She looks up at me. There are things you don't know, Eli. Things they've done. Bad things. According to Harrove, yes.
I think about Patch's story, about the respect in his voice when he talked about Hawk. Maybe Harrove is lying. I suggest. Mom shrugs. Maybe.
Or maybe the club is showing us what they want us to see. I don't know how to argue with that. I'm 11. What do I know about biker gangs and their secrets? But I know how they make me feel.
Safe, valued, seen. I'm going to bed, I say. Mom nods. Good night, sweetie. I love you.
Love you, too. In my room, I take out Mama Carter's cookies. Chocolate chip still warm. I eat one slowly, savoring it. From my window, I see a motorcycle parked across the street, standing guard, just like before.
I wave, though I don't know if they can see me. I sleep better than I have in month. The weekend passes quietly. No sign of the club, though. So, I check the window of office.
Monday morning, Patch arrives to take me to school. Mom watches from the window as he helps me into the side car. The cookies were good, I tell him. He grins. Mama's cookies are famous.
Don't tell her I said this, but they're better than my mom's ever were. Was your mom nice? I ask, his smile fades when she was sober. The rumble of the engine fills the silence that follows. We don't talk the rest of the way to school.
Patch walks me to the entrance. Students stare, whisper behind their hand. For once, it doesn't bother me. I'll be here at 3:00. Patch says, "Wait inside if I'm late. " "Okay," I say.
He hesitates, then reaches into his pocket. He presses something into my hand. A small patch, the club's insignia. "Keep it hidden," he says. "But if you need help, show this to any angel.
They'll know who you are. " I slide the patch into my jacket pocket. "Thanks, Patch. " He nods once, then walks away. I wheel into school, feeling 10 ft tall. The morning passes uneventfully. People avoid me more than usual.
The Finch brothers are conspicuously absent again. At lunch, I sit at my usual table. A shadow falls across my tray. I look up, expecting trouble. It's a girl, Emily Chen, from my math class.
She stands awkwardly. Lunch tray in hand. Can I sit here? She asks. I stare at her, surprised.
No one ever asked to sit with. Sure, I say. She sits across from me, opens her milk carton, takes a bite of her. People are saying you're friends with the hell angel, she says finally. I tense.
So, she shrugs, just curious if it's true. Would it matter if it was? My dad says they're dangerous. She looks up at me. Are they?
I think about Mama Carter's cookies. Patch's gentle hands fixing my chair. Hawk's eyes concerned but kind. Not to me, I say. Emily nods thoughtfully.
Cory and Dylan are suspended for 2 weeks. Did you know that? I didn't. The principal actually punished them. She shakes her head.