Please, Mom. I interrupt. I've been quiet until now. I want to go. Mom looks at me surprised.
I'm not usually assertive. Not anymore. Eli, it's not safe. It's safer than school, I say. Her face falls.
I immediately regret my words. I didn't mean no. Mom says quietly. You're right. She turns back to the bikers.
One visit. Daylight hours. Then we'll see. Friday night. Hawk suggests we do a family dinner.
6:00. Family. Mom repeats. Club tradition. Patch explains.
Family's welcome. Good food. No trouble. Mom hesitates. Friday, she agrees finally, but we leave by 8.
Deal, Hawk says. He looks at me. We'll pick you up at 5:30. After they leave, mom sinks onto the couch. What am I doing, Eli?
I wheel over to her. The right thing. She doesn't look convinced. Friday comes quickly. I'm nervous all day at school.
The Finch brothers are back, but they leave me alone. Word has spread about my new friend. The freaks got the angels watching him. I overhear in the hallway. I don't care what they call me.
The fear in their voices is worth it. At 5:30, a rumble of engines announces our escort. Mom brushes her hair one more time, straightens my collar. We don't have to do this, she says. We can still cancel.
I want to go, I tell her. She sigh. Okay. But we stick together, and if anything feels wrong, we leave. I nod, but I know nothing will feel wrong.
Not with them. Downstairs, two motorcycles wait. Hawk and P. Patch has a sidecar attached to his bike. For you, he tells me, grinning.
Custom made. The sidecar has been modified. Wider entrance. Secure locking system for my wheelchair. It must have taken days to build.
You did this for me? I ask. Pat shrugs. Had the parts lying around. No big deal.
It is a big deal. We both know it. Mom rides behind Hawk. I'm secured in the sidec car. Wind rushes past as we ride through town.
People staring as we pass. The clubhouse is on the edge of town. A large compound surrounded by a high fence. Guards nod as we approach. The gates swing open.
Inside is different than I expected. Clean, organized. A main building, several smaller ones, a well-kept yard, motorcycles lined up neatly, music plays from speakers mounted on the porch, men in vests, women in jeans and t-shirts, even a few kids running around. Normal almost. Patch helps me out of the sidecar, sets up my chair.