The Great Bike Rescue Read Free Page B

sighed and shook her head.
    â€œExcept it’s not the actual thief you want. Not if you want to get your bike back,” she said. “You’re not thinking this out properly. People who steal bikes don’t keep them. They—”
    â€œNooooo!”
    The shout came from the back of the store. It was Riley’s voice. It sounded as if he was in pain. We took off at a run. We rounded the corner. Riley didn’t look like he’d been hurt. He was just standing there. No muggers. No pack of wild dogs. No blood. What was wrong?
    And then I saw the bike stand. Riley’s chain lock was wrapped around it, the lock securely fastened.
    But the bike itself was gone.

Chapter Four
    â€œThey figured out the combination. They took my bike and left my chain lock behind. They even did the lock up again!”
    Riley’s bike had been locked and he had a story to tell. If you ever have your bike stolen, that’s the way to do it. Everyone gives you sympathy—the store clerk, the girl at the café, the lady out walking her dog again. The perfect sisters were synchro-biking around the neighborhood and even they felt sorry for Riley. And when he got home, an entire army of people jumped in to help him.
    His brother and cousin drove around looking in parks and alleys in case someone had taken the bike for a joy ride and already dumped it. His dad found the receipt with the bike’s serial number for the police report. His mom called their insurance company. I knew all about it because Riley phoned me just after supper.
    â€œThe police said lots of bikes have gone missing lately,” said Riley. “We’re part of a crime wave. That’s what your friend was trying to tell us.”
    â€œShe’s not my friend. She’s my nemesis,” I said. “Remember?”
    â€œI kind of liked her,” said Riley.
    â€œWhat do you mean you liked her?” I said. “You don’t even know her.”
    â€œShe doesn’t giggle like some girls,” said Riley. “And she’s way more interesting than the perfect sisters.”
    Great. Just great.
    â€œEven a nemesis can be right about some things,” said Riley. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you. My sister came up with a great idea. She’s helping me make lost-and-found posters to put up around the neighborhood.”
    Not lost and found , I wanted to correct him. Stolen and gone . But I didn’t say it. I felt awful about what had happened.
    â€œI’ll help you put them up,” I offered.
    â€œWe’ve got it covered,” said Riley. “It’ll be faster by car.”
    Right. Especially since I’d be walking everywhere from now on.
    â€œI’m pretty sure I’ll get it back,” said Riley. “In a couple of days I’ll hear from the police or someone who reads the posters. I’ll have to ride The Flame to soccer camp for the first couple of days, but after that…” He paused and switched gears. “Hey, are you sure you can’t talk your dad into letting you go to soccer instead of that thing at the pool?”
    â€œNot a chance,” I said. I already knew how to swim, but overly responsible people like my dad make their kids take extra classes in drownproofing and lifesaving. Lessons were Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and Dad wasn’t going to let me get out of them.
    It was my night to clean up after supper. I don’t like doing dishes, but at least you can think about things. I played video games after that. Video games are good for not thinking about things but at the same time allowing ideas to settle into place. By the time I went upstairs to the office to say goodnight, I’d pretty much decided how I felt. I gave Dad an update on the things Riley was doing to try and get his bike back.
    â€œI’m sorry, Levi,” said Dad, turning to look at me. He had that glazed-over look people get after they drink too much coffee and