You'll Just Know

Chapter 11

Most people, upon seeing Flash for the first time, had the same thought: “That thing moves?”

Admittedly, riding was an art. It had taken years to achieve the perfect balance. Still, though, I was able to pick up a good bit of speed on that old bike of mine, and riding into the warm wind always cleared my head. So I rode towards downtown Devon that day, lost in the thoughts of adolescent confusion.

I was thinking about Wendy. More specifically, I was thinking about Wendy and I. I simply could no longer deny that I had feelings for her that went beyond the boundaries of friendship. The previous day in the cemetery had proved that to me. It was time I faced facts: I had been sunk the very moment I saw her on that balance beam in her backyard. If I denied that, then I was only fooling myself.

So what was the problem? Over the past few weeks, I had honestly come to think of Wendy as my best friend. As far as I was concerned, my relationship with Wendy was already more romantic than with any “girlfriend” I’d ever had. The difference was that we didn’t hold hands or kiss each other goodnight... you know, all the good stuff. But what did she want? I could ruin everything we already had if I sprung all of this on her at once. The thought of losing her as a friend was almost unbearable.

I wobbled into the town square, forcing myself to concentrate on driving again. I had thought when I had set out from my house that maybe I’d ride to the library (that quiet, carpeted, air-conditioned Heaven-on-Earth), but without fully realizing it, I had already begun peddling towards the side of the square that would eventually lead me towards Wendy’s house instead. So, giving in to my instinct, I set my course for the Cameron residence and peddled with renewed resolve.

I’m not sure what I would have said to Wendy if I had made it to her house. I might have said anything, or everything. Maybe it was just the heat, but I was in just that kind of crazy mood. As it turned out, though, I never got the chance to find out.

I had just passed the theater on the north side of town, and began to pedal down the road towards the east, which would eventually lead me to Wendy’s. The sidewalk ended outside of the town square, so I had to steer shakily onto the road.

            The moment Flash’s tires touched the blacktop, there was an ungodly roar of a muffler as a car came rushing up suddenly behind me. In the next instant, even closer, was the bellow of a horn right on my tail.

I had a moment to realize that the person behind me was actually speeding up before feeling a sudden, violent jolt. I was thrown off of Flash. Instinctively, being no stranger to falls, I managed to turn so that I wouldn’t land on my healing right arm. My feet hit first on the grass of a nearby lawn, then I tumbled and skidded to an ungraceful and painful stop, ending up on my back and looking into the cloudless sky. Something  flew into my field of vision and I had just enough time to jerk my head to the side and narrowly miss getting crushed by a bike wheel that thudded into the grass just inches from my face.

I was dizzy. I looked towards what I thought to be the direction of the road, but I was actually looking at somebody’s house. Then I heard that snarling muffler and another blast of a car horn, accompanied by a host of obnoxious laughter behind me.

(Laughing?? They nearly killed me and they were laughing? That was rude even in Jersey!)

I finally got oriented and turned to see a big black Thunderbird idling ominously beside the curb. Black smoke bellowed and fumed from its rear. Leaning out of the driver’s window was none other than Chad Wright, laughing hysterically and pointing at me. Packed into the car with him were six or seven of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen. They were laughing too. One blonde, pimply faced kid in the backseat had a middle finger on each hand turned up at me.

“Hope you’ve got insurance, Jersey.” Chad called to me.

About ten feet in front of his car lay the twisted steel frame of Flash. I noticed that the tire that had landed on the grass next to me was folded neatly in half.

I tried to move and found instead that a whole lot of bruises and scrapes that had quieted down since my fall from the tree were suddenly alive and screaming again, flaring painfully when I tried to move. My attempt at movement elicited another roaring laugh from the interior of the Thunderbird.

“That thing wasn’t safe for the road. Trust me, Jersey, I did you a favor.” Again, the wave of raucous laughter.

            “You’re a real Good Samaritan.” I sneered. (Ouch! It even hurt to sneer!)

            Chad’s face hardened. “I warned you not to mess with me, Jersey. Next time, I’m going to mangle more than your bike...” he returned my sneer in an eerie mimic. The cronies in the car gave another roar of approval.

            Chad gunned his engine to leave with his good parting line. He spit on the ground towards me and, with the cheering approval of his gang, prepared to depart. If I was smart, I would have left it at that. If I had kept my mouth shut, he would have just taken off. My problem has always been, though, that I never could keep my mouth shut...

            “What’s with all of this ‘next time’ garbage?” I called back suddenly.

            Chad, actually having gunned the engine to roar off, suddenly stopped short and his head snapped back in my direction. The engine quieted as he lifted his foot from the gas pedal. “Say what?” he looked at me with disgust, perhaps for interrupting his grand exit.

            “I said, what’s with all of this ‘next time’ garbage? I’m starting to realize that you’re all threats and hot air, Pooh-Bear.”

            The other guys in the car looked confused by “Pooh Bear”, but I knew I had struck a blow to Chad. He was glaring at me with fire. Heh-heh! Got one in for the good guys!

            “Threats and hot air, huh?” he said with a deadly low voice and I suddenly didn’t like his tone at all. I heard him put the car in park and I saw his car door opening.

            Oh... c-r-a-p...

            I tried to get up, but I saw that I wouldn’t make it before Chad got to me. He was stepping out of the car with a dangerous expression on his face. My mouth was suddenly dry.

            “You’re a pretty big man with seven of your buddies.” I said, refusing to go down groveling. If I was going to get pounded, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of watching me whimper.

            Chad shut his car door behind himself just as the blonde pimply kid was trying to follow him out. The heavy door ended up crushing the kid’s nose and he fell back into his seat with a muffled cry.

            “It’s just you and me out here, Jersey. No buddies. No hot air or threats. Just you and me.” He had covered the distance between me and his car and was now hulking above me, blocking not only my view of the car, but almost the entire sky.

            “Quite the challenge, isn’t it?” I glared at him with feigned calm and spoke in a voice that wouldn’t carry to his buddies in the car. “Beat the crap out of the lame kid, huh? Did you knock me off my bike in hopes that I would be too hurt to fight back? Is that your style?”

            Chad didn’t reply, but I saw his stony expression first wince, then change to disgust. He glared down at me in silence and I readied myself for the blows which I was sure would soon follow. Behind him, his buddies watched silently from the idling car.

            After a long moment, Chad finally twisted his mouth as if to say something and I heard him inhale. I had just enough time to think that he was about to sneeze when suddenly he pursed his lips. I tried to dodge too late and the thick, warm gob of spit hit me squarely in the face. I cried out in revulsion and frantically wiped it away with my sleeve as Chad continued to stand ominously above me.

            “Hope you’re a quick healer,” Chad said. “because I am going to see you again real soon.”

            Too stunned and disgusted by the spit, I actually kept my mouth shut this time as he turned and got back into his car. A moment later, he gunned his engine again and screeched forward, crunching over the remains of Flash that lay in his path.