Eli, I don't want you getting involved with those people. They're not They're not good men. They helped me when no one else would, I say. I know, but no one else ever stops at mom. Not the teach, not the principal, not even the my voice.
No one but them. Mom sits beside me. Her arms go around my shoulders. I'm trying, Eli. I call the school.
I report it. I can't make them do anything. I lean against her. I know, Mom. She takes the note from my hand, stares at the number, then surprising me, she folds it carefully, and puts it in her purse.
Just in case, she says, "But I still don't want you around them. Promise me. " I nod, but uh in my mind I see Hawk's eyes when he found me on the ground. I hear Patch's voice promising to fix my chair. For the first time in years, I felt safe. I'm not ready to give that up.
The next morning, I wheel myself into school. The new wheels are smooth, silent. They don't squeak or pull to the side. Whispers follow me through the hallway. Different whispers today.
That's him. The Hell Angels. They're watching the school. I keep my head high for once. I don't try to be invisible.
Cory and Dylan aren't in school. Rumor says they're suspended, but I don't believe it. More likely, their dad kept them home until things blow over. At lunch, I take my usual table. I unwrap my sandwich.
Someone bumps my chair as they pass. My milk spills across the table. Oops, a voice says, "Sorry, wheels. " Laughter follows. I grab napkins, mop up the mess. Some things don't change.
I finish lunch quickly. In the hallway, I head for my lock. Something feels wrong with my It wobbles, pulls right again. I look down. The front wheel is loose.
Someone's tampered with it. I try to tighten it, but I need tools. The wheel gets worse as I make my way toward the exit. School's not over, but I need to leave. Need to fix this before I'm stranded.
The wheel falls off completely at the top of the exit ramp. My chair tips forward. I grab the railing, barely stopping myself from tumbling down. Need a hand? I look up.
Hawk stands at the bottom of the ramp. Behind him, three motorcycles idle in the fire. Someone broke my chair, I say. Hawk nods one. He climbs the ramp, examines the damage.
Deliberate, he says. His voice is calm, but his eyes are angry. Someone removed the bolt. He produces a small tool kit from his pocket. Selects a wrench and a replacement bolt.
Always carry spares, he explains. Bikes break down, too. His hands are steady as he fixes the wheel. It takes less than a minute. Try it now, he says.
I roll forward cautiously. The chair moves smoothly again. Thanks, I say. Hawk studies my face. You doing okay after yesterday?
I nod. I'm used to it. His jaw tightens. You shouldn't have to be. We sit in silence for a moment.
Then he says, "Need a ride home? " "I should say no. I promise, Mom. " But the thought of waiting for the bus of being alone again. "Yes," I say. Hawk helps me down the ramp. Patch is there waiting with the other school let out early?
Patch asks, but his tone says he knows better. "Wheelchair emergency," Hawk explains. Patch checks my chair again. His expression darkens when Hawk shows him the sabotage. "This stops now," Patch says quietly.