Morten ’ s going with us. Why would you change your mind? ”
“ I know all that, ” Henrik finally answered, “ and it ’ s not that I don ’ t want to go. ”
“ What then? First you say —”
“ I want to go on this bike trip, okay? I just don ’ t want to get to where we ’ d be going. ”
“ Oh, is that all? You ’ re going to love my cousins ’ farm. They have sheep, and there ’ s a place to swim, and everything. It ’ s great. ”
“ That ’ s not what I mean. ”
Peter thought for a minute. “ You ’ re talking about Palestine again, right? ”
Henrik nodded as they made a left turn into another tiny street. “ I ’ ve been thinking about how we could work things out. Maybe my mother could go by herself. ”
Henrik paused, and Peter wondered if he was asking a question or just thinking aloud.
“ No matter what happens, ” Henrik continued, “ promise you ’ ll help me stay, okay, Peter? ”
Now Peter really didn ’ t know what to say. Could Henrik really stay behind in Denmark?
“ You ’ ll help me? ” repeated Henrik, crossing over to the left side of the little alley.
From behind them, Peter could hear a grinding of gears and a car or truck speeding their way. He glanced over his shoulder to see what looked like a small black English sedan, going much faster than it should have been. And for an instant, something about the driver made Peter gasp. He had seen that face before.
Peter swerved into a shallow doorway just as the car screamed past.
“ Henrik! ” Peter yelled, but it was too late. The car swerved over to the left side of the lane, and it might have missed Henrik if the driver hadn ’ t popped open his door at the last moment.
The door caught Henrik ’ s rear fender like a bat hitting a ball, sending Henrik and his wheels sailing. Peter thought he heard the sound of laughing above the sickening crash of metal and Henrik ’ s frightened cry. Almost before Henrik landed in a heap on the sidewalk, the car had disappeared down the alley in a cloud of blue smoke.
“ Henrik! ” Peter let his bicycle fall and sprinted over to the pile of twisted wheels and metal that surrounded his friend. He had the feeling that he had just seen something like this, then he remembered how his grandfather had been pushed down in almost the same way. Henrik sat up as Peter reached him.
“ Who hit me? ” he asked, his eyes wide with surprise. Peter looked him over. The bicycle looked more like a pretzel than something to ride, and Henrik wore it around his waist like a tuba player in a marching band. But Henrik, incredibly, was left only scratched and bruised.
“ Are you all right? ” someone asked. Peter turned to see an older couple hurrying toward them. Another woman pushed open a second - story window just above them, but no one else seemed to be on the street just then.
Henrik, his eyes still wide, nodded and tried to stand up, but he fell on top of his bicycle.
“ Careful, Henrik, ” Peter warned. He and the older man helped Henrik untangle himself and get to his feet, while Henrik stared at the cloud of car smoke still floating slowly into the summer evening. Peter could almost hear the echo of the car door thumping Henrik from behind.
“ The driver was aiming for me, right? ” Henrik whispered.
Peter knew the answer, but he couldn ’ t get it out. He replayed the scene in
“ I know all that, ” Henrik finally answered, “ and it ’ s not that I don ’ t want to go. ”
“ What then? First you say —”
“ I want to go on this bike trip, okay? I just don ’ t want to get to where we ’ d be going. ”
“ Oh, is that all? You ’ re going to love my cousins ’ farm. They have sheep, and there ’ s a place to swim, and everything. It ’ s great. ”
“ That ’ s not what I mean. ”
Peter thought for a minute. “ You ’ re talking about Palestine again, right? ”
Henrik nodded as they made a left turn into another tiny street. “ I ’ ve been thinking about how we could work things out. Maybe my mother could go by herself. ”
Henrik paused, and Peter wondered if he was asking a question or just thinking aloud.
“ No matter what happens, ” Henrik continued, “ promise you ’ ll help me stay, okay, Peter? ”
Now Peter really didn ’ t know what to say. Could Henrik really stay behind in Denmark?
“ You ’ ll help me? ” repeated Henrik, crossing over to the left side of the little alley.
From behind them, Peter could hear a grinding of gears and a car or truck speeding their way. He glanced over his shoulder to see what looked like a small black English sedan, going much faster than it should have been. And for an instant, something about the driver made Peter gasp. He had seen that face before.
Peter swerved into a shallow doorway just as the car screamed past.
“ Henrik! ” Peter yelled, but it was too late. The car swerved over to the left side of the lane, and it might have missed Henrik if the driver hadn ’ t popped open his door at the last moment.
The door caught Henrik ’ s rear fender like a bat hitting a ball, sending Henrik and his wheels sailing. Peter thought he heard the sound of laughing above the sickening crash of metal and Henrik ’ s frightened cry. Almost before Henrik landed in a heap on the sidewalk, the car had disappeared down the alley in a cloud of blue smoke.
“ Henrik! ” Peter let his bicycle fall and sprinted over to the pile of twisted wheels and metal that surrounded his friend. He had the feeling that he had just seen something like this, then he remembered how his grandfather had been pushed down in almost the same way. Henrik sat up as Peter reached him.
“ Who hit me? ” he asked, his eyes wide with surprise. Peter looked him over. The bicycle looked more like a pretzel than something to ride, and Henrik wore it around his waist like a tuba player in a marching band. But Henrik, incredibly, was left only scratched and bruised.
“ Are you all right? ” someone asked. Peter turned to see an older couple hurrying toward them. Another woman pushed open a second - story window just above them, but no one else seemed to be on the street just then.
Henrik, his eyes still wide, nodded and tried to stand up, but he fell on top of his bicycle.
“ Careful, Henrik, ” Peter warned. He and the older man helped Henrik untangle himself and get to his feet, while Henrik stared at the cloud of car smoke still floating slowly into the summer evening. Peter could almost hear the echo of the car door thumping Henrik from behind.
“ The driver was aiming for me, right? ” Henrik whispered.
Peter knew the answer, but he couldn ’ t get it out. He replayed the scene in
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