The Sleepover (14 page)

I hit the hill at a pretty decent speed. As we start down, I have to take my feet off the pedals because they're spinning too fast for my legs. Where are the brakes on these types of bikes?

Up ahead, Jake is crouched low on his skateboard, speeding along, the rope tight around his waist. He seems perfectly comfortable. Maybe this will be okay after all. I start to relax, but then . . .

We hit a small bump. Hedgie rocks for a second, then recovers, then shifts sideways on the platform, sliding toward my edge. Whoaaaaaaa. I wobble on my bike, legs out, pedals spinning, and reach for the hedgehog with my right arm. My left arm is so tight on the handlebar, it might meld to the metal at any second. I push with my right arm just enough . . . to . . . there! I settle Hedgie back into place before bouncing away as I fight to get the bike balanced.

Now Hedgie jerks to the right side, overcorrecting, but staying upright on the thin piece of plywood that forms his platform. I'm pretty sure no one took into account to make it sturdy enough for downhill slalom racing when they were building it. On the other side of me I still can't see Paige, but I can hear her whooping. Leave it to Paige to be enjoying this.
A minute ago even
I
, scaredy-cat Meghan, had been grinning ear to ear at the adventure of escorting a giant hedgehog float across town, but that was before there was actual danger involved.

Now, though?

We're only halfway down the hill, and Hedgie is picking up speed. The rope between the float and Jake starts to sag. He isn't far enough ahead, and it doesn't seem like he could go any faster. Hedgie is gaining on him!

I try desperately to line up my feet with the pedals, but they're spinning around so fast, they make me dizzy. The most I can do is hold on and pray. Or scream. It's possible I've been doing a little of that, too, and I really, really,
really
hope the wind is carrying it away from Jake. There is zero need for him to think I am a wimp.

Although if Jake is thinking about anything right now, it probably has to do with the giant hedgehog nipping at his heels. I can tell he's trying to keep his own balance while using one hand to untie the rope around his waist. The one that attaches him to Hedgie. I scream again as the float goes careening past Jake, whipping him around so he's now facing up the hill. Facing
me
. Instead of pulling the hedgehog float, he's now getting dragged by it. His arms flail as he struggles to stay on the skateboard riding backward.

Without Hedgie between us anymore, I can see Paige
clearly now too. Unlike me, she's managed to keep her feet on the pedals, but they're circling around so fast, her legs must be jelly. She's not whooping anymore; she's concentrating hard on the road and white-knuckling the handlebars.

We're three-quarters of the way down the hill.

If we can just hang on for a little longer, we'll hit the spot where the road levels out, and all will be well. I think. At least Hedgie is sticking to the center of the road, and there are no cars in either direction. It could be worse.

Now we're nearly to the bottom, and I can feel the road evening out. We're going to make it!

The very second that thought forms in my head, I spot it. A giant pothole to put all other potholes to shame. And Jake can't see it because he's skating backward.

I lean low over my handlebars, trying to pick up speed, which is so, so insane, really, but what else can I do? I
have
to try to help, don't I? I'm edging closer to both Jake and the float, keeping my eyes focused on the pothole and on Hedgie. It seems like . . . yes! It definitely looks like it's going to pass right between Hedgie's wheels.

It does! By some miracle, the platform is lined up just so, and the wheels coast over clean asphalt on either side of the hole.

Hedgie is upright. Hooray! Jake gets the rope loose from his waist and detaches himself from the float. He's in the process of spinning forward again. I'm only a few feet away from
him at this point and pretty transfixed by his movements as he tries to regain his balance. He's so graceful. Does that sound weird? Can guys be described as—

Thunk.
My tires dip into another gaping hole I never even saw coming and slam against the front side of it. The bike stops in place. I, however, do
not
stop in place. I go soaring over the handlebars, arms out like I'm some kind of flying squirrel, and catch mega-air, landing on top of a stinking pile of black plastic trash bags someone has placed at the end of their driveway on the side of Hillside Avenue.

Paige screams.

I put my head down, not even caring how smelly it is. I face-planted into garbage! I gingerly move each limb, testing them. Man, I'm going to have one monster of a black-and-blue mark basically everywhere, but at least nothing seems broken. Even so . . . owwwwww!

Paige's bike lands with a crash next to me, and she runs over. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

I roll and squint up at her, just as Jake arrives over her shoulder. I just . . . I can't even.

“Does anything hurt?” he asks, looking worried.

I manage a snort. It might be faster to give him a list of things that
don't
hurt. But I smile to reassure him. “I'm okay,” I croak.

Paige holds out a hand to help me up. I notice Jake trying
not to wrinkle his nose at the trash smell. I shake my head, roll off the pile of garbage, and struggle to my feet. My cheeks are practically burning as I brush off my clothes. Ewww. Also, ouch.

They aren't visible because of my pants, but I can tell my legs are all scraped up. Great. In addition to having one eyebrow, I'm now going to be covered in black-and-blue marks
and
Band-Aids. Supercute.

Paige grimaces and then steps close to subtly pull something from my shoulder. She quickly tosses it behind her but not fast enough. A dirty, squishy banana peel. Was on my shoulder. In front of Jake Ribano. Oh my God, seriously, universe? I stole
one
teeny, tiny (maybe not
so
tiny) hedgehog float, and this is how you punish me?

Jake turns away really fast, but not before I see him push down a laugh. Paige looks ready to lose it too. And then I surprise myself, because
I
do.

I totally let loose . . . and it feels sooo good. It's like all the adrenaline from the ride and the crash just spills out of me in the form of laughter. I did it! I did something totally crazy and so unlike myself and, sure, okay, I ended up all bruised and with garbage covering me in front of the boy I like, but I mean, I'm not seriously hurt or anything. And he's laughing
with
me, not
at
me. I can tell. I know I did crazy stuff last night, but that wasn't exactly within my control. This
was
,
and I
still
said yes. And it was superscary, but also kind of awesome.

A car honks behind us, and immediately I crash back to earth. Hedgie! Where is he? We don't have time for this! Anna Marie is steps away, and we need to get her back.

“Hedgie!” I cry. “How bad is he?”

If Hedgie is ruined, will the band kids try to keep my best friend? What else do Paige and I have to bargain with? Nothing.

Jake points over my shoulder. “Look.”

Even though I don't want to, I take my time turning around because
ouch
! But when I do, there's Hedgie the Hedgehog, arms outstretched in a not-so-menacing pose, sitting pretty and perfect atop his wooden platform at the base of the hill. Mocking me, almost. The car edges around him, the driver leaning out the window to yell something at us.

That just makes me giggle again. Is this what being reckless feels like? No wonder people like it.

I catch Paige's and Jake's eyes before smiling. “Let's finish this thing.” I feel invincible right now.

They let me set the pace—a slow one—and Jake wheels my bike (which, thankfully, I didn't damage) for me as we catch up with the float. He ties the rope around his waist again, balancing his skateboard on his lap, and hops up on my bike to pull Hedgie the last little way to the Dunkin' Donuts
parking lot. Paige gives the platform a push to get the float going and then rolls her bike alongside me as we walk the short distance.

She flashes her phone at me. One minute early. We both smile.

Jake pedals the float behind the back of the store. As soon as Paige and I round the corner a few seconds later, we spy the pack of band kids.

“Hedgie!” Flute Girl cries, racing up to us. She walks the perimeter of the float, carefully inspecting her creation.

The kid with the baton approaches too, smacking it against his palm.

“I have to give you credit. I didn't think you'd get here in time,” he says.

I peer around him, trying to catch sight of Anna Marie.

“Well, we did,” Paige says, her voice hard and tough sounding. “So give her to us right now!”

Baton Boy looks at Flute Girl, who is now holding the rope Jake untied from his waist. She nods. “We're good.”

Flute Girl turns and signals to the boy with the too-short pants. “Bring it over.”

“Hey! That's our friend. She's not an ‘it'!” Paige exclaims.

“Look, I love my phone as much as the next kid, but I don't assign it a gender. To each her own, I guess. Although, technically speaking, half of all ladybugs are male, you know.”

“Ladybugs? What the heck are you talking about?” Jake asks. “Where's Anna Marie?”

I have a bad feeling. A really bad, sinking feeling.

I pat my pockets, checking for my cell phone, my
Ladybug
cell phone, but my pockets are empty. My worst fear is confirmed when the boy in the flood pants tosses a small item to Jake, who catches it one-handed. Sure enough, when he turns it over in his hand, it's a small, red phone with black dots and a total of two buttons: Home and emergency. Jake studies it, total confusion on his face.

“Where's Anna Marie?”
Paige screams, but now it's the band kids turn to look confused.

“Who's Anna Marie?” Flute Girl asks.

P
aige juts out her hip and points a finger at Flute Girl. “Anna Marie! Our friend.
You
said you had her!”

The kid with the baton holds his hands out, palms up. “Look, we don't know anything about any Anna Marie. When we said we had something you'd really want, we meant your cell phone. It was lying in the parking lot in the exact spot Hedgie was stolen from. Must have fallen out of your pocket when you were trying to get the float going. Hey, if I lost mine, my dad would ground me for a month. We kind of figured your parents would too, so it was the perfect bargaining chip.”

“You mean blackmailing chip,” Jake says with a sneer. Suddenly he looks exactly like the tough guy I always thought he was, and I catch my breath. But he's on my side, and I'm extra-glad about that. We need Anna Marie back—whatever it takes.

“Call it what you want. We have our float; you have your phone. All's well that ends well as far as we're concerned. Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to finish decoupaging Hedgie's flower headband before showtime!”

The Hillside Heights kids surround the float and push/pull it out of the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot. We stand helplessly by the Dumpster, watching the giant hedgehog disappear from view. Jake holds up my phone, and I slink over to silently take it from him and place it into my pocket. If it is possible to be any more embarrassed today, I really can't imagine how. Even though I
thought
that was the case just a few minutes ago when I had banana dripping from my shoulder.

“I give up,” I say. “Paige, we have to tell Mrs. Guerrero. Anna Marie could be in real trouble, and we're wasting valuable time.” I put my head in my hands. I'm
d-o-n-e
, done.

Jake kicks at some gravel. “I think she's right. Let's head home. I can fill you in on everything
I
remember from last night, though I gotta warn you, I don't know how helpful it's gonna be.”

Paige answers by dropping her shoulders, clipping her helmet buckle under her chin, and swinging a leg over her bike.

I eye my own (well, technically Jake's) bike. I
know
the old expression that you're supposed to get right back on the horse that throws you and that I had some big epiphany among the trash bags about how much fun it could be to throw caution
to the wind, but the very last thing I want to do right now is ride the Bike of Death home. Plus, my knees are throbbing, and I don't want to think about how much worse pedaling will make them hurt.

Jake seems to read my mind. “I have an idea,” he says before disappearing behind the Dumpster with his skateboard. He returns empty-handed.

“I can come back for that later.” He hops onto the dirt bike and motions for me to place my feet on the two wide, round posts sticking out from either side of the back tire. “Jump on!”

I stare at the bike. Jake says, “It's what they're designed for. Hop on and hold tight.”

Hold tight? Does he mean hold tight to him? Like, put my hands on his shoulders while he pedals?

Um, no. No, no, no, nope, no. Not gonna happen. He's a
boy
!

And
I smell like a trash bag.

I stand helplessly in the parking lot, debating, when a squawk from the drive-through speaker makes me jump.

“One mocha latte with two shots of vanilla please.”

“Thank you. Pull forward.”

Paige's eyes widen at something behind me. “Megs, is that . . . ?”

I only know one person who is addicted to mocha lattes with two shots of vanilla. This? Can't be good.

I tuck my face as far into my bike helmet as I can manage and then put my chin next to my armpit. Turning ever so slightly, I peer around my shoulder at the drive-through window and lose my breath. I only know one person who is addicted to mocha lattes with two shots of vanilla
and
drives a hunter-green Volvo station wagon with a dent in the passenger side from the time she backed into a pump at the gas station.