Crunch (5 page)

RUNKS AND MACEY CAME WITH US TO THE BIKE
Barn that night. Goodness and Greatness came, nosing and licking at our guests. Robert leaned down to pat them on the way. Macey too. With Runks chatting and doing his town-crier thing, I felt like I was in a play. I had the role of Dad, welcoming everyone into the bike shop.

Runks paused and slapped a hand on the door to the shop. “Listen, you are locking up after dark, correct?” he asked. His face was unusually serious.

“W-well, yeah,” I said. “Pretty much.” I shot a look at Vince as if to ask him,
Have we been?
It wasn’t something we’d worried about a lot.

“They’re okay,” Macey said. “Who’s going to
find this place way back here?”

“Oh, they find us,” Vince said. I rolled the door open and he pointed at the dozen or so bicycles packed against the south wall.

“Oh.” Macey laughed. “I guess they do find you!”

Vince crossed through the shop and pushed open the paddock door. “The overflow,” he said. Six or seven more bikes loosely chained up.

Now Runks let out a long whistle. “Whew! Home alone
and
keeping shop, too. Good for you, men! But just a warning, bikes are a commodity these days. Worth more than cash in some ways. We’re seeing a lot of thefts,” he said.

I nodded, his words settling into the back of my mind.

“So it’s pretty much all repairs here?” Officer Macey asked. I think he was trying to lighten things up. He looked around, took our shop in with an approving sort of nod that gave me a huge sweep of pride.

“We don’t carry much merch,” I said. “A few racks and tubes.” I headed up the loft stairs and
everyone followed. “We had to move the bikes we’ve built up here when the shop filled up with repair jobs.”

Robert was the last one up the loft stairs, and he turned to look back at Goodie and Greatie. Both dogs had stopped at the bottom and stood wagging their tails.

“They only climb carpeting,” Vince explained.

We just had a few Marriss-built bikes to sell. Dad had sold some the week before the anniversary trip. It didn’t take Robert long to zero in on a hybrid.

“It’s a good choice,” I said. “It’s no racer, but it’ll do you well for the kind of riding you’re doing.”

“Nice components,” Officer Macey said, looking the bike over. “
Real
nice.”

“The Marrisses know how to put together a superior ride,” Runks announced, and I figured both he and Macey were good for business.

While Robert and I talked, the officers milled around. They took a look at our little inventory together, then moved off into the loft. At some point, I heard Macey mutter, “Oh, this guy has
got
to learn some manners.”

I looked up. Macey was at the open hay door looking down into Mr. Spivey’s yard. He was shaking his head.

I crossed the loft and looked out. Below us, Lil spoke.

“Mr. Spivey, I’m
not
coming back to shovel up manure and neither are my brothers. The next good rain will take care of it. Trust me.” She tugged Gloria Cloud’s tether and changed her tone. “Come on, sweet girl,” she said.

“The job’s not done anyway,” Mr. Spivey said, his finger jabbing at the ground. “The grass is still tall in the back! I’m gonna need—”

“Hey! Enough!”
Macey boomed like thunder. “You hear me? You asked someone to come get the animal and she’s done that,” he said. “Don’t let me hear you say another thing—unless it’s thank you.”

Fat chance. We didn’t get thank-yous out of the Spive. Ever.

“Are we clear?” Macey called down.

Our neighbor retreated to his back porch without answering. We heard the door slam.

I knew
I
was clear—clear that being friends with two cops was going to be even better than being friends with one. Maybe he was a little gruff. But I liked Officer Macey.

We took a short ride out to the highway. It was a great way for Robert to get a feel for his new bike. I got my chance to chase Macey—just a little. He set a good pace. Just when I thought I might pass him, the siren on his copsicle sounded a sharp
Whoop! Whoop!

“Busted!” he called. “Speeding!” I dropped back behind him, laughing.

Meanwhile, Robert pedaled up beside me and said, “Oh yeah! It’s a deal, Dewey! I have found my ride!”

A net of darkness began to fall. Runks and Macey lit our way. Their bike lights were as bright as a car’s headlights.

When we stopped back in our yard, the copsicle lights shone on the Bike Barn door. Angus and Eva ran through the beams. Their shadows shrank and grew against the old boards.

“See my wings!” cried Eva. “I’m a bird!”

“I’m a dino!” Angus shouted. Then Goodness’s shaggy dog shadow loped in from the side, followed by Greatness’s sleek one. Angus’s shadow ran away then came back again carrying a branch. “A tree! A tree for your bird, Eva!” He put the branch over his head.

“Do that again, Angus!” Lil called. “That’s beautiful!” She put her curled hands up to her eyes like a pair of binoculars. I’d seen her do it before. I knew she was
seeing
something for her art.

Since Runks and Macey were heading back toward town they agreed to escort Pop and Mattie home.

“See you at camp tomorrow morning,” Mattie said to the twins.

“Just like…yesterday!” Angus said.

“And like today,” Eva added.

Meanwhile, Robert Deal paid me in cash and I added the money to our fancy cash register. I duct-taped a flashlight to his handlebars and Vince clipped a reflector onto the back of his shirt.

“We can’t have you getting hit by another biker,” I said, and I forced a chuckle. I wasn’t sure
it was funny, but Robert gave me a grin.

“Boy, am I glad I stopped you on that tandem today,” he said. He swung up onto his new bike and began to roll.

“Come back anytime!” I called after him as he rode away. “And get a helmet!
Tomorrow!
”

He waved and I heard him call, “Thanks, Dewey!”

Robert was just down the driveway and out of sight when I heard the telephone ringing inside our house. I pushed the barn door closed and squeezed the padlock until it clicked. Then I ran for the phone.

“Is everyone staying healthy? Are you eating all right?” Dad asked. Together he and Mom asked a thousand questions about us kids, especially the twins. “We’re fine!” Lil said. “Today wasn’t any different than yesterday.” That part was sad when it came to Lil personally. Mom and Dad were sorry to learn that her class in Elm City was off.

“It’s just unlucky,” Lil said, but again, I knew she was toughing it out. She covered by launching into the news that she was starting the new mural, and
I heard her ask Mom about some paint, and Dad something about using the compressor to spray-paint.

I could only assume she meant the same compressor that we used in the bike shop
every day
to pump flats and blow gunk out of bearing sets. The
only
compressor. I scrunched my brow at Vince. He let a puff of air through his lips and whispered, “Kiss that baby good-bye.”

But soon Lil was asking about Mom and Dad. “We want to know how
you
are,” Lil told them. We all crowded up to listen.

“We’re all right,” Mom said. “Still sleeping in the tent and paying for showers at the truck stop. There are other people in our same situation. The stops to the south must be much more crowded. So maybe we’re lucky that way. They let us charge up the phone, and we watch the news at the diner here. And boy, no rain in sight, huh?” She asked about the garden and the goat girls, but then she asked about us again and again.

Mom relaxed a little when we said we’d seen Pop and Mattie and that we’d eaten a big supper
together, and Runks had visited. We put the twins on the phone. They passed the receiver back and forth. I kept hearing Angus say, “But do you think there will be some diesel
tomorrow
?”

Finally, I got a turn to talk and I told Dad about selling the bike to Robert Deal. “Oh, well done!” he said. “Was it busy again today?”

“It was,” I said, and I flashed on the Gilmartin incident for a split second. “But nothing we can’t handle,” I added. Vince threw himself in front of my face and crossed his eyeballs at me. He pretended to choke himself and die on the floor right there in the kitchen. I turned my back on him. “I can’t even remember, but I think seven or eight bikes went back out today,” I said. “And Dad, I’m probably going to have to make a run to Bocci’s for parts soon. How do we usually pay him? Can I take him cash?”

“Sure. Bocci likes cash just fine,” Dad said. “But Dewey, what are you running out of? Has there really been that much business?”

“Dad,” I said, “it is so cool. We’re the ones putting everybody back on the road.”

THE NEXT MORNING, ANGUS AND EVA AND I
pedaled to Sea Camp as usual, except that I had hitched the carrier to my bike. I had a roll of dough in my pocket and I was going to pick up parts at Bocci Bike and Rec. There were just too many jobs in the shop that we couldn’t do because we needed this part or that part.

With the twins settled at camp, I cooked down the Post Road and got on the highway at Featherbed Lane. We were in for another hot one. The empty carrier wheeled along easily behind me. I’d be using my legs—big-time—all the way home. For now, I rode the left lane, passing pretty much everyone. I couldn’t help thinking, Eat my dust!

Timing is everything. A pack of cyclists on road
bikes began to pass me on the left. They zipped by in their purple-and-white jerseys, heads and shoulders bent over their handlebars.

“Team Bocci!” I whispered to myself. I pedaled harder—for about a nanosecond. Then I watched as they continued down the highway. Talk about dust. They were soon out of view. I’d see them at the store. But not for a while.

I pedaled on. I listened for diesels. One tiny electric surprised me as it hummed by. I had to smile. They were cute, efficient cars. Dad had said we’d be seeing more of them. Vince called them wheelie pods. Around our house, the name had stuck.

Poor Vince. I’d left him alone in the shop again. “Just like yesterday…” he’d sort of sung it to me as I was leaving. I’d told him, “We can’t clear bikes if we don’t have parts.”

I followed several other riders into the parking lot at Bocci. No cars.

“Ah, young Mr. Marriss!” Mr. Bocci had an Italian accent that rang like a welcome bell. “And with a trailer, I see.” He held the door open while two people rode brand-new bikes right out of the showroom onto the sidewalk.

“Hey, Mr. Bocci,” I said. Then, because it seemed the natural thing to say, I asked, “How are sales?”

“Good.” He wiped his brow. “
Terribly
good!” He laughed. “You want a job?” He was probably kidding. I wasn’t even sure it was legal for a fourteen-year-old kid to have a real job.

“Uh, well, thanks. But we’re
terribly busy
, too.” I stole his line. “I’m looking for parts, if you can help me,” I said. “I tried to get here early. I know you’re busy. But I’m on my own—well, with my brother. My dad is stranded up north.”

“Yes, yes.” His brow creased. “This is the kind of news I hear. Come on in, young Mr. Marriss.” He led me to the back of the shop.

As he read the list he gave it a few sharp whacks with the side of his pen. “Okay. Yes-yes. I have these crank sets. Oh, these…not sure. We’ll check this model. Brake shoes, no problem.”

A couple of the mechanics looked up to say hello. They knew me. Sort of. I’d been in with Dad before, back in the days of free-flowing gasoline. Now I tried not to look like the annoying kid down from Rocky Shores just wanting to grab up parts.

Most of Team Bocci’s riders were either in sales or worked as mechanics. A couple of those guys hadn’t even gotten out of their purple cycling jerseys, but already they were working on bikes. Tools flashed. Wheels spun. They were fast and good at what they did.

“Ack, they will ruin the uniforms,” Mr. Bocci muttered. “Degreaser. Lubricants. All petroleum products, you know?” Mr. Bocci handed me an empty cardboard box. He began pulling items from the shelves. “A carton of twenty-seven-inch tubes…just one of this twelve-speed gear set…Oh, yes. My last one.” He plunked it into my box.

“Mr. Bocci,” I said. He stopped and looked at me. “Maybe…maybe I shouldn’t take it then. If it’s your last one. It’s going to be hard for all of us to get parts now.”

“Yes-yes. So this one goes on a bike you fix, or a bike my guys fix. What’s the difference? Not to worry,” he said. “There will be a way to get more parts. For clever people, the world does not stand still.”

I thought for a moment. Hadn’t Dad said
something like that just the other night?

“You know the team?” Mr. Bocci went on.

“Your team, sir? The bike racers?”

“Yes. They don’t just
ride
for Bocci. They
work
for Bocci. So times change. So maybe I need them to ride to Elm City. Pick up some parts for me there. We are looking to get deliveries off the train. The other shops are going to do the same.” He thought for a moment. “It’s simple. These teams of riders can meet each other. Pull the trailer like you do. We can hand things off all the way across the country if we have to.”

“Y-you mean like the old Pony Express?” I felt my eyebrows rise.

He laughed. “Yes! Sure! But on bikes!”

“Seems
primitive
,” I said.

“Going
back
isn’t going
backward
. Not if it’s the only way to keep going
forward
.” Mr. Bocci waited. Maybe he knew that I needed a beat to let that sink in. I liked what he was saying even if it made my brain ache. “Okay, young Mr. Marriss…” Mr. Bocci paused again. “I am thinking. And what I am thinking is that you should
put as many parts as you can into your shop. How about we pack this box a bit tighter? Maybe it saves you another trip. Then if you don’t use these, I take them back.”

I hesitated over some of the high-end stuff he was putting in there. Most of our customers wouldn’t need that kind of performance. But I didn’t want to seem rude, either. In the end I peeled him off most of the bills I had with me. Sort of a shock, but I’d seen Dad spend for parts before too. Mr. Bocci printed me a receipt.

“Do check the prices of parts, young Mr. Marriss,” Mr. Bocci warned. “Everything has gone up.
Terribly up
. Don’t cheat yourself. You can carry all of this out to your bicycle, yes-yes?”

I almost said yes-yes back, but I caught myself. “Yes, sir, I’m sure I can.” I stacked the boxes and got under them to lift them from the counter.

“Bike carefully,” Mr. Bocci said. He smiled warmly. “Regards to the Bike Barn!”

I thanked him and went on my way.