“About the men?”
Caleb stared toward the door.
“Not only them.”
Diane Warren hated people feeling sorry for her.
Lucas had inherited the trait.
Red discovered this within five minutes.
She visited carrying no groceries.
No money.
Just coffee.
Diane approved.
“You're smarter than your friends.”
“I've had practice.”
They sat at the small kitchen table while Lucas was at school.
Diane told her the truth because illness had exhausted her ability to maintain appearances.
She had stage-three breast cancer.
Treatment was working.
Doctors were cautiously optimistic.
But treatment had destroyed their finances.
She had been a hotel manager before getting sick.
Now disability payments covered part of rent.
Lucas paid utilities and groceries with his supermarket job.
Diane hated that.
“He says he's saving for college.”
Red looked around.
“Is he?”
Diane smiled sadly.
“He has four hundred dollars.”
Lucas had also stopped playing baseball.
Turned down a school trip.
Never bought lunch.
Refused birthday gifts.
“He thinks if he becomes inexpensive enough, I won't worry.”
Red understood.
Her own father had been similar.
Men sometimes taught boys that love meant becoming useful.
The lesson rarely ended where intended.
“What about his father?”
“Gone.”
“Dead?”
Diane shook her head.
“Alive. Somewhere in Tennessee last I heard.”
“No contact?”
“Three years.”
“Child support?”
Diane laughed.
“That's adorable.”
Red sipped coffee.
“I want to offer something.”
Diane immediately stiffened.
“Lucas won't take money.”
“I know.”
“Neither will I.”
“Caleb told me that too.”
Red smiled.
“We have scholarship funds through our charity foundation.”
“No.”
“Not for medical bills.”
Diane waited.
“For young people who volunteer at our community events. Training programs. Trade certifications. College.”
Diane's expression changed.
“If Lucas works with us enough hours, he can apply.”
“He'll know you're doing it for him.”
“Yes.”
“He'll refuse.”
“Maybe.”
Red leaned back.
“Then let him.”
Diane smiled.
“You actually understand him.”
“Unfortunately.”
That afternoon Lucas found Red waiting outside the supermarket.
“You stalking my family?”
“Yes.”
He stopped.
“That was a joke?”
“Mostly.”
She told him about the scholarship program.
Lucas immediately shook his head.
“No.”
“Application is competitive.”
“You'll pick me.”
“Maybe you won't qualify.”
“Now you're insulting me.”
“Excellent. We're negotiating.”
He tried not to laugh.
Red continued:
“You want no charity. Fine.”
She handed him a paper.
Volunteer hours.
Essay.
References.
Grades.
Requirements.
“Earn it like everyone else.”
Lucas read.
“You had this program before me?”
“Yes.”
That mattered.
“Okay.”
Red smiled.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“Your mom knows you're considering it.”
“You talked to her?”
“Yes.”
Lucas groaned.
“You people are exhausting.”
“We travel in groups.”
That Saturday Lucas began working at the Iron Ridge clubhouse.
The place surprised him.
Half motorcycle shop.
Half community hall.
A room filled with donated children's coats.
Shelves of canned food.
A bulletin board showing blood drives and veterans' events.
The club was less outlaw fantasy and more badly organized nonprofit with engines.
Bones handed Lucas a broom.
“Hero boy.”
Lucas stopped.
“Don't call me that.”
Bones saw his expression.
“Fine. Bicycle boy.”
“Worse.”
“Perfect.”
Lucas cleaned.
Carried boxes.
Organized supplies.
Later Bones showed him how to remove Caleb's damaged crash bar.
“You like mechanical work?”
“Don't know.”
“That's a yes.”
Lucas learned quickly.
He also noticed something disturbing.
These people remembered him.
Not just the rescue.
His school schedule.
His mother's treatment days.
The fact he hated mustard.
Bones set aside a turkey sandwich without mustard before Lucas said anything.
Lucas stared at it.
“What?”
“How'd you know?”
“Red.”
“Why does she know?”
“She asks questions.”
Lucas felt something uncomfortable.
Belonging.
He didn't trust it yet.
The men from the highway did not come to Lucas's home.
They found him at school.
Not directly.
They used other people.
Three seniors waited beside his locker.
Travis Hale.
Colton Price.
Eddie Monroe.
Lucas knew them.
Everyone did.
Football players.
Parking-lot kings.
Experts at making cruelty look like humor.
Travis leaned against the locker.
“Heard you're hanging with bikers now.”
Lucas continued turning the lock.
“No.”
“Whole street saw them.”
“Then why ask?”
Colton laughed.
Travis grabbed the locker door before Lucas could open it.
“You think you're tough?”
Lucas looked at his hand.
“Move.”
“What happens if I don't? Forty old men show up?”
Lucas's stomach tightened.
The Iron Ridge Riders hadn't caused this.
The video had.
Someone had filmed the motorcycles outside Lucas's apartment.
Social media turned him into a character.
BIKER KID.
HERO TEEN.
People at school had begun asking ridiculous questions.
Did he carry a knife?
Was he joining a gang?
Did he beat up the men from the highway?
Lucas hated attention.
Travis loved an audience.
He shoved Lucas's shoulder.
“Do something.”
Lucas remembered Caleb:
Fear needs time to vote.
He also remembered Diane:
One suspension could cost him work hours, school standing, maybe scholarship eligibility.
So Lucas stepped back.
“No.”
Travis smiled.
“Scared?”
“Yes.”
The answer ruined everything.
Travis blinked.
Lucas continued:
“You're bigger than me and there are three of you. Fighting would be stupid.”
Students nearby laughed.
Not at Lucas.
Travis's face tightened.
He shoved harder.
Lucas hit the lockers.
A teacher appeared.
“What's going on?”
Travis immediately stepped away.
“Nothing.”
Lucas could have agreed.
Old Lucas would have.
Don't create trouble.
Instead:
“He shoved me twice.”
Travis stared.
The teacher looked at witnesses.
Several nodded.
All three seniors were sent to the office.
Lucas shook afterward.
He went to the bathroom and threw up.
That evening he told no one.
Bones noticed the bruise.
“Locker?”
Lucas frowned.
“How do people keep doing that?”
“Pattern looks like metal edge.”
Lucas finally explained.
Bones's expression darkened.
“No.”
“What?”
“No club showing up at school.”
Lucas stared.
“I didn't ask.”
“I know.”
Bones continued:
“That's why I'm saying it before some idiot suggests it.”