Small Town Superhero Box Set: Complete Series

by Cheree Alsop

  Principal Dawson pushed through the crowd that surrounded us. His eyes narrowed slightly when he noticed me, and then he turned to Magnum. “Did you do this?” he asked the Bullet leader with a voice that was full of camaraderie instead of accusation.

  Magnum looked back at me with a look of helpless shock.

  I failed to keep the grin from my face and hid it with my hands as I cupped my bleeding nose. “I slipped, Principal Dawson. Magnum was just helping me to the bathroom.”

  The principal nodded as if he had expected as much. “Carry on,” he said with a nod. He walked away and I heard him mutter to himself, “And to think I thought that boy could be the Black Rider.”

  Magnum grabbed my shoulder, hefted me to my feet, and steered me toward the restrooms. Students gave way in a wide swath as the Bullet leader walked through. When the door shut behind us and the way was clear, I collapsed against the wall laughing.

  “What is your deal?” Magnum demanded. “You’re bleeding all over the place!”

  I couldn’t explain to myself why I was laughing, let alone him. The whole situation just struck me as hilarious.

  “You’re insane,” he said, shoving a handful of paper towels at me.

  I grabbed them and held the pile against my nose. It throbbed, but I didn’t care. “I guess that clears me from the FBI.”

  “What are you talking about?” Magnum demanded. He ran another handful of paper towels under the faucet, then handed them to me as well.

  I let the laughter die away and used the rags to wipe the blood from my nose. I met Magnum’s gaze in the mirror. “The other day the principal asked if I was the Black Rider because I missed school the day of the attack.”

  His eyes widened. “What did you say?”

  “I told him I had the flu, and Aunt Lauren backed me up when he called her.”

  “He called her?” he repeated incredulously.

  I nodded. “Guess he was getting close.” I indicated my nose. “Now he thinks I’m a wimp.”

  “You are a wimp,” Magnum grumbled, grabbing another handful of paper towels.

  “I beat you up plenty of times,” I retorted.

  “You throw a football worse than a girl,” he said.

  We glared at each other in the mirror for a few seconds, then we both started to laugh. “You looked like an idiot,” he said. “I mean, you actually ran into my fist.”

  “I tripped,” I protested, but the thought brought a smile to my face. I had been captain of the MMA club in my California school, yet I bloodied my nose by slipping into someone’s fist. My club members would be proud.

  Magnum shook his head, but he couldn’t keep from smiling either. “I guess no one will think you’re the Black Rider now.”

  I TOOK MY USUAL seat on the bus and was sinking into melancholy at Madelyn’s absence when Cassidy surprised me by breaking the rules to sit next to me. The bus driver had his rules laminated and taped to the back of his seat. Seniors sat in the last four rows, the rest of the high schoolers took the next four, then the middle school, followed by the elementary closest to the driver. He was very strict about the consequences of breaking his rules, which usually resulted in a glare fierce enough to send the miscreant back to the appropriate seat.

  This time, however, when I looked at the driver in the mirror, he merely rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the road.

  “I brought him some of Mom’s raspberry preserves for Christmas,” Cassidy explained at my questioning look.

  I sat back and propped my knees on the seat in front of me much the same way Madelyn had done when I first noticed her.

  “Kel, you’ve got to get Magnum to come to my party,” Cassidy said before I could ask why she was there.

  I let my head fall back against the seat. “You too?” I glanced at her. “You’re not supposed to know about the party.”

  “Like Sandy can keep a secret,” she said. “Besides, it’s gonna be the biggest party of the school year. Everyone wants to be there.”

  “That’ll make your dad happy,” I said, looking out the window. Every student who showed up would drive the fact deeper that his little girl was growing up. A part of me agreed that Cassidy was too little to be sixteen.

  “Smile,” she said, looking at my reflection in the window. “The world’s not such a gloomy place. I’ll bet you can invite Madelyn. In fact, I would love for her to be there, so you’d better.”

  “I’m planning on it,” I said quietly.

  “Then will you invite Magnum?” The pleading in her voice made it worse.

  I shook my head without looking at her. “The last thing your dad needs to see on your sixteenth birthday is you with a boy two years older than you, not to mention the leader of the Bullets, the biggest bully in Sparrow. I won’t do it.”

  She was quiet for a moment, but when I didn’t budge, she pushed my shoulder. “You’re such a jerk, Kelson.” She stood up and stormed back to sit by Sandy. I could hear her heavily vocalized disappointment from my seat. I set my forehead against the window and watched the world rush by in a blur.

  I HELPED UNCLE RICK pitch hay to the cows, the one task he felt I could complete without either screwing it up or messing up my healing knife wound. I gritted my teeth against the pull of the stitches as I used the pitchfork, determined not to let him know it hurt. I levered alfalfa from the bed of the truck to the cows strung out in a long line to eat the piles of hay I made in the field.

  When the last forkful was pitched, Uncle Rick drove slowly across the uneven ground and paused by the gate long enough for me to fasten the wire across the pole, then climb gingerly back on the bed. Jake rode beside me and panted happily as the truck pulled onto the road and headed back toward the house.

  I set a hand on the hood of the truck and rode with my eyes closed, standing with my face in the wind and the truck bed swaying beneath my feet. I remembered seeing Cassidy ride the same way my first time to the farm. I now understood the peace of the familiar sun setting against my eyelids, the evening breeze rushing through my hair and trying to sweep the straw cowboy hat from my head, and the scent of alfalfa fields and sunflowers coloring the air.

  When we pulled into the driveway, I was surprised to see Magnum’s truck there. He waved and Uncle Rick waved back before going into the house.

  “About time you got here,” Magnum said. “I stopped by the junkyard and Jagger said you needed to go over there. He wouldn’t say why.”

  I climbed into Magnum’s truck and he turned back the way he had come. The tension inside the vehicle was palpable. I finally sighed and leaned my head against the window. “Cass hates me because of you.”

  I could feel Magnum’s complete attention on me, but didn’t look at him. “Why?” he asked in a voice that was touched with hope and worry at the same time.

  “Because she asked me to invite you to her party and I told her I wouldn’t do it.”

  I wondered if he would stop and demand for me to leave his truck or punch me without warning. I doubted either of us or the truck would hold up in a brawl inside the tiny cab.

  Instead, he waited in silence. I looked over to see a smile on his face as he looked out the front window.

  “Why are you so happy?” I asked.

  “She wants me there,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. “But I told her no.”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. She wants me there.” He looked at me with more excitement and happiness in his expression that I had ever seen. “She likes me.”

  “She’s sixteen tomorrow.”

  He shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter. She’s two years younger than me. You think it makes a difference now, but I’ve heard that when we get older, those two years don’t matter at all.”

  I knew he was right. My mom and dad had been four years apart, and it didn’t matter. What mattered was the finances that tore through their marriage and my dad left without looking back. Aunt Lauren was definitely younger than Uncle Rick, but the look
in her eyes when they were together showed there was still love between them.

  It wasn’t the age difference so much as the fact that we were talking about Magnum. I had seen him shove kids into lockers because he thought they were new students and needed to fear him. I had seen him terrorize the drama department by throwing paint all over their sets. I had seen him conspire with gang leaders to establish Sparrow as a center for drug trade.

  I had also seen him confront the same gang leaders to protect the town when the situation escalated out of control. I was there when he almost got killed trying to pull over a semitruck loaded with stolen goods. He had single-handedly attempted to take down the trio of gas station robbers who evaded our sheriff.

  I ran a hand through my hair and rested my head back against the seat. He had saved my life by guiding me home on the motorcycle that night. With the blood loss from the knife wound, I shouldn’t have ridden and I was too stubborn and worried about the sheriff’s warning to go to the hospital. The red light of his bike was the only thing that helped me survive the trip to the Ashbys’. Without him, I would have wrecked and probably bled to death unnoticed on the side of some farm road.

  “I want you to come to the party,” I said quietly.

  He turned and stared at me. “What?”

  I met his gaze. “You’re a good guy, Magnum. I wouldn’t mind it if you dated my cousin.” His eyes widened and a smile spread across his face. I lifted a hand. “Granted, that doesn’t mean Uncle Rick won’t kill you, so take it slow.”

  “I will,” he said quickly. “Don’t worry.” He surprised me by holding out a hand. “Thanks, Kelson.”

  I shook it uncertainly. “It’s not like I have any say in this.”

  He shrugged. “Just the same, I wouldn’t date her if you said no.”

  “Seriously?” I studied him.

  He nodded. “Bro code, man. It just wouldn’t be cool.”

  I sat back. “Thanks.”

  He pulled into the junkyard and we both fell silent at the sight of the sheriff’s truck and another vehicle in front of Jagger’s shack. The mood thickened when we saw them wheeling the motorcycles inside the second truck. Jagger and the sheriff watched together from the porch.

  “What’s going on?” Magnum asked quietly.

  “I’m not sure,” I said as he stopped. “But I’m going to find out.”

  The sheriff smiled and pushed his hat back at the sight of us. “Hello, boys.”

  “What’s the deal, Sheriff?” I asked, not in the mood to play around.

  “How’s your side?” he countered.

  “Healing,” I replied. “What’s going on? Why are you taking our bikes?”

  His deputy who loaded the motorcycles paused at my tone, but the sheriff waved for him to continue. “Well, the FBI is getting a bit too close in their investigation. I know you spoke to Principal Dawson and that’ll help for a brief while, but they’re becoming too familiar with the Black Rider’s movements. We have word that they’re planning to raid the factory on Thursday because they heard the Black Rider races students there.”

  “So we’re finished?” Magnum asked.

  The sheriff tipped his hat in the Bullet leader’s direction. “Hello, Magnum. Pleasure to see you again.”

  I could tell Magnum was becoming as frustrated by the sheriff’s evasive charade as I was. I cut in before Magnum could reply with something that would put us both in hot water. “I’m not worried about the FBI,” I said. “I’ll turn myself in when Sparrow is safe.”

  Everyone stared at me. I met the sheriff’s gaze. “But I’m not done here. With the Brown Hawk gang terrorizing the school, there’s no saying if the Verdos will be close behind. I want to be ready.”

  He nodded. “We figured as much, so Deputy Addison and I got a little creative.”

  “What do you mean?” Magnum demanded.

  The sheriff refused to let the Bullet leader’s tone bother him. He waved a hand nonchalantly toward the loaded motorcycles and the deputy who now watched us with interest. “We figured if we gave the FBI your motorcycles, that would give you a break for a while.”

  “While we do what?” Magnum asked.

  “Ride in style,” the deputy piped in. An embarrassed grin spread across his face at the sheriff’s look. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” He held out a hand. “I’ve been a fan of the Black Rider for quite some time.”

  I shook his hand and noted the questioning look on his face. “What?”

  His grin turned sheepish. “I guess with everything you’ve done, I thought you’d be older.”

  Magnum sputtered a laugh behind me, but I took the deputy’s words seriously. “Wisdom and recklessness sometimes look the same.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. He took his hat off and ran a hand through his dark brown hair before pushing the hat back on and exchanging a glance with the sheriff. “You were right.”

  “About what?” Magnum asked.

  “He’s a sharp one,” the man said. Magnum gave a huff of disappointment.

  “Yeah, but at this rate he won’t live to see nineteen,” Sheriff Bowley countered.

  “Ha!” Magnum said, then his face took on a slightly disturbed look as though he realized what the sheriff had just said.

  The words hit too close to home. “You said something about riding in style?” I pressed.

  “I’s wonderin’ when ya’d remember tha’ part,” Jagger said from the porch. He pointed his crowbar cane toward the back of the shed. “Go see fur yurself.”

  Magnum and I exchanged a look. Then we walked around the shack to the back. We tried to keep calm and collected, but we were eager to see what waited for us. By the time we reached the lean-to, we were at a run and jostling each other to get there first. I could hear the sheriff and deputy laughing behind us.

  Magnum and I stopped and stared at what the lean-to revealed. My heart rose in my throat and I found it hard to swallow. It was a strange reaction to the motorcycles in front of us, but I found myself looking at the exact make and model of motorcycle I had left in California.

  I reached out a hand and touched the headlight of a new CBR painted black to match the Er-6ns we had just let go. The paint glowed in the light of Jagger’s rigged porch lights instead of the dull sheen of flat black we were used to.

  “This is more like it,” Magnum said. He walked into the lean-to and grabbed the helmet hanging from the back footrest. “Come on, Black Rider. Let’s try them out.”

  The name propelled me forward. I climbed onto the other motorcycle and picked up the helmet. It shone like the bike, the dark gleam of water illuminated by the midnight moon. I pulled the gloves and riding gear from my backpack and saw Magnum do the same. When we were ready, we grinned at each other before lowering our dark-tinted visors. I turned the key and pressed the starter. The engine rumbled to life. I smiled at the memories that came flooding back.

  I used to lead the pack, our little rag-tag group of riders on bullet bikes, converted dirt bikes, and a few old-school Harleys. Zoey rode on the back of Jeff’s motorcycle, her pink helmet bright compared to the fierce reds and blacks of the guys. We left all our cares behind as we followed the winding path along the coast. The ocean sometimes lapped at the shore feet below the road, and other times jutted up with waves of spray that caught the setting sunlight in rainbow hues. The hum of the motorcycles told of power and speed. We could go anywhere and do anything. We felt unstoppable.

  “Ready?” Magnum asked, bringing me back.

  I let out a slow breath and nodded. I eased the bike forward and smiled when it moved faster than I intended; it felt as if I rode a horse chomping eagerly at the bit. I laughed even though I was the only one who could hear it above the sound of the engine.

  Uncle Rick would be proud of the farm boy he had turned me into; the California kid of my past would never have compared a motorcycle to an animal. My experience back then had been limited to a few wild birds and the random mouse that fell into my garbage ca
n and Zoey made me set free behind the apartment building.

  “Now I believe you’re the Black Rider,” Deputy Addison said.

  Sheriff Bowley had his arms crossed in front of his chest and nodded appreciatively. “Those should keep you busy for a while.”

  “Bu’ not outta trouble,” Jagger commented. “Ya wearin’ the vests?”

  “Always.”

  He gave me his usual salute. “Take care a yurselves.”

  “Will do,” I said. “Thanks, Sheriff, Deputy.”

  They both nodded. The sheriff stepped back with a proud look on his face as though he was personally responsible for the Black Rider. I revved the engine and shot out into the rapidly falling darkness. The headlight of Magnum’s motorcycle reflected in my rearview mirror. He pushed the bike, attempting to surge ahead. I shifted and sped forward, keeping in front of him as we sped along the roads at speeds well over sheriff-approved levels.

  I grinned beneath the helmet. Every bike was born different. Each had its own personality brought not just by mechanics and framework, but also by something that felt like a soul instilled in the machine itself. My last bike was tame compared to this one. The beast beneath me roared and ate up the road hungrily. It lunged with a roll of the throttle, and protested when I slowed. The bike I rode was born angry, and I liked it.

  MANGUM MOTIONED THAT HE needed to go home. I followed him back to the junkyard and waited as he traded his motorcycle for his truck. When he left, I headed into town and, on a whim, parked in front of the pizza house.

  When I pushed the door open and walked inside wearing my Black Rider outfit, all talking ceased from the students and employees inside the tiny restaurant. I felt every eye on me as I made my way to the counter.

  “Wh—what can I get you?” a skinny blond-haired boy asked. He held up a notepad as though jotting down my order was the most important thing in his life.

  “A large ham and pineapple, and a large pepperoni,” I replied, trying not to smile even though he couldn’t see through my visor.

  “Th—that would b—be one large ham and p—pineapple, and one large pe—pepperoni,” the boy repeated.