CHAPTER 1
Evie Richelle soared down the cracked sidewalk, legs spread, rubber tires spinning. Summer was here at last, fanning a soft, warm breeze through the air that slapped her uncombed, blond locks against her face like willows in the wind. Her new Roadmaster Aerobee Renegade bike was everything she’d asked for in a bike, only it wasn’t new. It was something her Grandma Ruby called “vintage.” Eleven-year-old Evie didn’t know what the word “vintage” meant, and she didn’t care either. As far as she was concerned, it was cool. And cool suited her just fine.
Tough and yellow, the bike had a brawny bee painted on the side. But the bee wasn’t what Evie loved most. It was the way the wide handlebars curved down at the ends. When her fingers wound around the stiff, rubber grips, she no longer felt like she was on an ordinary bike—she felt like she was on a motorcycle.
A few minutes earlier when she whizzed by the house next door, Ronnie, the boy who lived there, shook his head and said, “You’re a girl. Why are you riding a boy’s bike?”
Evie snickered and replied, “No duh. Why do you play with Barbie’s?”
Ronnie’s eyes widened. “Do not!”
“Do too!”
And he did. She’d seen him one day through her bedroom window. She was one hundred percent sure it was him too because he had the most oval-shaped head of any boy she’d ever seen. It made him look like an extraterrestrial. So much so, sometimes she imagined what he’d look like if he pulled his head off his body, revealing what he really looked like underneath.
Green.
Rubbery.
Alien.
Ronnie threw a stick, narrowly missing Evie’s head. She thought about turning around, waving her middle finger in his direction, something she’d seen her grandmother do once when they were in the car together on the freeway, but she didn’t. He’d just tell his mother, his mother would tell her grandmother, and her bike would be taken away.
No crybaby was worth that.
Besides, she had places to go.
She stuck her tongue out and cranked her foot down on the pedal before Ronnie reached for a handful of gravel. Ronnie hurled the small rocks into the air, aiming for her head, but his pitch was weak. Nothing hit her. Not a single one.
Crisis averted, Evie reached the park and rolled to a stop. She hopped off the bike, leaning it against a sawed-off trunk of a tree. She was debating whether or not it would be safe to leave it there when she heard a sound—a voice—someone screaming. She climbed the grassy hillside to investigate. In the sand in front of the swings, she saw a girl who looked to be about her same age. The girl was on her knees. She was crying. But not just crying. Out and out bawling. Two boys hovered over the girl—one of them taunting, laughing—the other awkward and still. The boys looked older by maybe a year or two. Given she could only see the backs of the boys’ heads, it was too hard to tell their ages for sure.
She needed to get closer, check things out.
“What’s the matter, little girl?” one of the boys teased. “Did someone take your swing away?”
“My name’s not ‘little girl.’ It’s Quinn, and you pushed me!”
“It’s our turn on the swings,” the same boy said. “Besides, what are you going do about it?”
Apparently nothing.
Evie waited, giving Quinn a full minute to buck up and defend herself. But the girl remained where she was, staring at the ground, still crying.
“Hey!” Evie yelled. “Maybe she’s not gonna do something about it, but I will.”
The boy responsible for the taunting roared with laughter until he turned around, saw Evie standing in front of them, one of her fists raised in front of his face.
The other boy said, “Evie? What are you doing here?”
Evie ignored him, looked at Quinn, noticed a tear in the knee of her thick, light blue stockings, sand scattered throughout her long, dark pigtails. Evie looked up at the boy who addressed her. “Roman Tanner, say you’re sorry!”
“He’s not gonna do that,” the other boy said. “We told little girl here to get off the swing and she didn’t. Too bad if she got scraped up when I booted her. She should have done what I asked the first time.”
Roman stood still, his eyes never leaving Evie as he said, “Dylan, maybe we should—”
“You kiddin’ me?” Dylan said. “No way. Don’t let a girl tell you what to do.”
Evie drilled her fist straight forward. It connected with Dylan’s nose. Blood splashed out.
Quinn gasped. Roman froze. Evie produced a smug smile.
“Did … you … see … what … she … did … to … me?!” Dylan cried.
Evie turned her attention to Roman. “Say … you’re … sorry. Do it!”
Roman raised his hands in front of him. “All right, all right. I’m sorry!”
“Not to me, you idiot,” Evie said. “To her.”
Roman pressed his eyes together until they were tiny slits. “Sorry. Okay?”
“Like you mean it,” Evie scolded.
“Sorry!”
“Good. Now get out of here. Both of you.”
The boys turned and went, Dylan shooting Evie a look like she may have gotten her way this time, but it was far from over. Evie didn’t care. Grandma Ruby always told her bullies were usually the biggest wimps of them all, and looking at the tear trailing down Dylan’s cheek now, she believed her.
Evie held out a hand, Quinn took it and stood up.
“Wow,” Quinn said. “They’re really scared of you.”
“Not me, my Grandma Ruby. She’s friends with Roman’s grandma. He knows what would happen if I told her what he did. I wouldn’t though. I’m no squealer. And I’ve learned how to take care of myself. You should too.”
Quinn shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Evie knew Quinn wasn’t the type of girl to defend herself though. One look at Quinn’s blue dress and matching hair bows, and she knew everything she needed to know. She was soft, easy, the perfect kind of girl to tease. And she was thin, a lightweight. Evie imagined if she jabbed her with a pinkie finger she’d tip right over again.
“Why haven’t I seen you before?” Evie asked.
“We just moved here a couple weeks ago.”
“Who’s we?”
“My mom, dad, and my … umm … sister.”
“Younger or older?” Evie asked.
“What?”
“Your sister.”
“Younger.” Quinn rolled her eyes. “She’s a pain. Follows me around everywhere.”
Evie smiled. Maybe Quinn wasn’t so sweet after all. “I’m Evie.”
“Quinn.”
“What grade are you going into this year?”
“Fifth.”
“Me too. Who’s your teacher?”
“Landers.”
“Hey, mine too.” Quinn may have dressed a little too girly for Evie’s tastes, but Evie admired the chain she wore around her neck. It was silver with two hearts interlocked around each other. “Cool necklace, by the way.”
Quinn reached a hand behind her, unclasped the necklace, held it out to Evie. “It’s yours.”
“Oh, hey. You don’t have to give it to me just because I like it.”
Quinn dropped the necklace into Evie’s hands. “It’s okay. I want you to have it. Friends?”
Evie nodded. “Have you met anyone else since you moved here?”
“No, why?”
“I was wondering if you wanna hang out with me this year at school.”
Quinn shrugged. “Sure.”
“Good.”
In the distance, Evie heard someone calling Quinn’s name.
“That’s my mom,” Quinn said. “I have to go. See you around ’kay? Hopefully we’ll be together next time those boys come around again.”
Evie swished a hand through the air. “Aww, don’t worry about them. When you’re with me, I won’t ever let anything bad happen to you.”
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