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  “What about Mom? I thought she gave you money.”

  Jonny rolled his eyes. “Yeah, barely. For rent. She’s not even giving me money for food. She insists on taking me grocery shopping. Like I’m a baby.”

  “She doesn’t trust you,” Mary said.

  Jonny opened his mouth, ready to argue. Desperation flickered in his eyes. He looked away, picked at the table with his fingernail, peeling off a splinter of wood. “Look, I know. It hasn’t been good. I screwed up. A lot. But I’m changing, Mary. This is my chance to start over.”

  “I don’t have much,” Mary said.

  “What about that birthday money from Grams?” Jonny ventured. There was urgency in his voice, new hope. “She gave you, like, two hundred dollars, right? Do you still have that?”

  Mary was saving that money. She wanted to buy some things for herself. Maybe a denim jacket. More art supplies. More things.

  Just things.

  “Okay,” she relented. “But I need it back, every cent.”

  Jonny’s eyes lit up. A smile wriggled across his face like a snake moving through the grass. “Oh man, that’s so awesome. Thank you, Mary, thank you, thanks a million,” he gushed. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

  “Sure,” she said. “I believe you.”

  Because, really, what else was there to say?

  19

  [bikes]

  Griffin, Cody, and Mary raced their bikes along a network of dirt trails in the woods behind the middle school. Even under the relative cool of the shaded canopy, they dripped with sweat from their exertion. It was a scorching day, and not even noon yet. Over the years different bikers had built up hills and ramps, working on their own with shovels and muscle, to create a private paradise.

  “I never knew this place existed,” Mary marveled, guzzling from her water bottle.

  Cody was preparing to perform a dangerous stunt. Griff cupped his hands around his mouth, cheering him on. “All right, Cody! Go big or go home!”

  Cody paused at the top of a medium incline, which led down to two ramps. A small one, which most everybody used, and a much larger one, reserved for maniacs and reckless daredevils. Cody pushed off on his right leg, rose up on both pedals, and fearlessly bombed down the hill at max speed. He hit the big ramp and flew, handlebars almost vertical over the seat. The back tire bounced heavily on the dirt and skidded; thrown off the bike, Cody rolled and tumbled with a meaty thud. The bike smacked into a thicket of underbrush. Mary stepped forward. “Oh my God.”

  There was a pause, when every injury seemed possible—cracked ribs, a broken leg, a severed spine—and then Cody raised a hand, thumbs up, and laughed out loud.

  “That was sick!” Griff enthused. “Cody, my man, you are a beast!”

  Mary had been hanging out more with Griff this past week. Not every day, but regularly, if tentatively. She still wasn’t sold on him. He had an edge that was intriguing but also … off somehow. Still, he was the only person on the planet she could talk to about Jonny, and right now she needed that. Alexis and Chrissie were vacationing together on the Jersey Shore. Chrissie’s parents allowed her to invite one friend, once more making the hierarchy of middle school friendship an easy chart to read. It came in the shape of a pyramid—a three-dimensional triangle, known to math whizzes like Mary as a tetrahedron—and she was closer to the base than the apex. It bummed her out a little, to be left out. And with Chantel’s status unclear, Mary either kept to herself or joined Griff and his revolving galaxy of knuckleheads on their daily escapades. Mary wasn’t sure where she fit with Griff’s crowd, or even if she wanted to, but it was better than sitting home alone munching marshmallows and staring at the fish tank.

  Speaking of knuckleheads, up rolled one of Mary’s least favorite people: Drew Peterson, a hulking, super-sketchy dude who fulfilled every caveman stereotype. Griff seemed to respect Drew for some reason, and in that trying-not-trying way of his, he schemed to earn Drew’s admiration.

  “Droop,” Griff said in greeting.

  And more melodically, “Droopy!” from Cody.

  “Figured I might find you here,” Drew said. He climbed off his bike, holding a white plastic bag. “Man, it’s stupid hot! You guys seen Sinjay? I wouldn’t mind jumping in his pool.”

  He gazed open-mouthed at Mary, who sat cross-legged on the ground in her shorts. No hello, just the look. Something about him made her skin crawl. He wasn’t the brightest bulb, either. Probably took too many shots to the helmet in Pop Warner football. Good nickname, though. Drew Peterson got shortened to Drew P., then Droopy or just Droop. The group dynamic tilted whenever he came around, and all of a sudden Mary wished she were anywhere else. Mathematically, Griff’s kindness to Mary was in inverse proportion to the number of people who were around. The more witnesses, the colder he got. The nice boy from the ice cream parlor was a million miles away. Where did he go? Mary wondered.

  “Sweet bike,” Droopy noted. “New?”

  Griff nodded, grinned.

  “Dig the shocks,” Droopy said.

  “Cody installed ’em for me. Changes the look, you know?” Griff said.

  “I’d love a bike like that,” Droopy gushed. “If you ever see one that needs a home.”

  Griff glanced at Mary. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Yep, yep,” Cody chirped.

  Mary found that whole exchange suspicious. What was up with Griff and bicycles? He gave her one. How weird was that? Who gives bikes away?

  “Hey, check this,” Droopy said. “I found all these ketchup packets behind McDonalds!” He opened the plastic bag to reveal dozens of individual ketchup packets.

  “Okaaaaay,” Griff said.

  “No, it’s hysterical. Watch this,” Droop said. He placed a packet on a flat rock and stomped on it with his foot. Splat, the ketchup squirted an impressive distance.

  “Whoa,” Cody said, “let me try.”

  So that’s what they did: splattered ketchup on the trees and bushes, leaving plastic wrappers all over the ground. Mary stretched, grumbled, checked her phone. Boredom in the suburbs was a terrible thing. It led to all kinds of idiocy. “I might head out,” she said.

  The boys went with her, maybe just for something to do, feeling just as restless. They threaded a path behind the middle school to the football field and the track that surrounded it. “Hey, look,” Cody said. “There’s your buddy, Griff.”

  He pointed to a lone figure shuffling along the track. He wore a short-sleeved, button-down shirt and long pants. Not exactly the outfit of a track star. Curly hair, pear-shaped body. Mary recognized him as David Hallenback, one of the kids in school she tended to ignore.

  Griffin’s face brightened. “Hallenback. God, that kid is so annoying. Let’s say hello.”

  “Yep, yep, yep,” Cody agreed.

  “Oh, this’ll be good,” Droopy said, still clutching his half-filled plastic bag.

  Mary followed along.

  20

  [ketchup]

  Mary didn’t have a clue what was going to happen next, but she didn’t have a good feeling based on the look of disgust on Griffin’s face. David Hallenback was a stumpy-legged kid who was not the type who’d be pals with Griffin Connelly. Yet when David looked up to see the four bicyclists pedaling his way, he offered up a worshipful greeting. “Griff! Hey!”

  Griffin pedaled swiftly toward David, rising on the pedals, as if he was going to ram straight into him before braking hard at the last second.

  David recoiled, then laughed with relief, looking around at the group. “Funny, Griff!” Hallenback looked hot and tired. He was dressed in jeans and his shirt had huge sweat stains along the back and under the armpits. His freckled face was flushed and blotchy.

  “What are you doing out here, Hallenback? Are you … exercising?” Griff asked in a tone of disbelief.

  “Yes,” David said, raising his fists in a gesture of pumping weights. “I’m in training!”

  Droopy snickered.

  The boy
s got off their bikes. Mary, too.

  “So explain it to me,” Griff said. “I don’t understand. You don’t strike me as the exercising type.”

  David chuckled, his small dark eyes shimmering. “My uncle Lewis said he’d give me a fifty dollar gift certificate to any store at the mall if I can run a full mile without stopping.”

  Griff whistled. “Wow, no stopping, huh? How’s it going?”

  David grinned impishly. Mary thought he was almost cute, in a basset hound puppy kind of way. “Today, I made it almost once all the way around,” he said, not without pride.

  “Once!” Griff barked. “You hear that, Mary? One time. What’s a mile? Four times?”

  “Four times around,” Cody said. “Yep, yep, yep.”

  “Oh,” David said, somehow not aware of that basic fact. He pulled at the front of his wet, sticky shirt.

  “I wonder if you are sufficiently motivated to run a full mile,” Griff mused. “What do you guys think? Is Hallenback trying hard enough?”

  “No, he is not,” Droopy stated.

  David laughed, eagerly looking from face to face, trying to figure out the shift in tone.

  Griff grabbed the bag from Droopy’s hand. He took out a ketchup packet, tore it open with his teeth. “Here’s the new training plan, Hallenback. You start running, right? And if you stop, we squeeze ketchup on you.”

  The smile on David’s face slowly faded.

  He tried laughing it off.

  “I’m not kidding,” Griff said. He patted David on the shoulder. “This is a proven training strategy. We’re here to help. This will work, believe me. And then, ka-ching, you get fifty bucks. Any store in the mall! You’ll be thanking us later.”

  “Griff,” Mary said.

  He ignored her.

  “You ready, Hallenback? You all limber and everything? Need to do some jumping jacks before you begin?”

  “I’m really tired,” David said. “It’s too hot.”

  Griffin Connelly reached his hand out over David’s head and squeezed out a splatter of ketchup. It dripped onto David’s hair.

  “Whoa!” Droopy roared, laughing. He clapped his hands.

  Hallenback stood in shock, wiping a hand through his hair in disbelief.

  “That’s not cool, Griff,” Mary said.

  Griff pulled out another ketchup packet, stared directly at Mary as he tore it open with his teeth. “What are you waiting for, David?” Griffin flashed a wolfish smile. “Do you like being a french fry?”

  “He’s a french fry, he’s a french fry!” Cody sang, bouncing around in amusement.

  Droopy reached into the bag, grabbed a handful of packets. “My turn next.”

  David took one look at Droopy’s thuggish face and started to run. The halting, lumbering stride of a nonathlete. He didn’t stand a chance. Halfway around the first lap, David began to clutch his side, slowed by a cramp. Griffin and the boys followed him on their bikes, cheering him on.

  “Come on, David! You can do it, brother!”

  “Think of those fifty dollars!”

  “Don’t stop, don’t you stop,” Griff warned.

  But of course he did. There was no way on earth David Hallenback could run a full mile in that late August heat. It just wasn’t in him. He stopped, bent over, head down, hands on his knees, gasping.

  Droopy splattered a packet on his back. Another one on his shoulders.

  “He’s a french fry!” Cody cried, laughing.

  David started jogging again.

  Mary grabbed Griffin by the arm. “This is gross. What are you doing? You have to stop it.”

  “Relax, we’re joking around. It’s funny,” Griff said. His eyes had gone cold. He had switched over to something else, or someone else, darker than Mary had seen before. Droopy watched them argue, amused by it.

  “What are you staring at, Droop?” Mary snapped. “Do you always breathe through your mouth?”

  Droopy was surprised by her ferocity. Griffin turned to look at him, too, perhaps curious how he’d react to Mary’s challenge. Droopy responded by giving a fierce tug on David’s shirt, ripping it along the side seam. Forced to the brink, David fought back. He pushed against Droopy, catching the larger boy off-balance. The advantage lasted a second, maybe two. Then, with an explosive two-handed shove, Droopy sent David sprawling to the ground. His head hit with a thud that sounded painful.

  “No!” Mary yelled. She stepped beside the fallen boy. “Stop it, or so help me…” She pulsed with raw anger, tensed and ready to launch herself at Droopy’s throat.

  Droopy smirked, unimpressed. “Gee, you’re pretty when you’re mad. You wanna wrestle?”

  “Okay, fun’s over,” Griff announced with artificial sweetener in his voice. He extended a hand, helping David to his feet. The curly-haired boy, covered in ketchup and shame, stood shaken. Griff smiled. “It’s all good now, no worries, Hallenback. Things got a little out of hand. Just kidding around.”

  David couldn’t bring himself to look at the others. He nodded to indicate that he heard the words, but did not, Mary hoped, necessarily agree with the message.

  “Droop, apologize to Hallenback.”

  Droopy stared at Griff for a long moment. “Sorry, Hallenback,” he relented.

  “Are you hurt?” Griff asked.

  David cautiously probed the bump on the back of his head. Checked his fingers for blood.

  “All right, you can go home now, Hallenback. Practice is over. You got lucky today. Mary here has a soft heart. She’s your guardian angel. But you keep running, Hallenback. Don’t you stop,” Griff said. “We’ll be following you. Go on, get going.”

  David glanced sideways at Griff. His face remained tilted down and away, the way a beta dog might stand before an alpha. He never glanced toward Mary or the others. Only Griff. “I will,” he said, scarcely above a whisper, talking to a spot on the ground. “You’ll see. I’ll get better.” And off he went in his uneven, Hallenback-styled shamble. Bizarrely determined to do his best, as if that were the lesson of the day. To try harder. Not that these guys were cruel and to be avoided at all costs. Not that he had a right to be treated with decency and respect. But that he needed to get better—then his problems might go away. David cut around the school and behind the back. The gang of four—Griff, Cody, Droopy, and Mary—watched him go.

  “What a chimp,” Droopy said.

  “You’re an idiot,” Mary replied.

  “Speaking of french fries,” Cody said. “I’m hungry.”

  21

  [court]

  Now it was out in the open, the fact laid bare: Mary had witnessed firsthand the cruelty of Griffin Connelly. There was no going back. No thought of friendship or more advanced relationships. All that was over. But Mary couldn’t leave the group this minute, not with Hallenback still out there. If she wasn’t around, things could get uglier.

  * * *

  “Let’s follow him,” Griff said.

  “Hold on,” Mary countered, stalling for time. She tried to keep the distress out of her voice, didn’t want to sound weak. “Leave him alone. He’s not worth it, Griff. We can go swimming or get a slice in town.”

  Griff looked at her with scorn. “Oh, are you still here, Mary? I thought you had to go home?”

  Droopy snickered. He took pleasure in their hostilities.

  Mary glared back. “I’m still here.”

  Griff eyed her for a long pause, then said, “Because if you want to go, then go. Feel free. Nobody’s stopping you.”

  “I know that,” she said, staring right back.

  Mary gripped the handlebars of the bicycle. Her knuckles went white. She hated being in this position. The way Griff took charge of everyone but somehow made it all seem like it was their choice. The way he cheered on Cody to perform that dangerous stunt—just because Griff thought it would be amusing to watch.

  The group pedaled aimlessly on the grass field behind the school. Cody and Droopy chatted and laughed, loose and relaxed; neither M
ary nor Griffin spoke a word. There was no sign of Hallenback, but they spotted a boy shooting baskets by himself on the playground court in the distance. Red shorts and a sleeveless tee. Dribble, dribble, dribble—like the sound of a steady heartbeat—then spin, shoot, nothing but net. He was smooth. It made Mary think of Chantel, and a pinprick of regret punctured her heart. Griffin set sail in that direction.

  If the boy saw the riders coming, and he must have, he did a good job of not showing it. He set up at the foul line, eyes fixed on the rim, as if nothing else in the world existed but that orange basket. Griff pulled up halfway between the basket and the foul line, directly in the boy’s vision. Griff sat balanced on one leg. He crossed his arms, cool as a breeze. Mary fell in with Cody and Droopy, who kept pedaling their bikes, slowly circling like a pack of wolves around vulnerable prey.

  “You didn’t see anybody come by here, did you?” Griff asked.

  “Looks like a french fry,” Cody chirped.

  The boy had a sweet face, blond hair and long, lanky arms. He looked at Griffin and the others. “I’ve been shooting around,” he shrugged, lifting his chin to indicate the net.

  Hmmm, interesting. Mary knew he was lying. And if she knew, it was certain that Griff knew, too. But how would Griff react? He was unpredictable to her now. What she thought she knew was no longer true. Mary wasn’t sure what he’d do next, like an unknown chemical the teacher provided for experiments in science lab. A volatile mixture. Griff slid off his bike and dropped it to the ground like he’d forgotten gravity existed. He clapped his hands, made a target. “Let’s see that ball.”

  The blond boy snapped off a crisp bounce pass. Cody and Droopy dismounted, eager to join this new game. Mary remained seated on her bike, parked to the side, silently watching. The kid looked uncomfortable, but at the same time, he worked hard not to show it. “You new around here?” Griff asked. He took an awkward shot. The ball clanged away.