny si…” I had to stop and gulp for air. “Any sign at all?”
    Riley shook his head. He’d been riding hard and needed a moment to catch his own breath.
    â€œNothing,” he said. “I looked everywhere. Whoever took it is long gone.”
    He swung off his bike and bumped it up onto the sidewalk. We walked back to the store together. Riley pushed his bike. I didn’t push mine.
    An entire ocean of feelings was washing over me. Disbelief. Outrage. Even a crazy kind of hope as we passed a lady walking a dog and asked if she’d seen a black and silver bike.
    Nope.
    And beneath it all, there was a familiar feeling. A rotten and familiar feeling. I’d had stuff stolen before. It was four years ago when I was just a