studiously examined the field, the horizon, then turned his head slowly and grinned mirthlessly at Keith. “You gotta go to Winterrest and bring back something that proves you were there. And you gotta go alone. And you gotta go now.”
Dirk clapped his hands, Ian followed though doubtfully, and Keith knew he was trapped. When he didn’t respond right away, Dirk said, “Cluck,” and Ian yelped, “Cluck-cluck,” and he glared at Artie, sending him a clear warning that as soon as this was over he was going to pay, and pay good.
Artie only smiled. “Cluck,” he said. “We’ll be waiting.”
Keith squared his shoulders and mounted his ten-speed. He rode off with the guys cheering behind him, but he didn’t look back. Winterrest was off limits, and Winterrest was spooky, and if he ever got out of this alive he was going to kick somebody’s ass all the way to the ocean.
He didn’t stop until he had reached Meadow View’s pillars on the highway.
There was no traffic.
The sun was nearing the horizon.
His foot tapped nervously against the pedal, and he held onto the pillar to keep his balance on the bike. On his left shoulder a miniature version of himself paced up and down, demanding that he either get on with it, or go back and admit that he was really pissant chickenshit, just like Artie said. In any case, he had better not be caught here on his own or his mother would kill him.
“It’s scary,” he whispered as a painted van shot past.
Little keith strutted up and down his shoulder, snapping his fingers impatiently.
“Scary.”
‘course it is, stupid, that’s half the fun
A glance over his shoulder. That dumb German shepherd in the ranch house was barking at a crow picking at garbage on the curb, and someone hit a softball a good half a mile from the sound of the crack and the shouts of the players.
“It’s empty,” he said, stroking the shoulder.
that’s right
“Nobody can chase me off.”
right
He could be there in ten minutes, take a look around, come back before they knew it. He would bring the guys what they wanted and they’d never challenge him again.
right again
He smiled, looked around and saw nobody watching.
cluck, cluck, keith, you’re gonna lay an egg
“Shut up,” he muttered, pushed off the pillar, and rode north, his legs pumping as fast as they could, his body leaning over the handlebars as his eyes squinted in the wind. The little keith on his shoulder vanished the moment he began to move, but he didn’t need his buddy now because now he was flying—past the traffic light with a guilty look to his right down Deerford Road to be sure there was no one there who could recognize him and tell his mother, seeing Piper Cleary on the side of the road and praying the old hound dog man hadn’t seen who it was; past Sitter McMahon who snapped out his arm and smiled, while Keith flashed him a grin and hoped he was as crazy as all the kids said he was. If he was, Keith was safe, because his mother would never believe a crazy man who said he’d seen her son, just flying and flying down the road to Winterrest.
Past Hollow Lane, where Mr. Muir lived, a very weird man who hardly ever showed himself in town, and according to Heather built houses made of glass for rich people and crooks who paid him in diamonds.
One of these days he’d go down to the Hollow and see what his place was like. Mr. Muir had a horse that Heather went to see every time she got the chance, but the only other thing that he really knew about him beside the fact that he was an okay guy was that whenever he was walking with his mother in town, and Mr. Muir came by, his mother would grab his hand and nearly squeeze the bones out.
His mother, he thought as he checked the road and crossed it in a blur, was going to marry again. He knew that and wasn’t sure what he thought about it. But his mother better ask him first, or there was gonna be trouble.
The trees ended then and the stone wall began, and he
Dirk clapped his hands, Ian followed though doubtfully, and Keith knew he was trapped. When he didn’t respond right away, Dirk said, “Cluck,” and Ian yelped, “Cluck-cluck,” and he glared at Artie, sending him a clear warning that as soon as this was over he was going to pay, and pay good.
Artie only smiled. “Cluck,” he said. “We’ll be waiting.”
Keith squared his shoulders and mounted his ten-speed. He rode off with the guys cheering behind him, but he didn’t look back. Winterrest was off limits, and Winterrest was spooky, and if he ever got out of this alive he was going to kick somebody’s ass all the way to the ocean.
He didn’t stop until he had reached Meadow View’s pillars on the highway.
There was no traffic.
The sun was nearing the horizon.
His foot tapped nervously against the pedal, and he held onto the pillar to keep his balance on the bike. On his left shoulder a miniature version of himself paced up and down, demanding that he either get on with it, or go back and admit that he was really pissant chickenshit, just like Artie said. In any case, he had better not be caught here on his own or his mother would kill him.
“It’s scary,” he whispered as a painted van shot past.
Little keith strutted up and down his shoulder, snapping his fingers impatiently.
“Scary.”
‘course it is, stupid, that’s half the fun
A glance over his shoulder. That dumb German shepherd in the ranch house was barking at a crow picking at garbage on the curb, and someone hit a softball a good half a mile from the sound of the crack and the shouts of the players.
“It’s empty,” he said, stroking the shoulder.
that’s right
“Nobody can chase me off.”
right
He could be there in ten minutes, take a look around, come back before they knew it. He would bring the guys what they wanted and they’d never challenge him again.
right again
He smiled, looked around and saw nobody watching.
cluck, cluck, keith, you’re gonna lay an egg
“Shut up,” he muttered, pushed off the pillar, and rode north, his legs pumping as fast as they could, his body leaning over the handlebars as his eyes squinted in the wind. The little keith on his shoulder vanished the moment he began to move, but he didn’t need his buddy now because now he was flying—past the traffic light with a guilty look to his right down Deerford Road to be sure there was no one there who could recognize him and tell his mother, seeing Piper Cleary on the side of the road and praying the old hound dog man hadn’t seen who it was; past Sitter McMahon who snapped out his arm and smiled, while Keith flashed him a grin and hoped he was as crazy as all the kids said he was. If he was, Keith was safe, because his mother would never believe a crazy man who said he’d seen her son, just flying and flying down the road to Winterrest.
Past Hollow Lane, where Mr. Muir lived, a very weird man who hardly ever showed himself in town, and according to Heather built houses made of glass for rich people and crooks who paid him in diamonds.
One of these days he’d go down to the Hollow and see what his place was like. Mr. Muir had a horse that Heather went to see every time she got the chance, but the only other thing that he really knew about him beside the fact that he was an okay guy was that whenever he was walking with his mother in town, and Mr. Muir came by, his mother would grab his hand and nearly squeeze the bones out.
His mother, he thought as he checked the road and crossed it in a blur, was going to marry again. He knew that and wasn’t sure what he thought about it. But his mother better ask him first, or there was gonna be trouble.
The trees ended then and the stone wall began, and he
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