by Cheree Alsop
“Prove that you’re still their champion,” Jagger urged.
I sighed and spun around to face him. “How do I do that, with so many others out there working to make the Black Rider look bad?”
Jagger gave me his knowing smile. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He went back into his shack.
His confidence in me made me even angrier. I wanted to be the Black Rider. I wanted to protect the town I had come to love. I had bled for Sparrow and almost died saving its citizens.
The words and posters I had heard and read warred in my mind. They had taken everything I had ever done for the town and thrown it away so easily. Sparrow didn’t deserve a hero.
I gave a bitter laugh at the thought. Who ever imagined me as a hero? I was a wreck, a troublemaker, and a negligent brother who let his sister die in a warehouse fire. I wasn’t exactly the hero type.
I turned the key and drove the four-wheeler slowly through the junkyard.
“YOU SURE IT’S SAFE to come in?” I asked through the screen door. Madelyn’s telephone call while I was working had chased away every worry I had. The thought that she was back in Sparrow if only for a few days was enough to keep me smiling as I fumbled through jobs that should have been easy. Jagger eventually sent me home, saying I wouldn’t get anything done worth doing until I saw her. I didn’t protest, knowing it was completely true.
“Come on in,” Madelyn called from a back room.
I stepped inside with a hint of worry that her dad would realize who she was talking to and send me packing again. I paused and stared at the living room in surprise.
Plastic had been spread across the carpet and chairs that were now clustered in the middle of the room. Blue tape lined the walls, and cans of paint sat on the floor already opened and ready for use. I stared at the bright blue, yellow, red, and orange that looked so out of place in the sedate browns and tans of the room.
Madelyn ran into the room and threw her arms around me.
I laughed and spun her in a circle. “I missed you so much, my Maddy!”
“I missed you so much, you have no idea!” she exclaimed.
“I have some idea,” a less-than-enthusiastic voice said from the kitchen doorway.
I glanced over at her father. Mr. West gave me his usual disapproving look. “Kelson,” he said by way of what I figured was meant to be a greeting, but ended up sounding more like an accusation.
“Hello, Mr. West. It’s good to see you again,” I replied, giving him what I hoped was a pleasant smile.
“Is it?” he replied. He turned away before I could answer.
Madelyn pointed at the paints. “We’re going to brighten up this house! We’ll fill it with light, just like Mom always wanted.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she gave me a warm smile. “It would make her so happy.”
“It would,” I agreed.
She pulled me over to the paints and began pouring colors in the pans. “Dad says I can do it however I’d like. I feel like the more colors, the better. Mom always liked colors, and I want it to look like a rainbow. Then I’ll put fresh flowers in here every day.”
I nodded, remembering the tulips, daisies, and roses Madelyn had always clipped for her mother. “She would like that very much.”
Madelyn gave me a huge smile before rising onto her toes and kissing me. “I’ve missed you,” she said, her lips brushing mine.
I looked down at her, safe in her hazel eyes that saw all of me and accepted me for who I was. Looking at my reflection in her gaze made me appear whole instead of broken, strong instead of lost. I wished everyone could see themselves in Madelyn’s eyes. It would give them something to believe in.
A throat cleared. I backed away from Madelyn with an embarrassed smile. “I’m ready to get to work, sir,” I told Mr. West.
He grunted. “Better be. She’s got so many colors picked out, we might never finish.”
Madelyn laughed. “Oh, Dad. You know you’re going to enjoy this as much as I am.”
A smile lifted the corners of his lips. He couldn’t keep up an angry front with his daughter. “I am,” he replied. He glanced at me and the smile fell. He picked up a paintbrush and grabbed a can of yellow paint. “I’m going to start in the kitchen.”
Madelyn took a roller and dipped it in the pan. Orange paint dripped onto the carpet when she lifted it. “Uh, Dad,” she called over her shoulder. “We might need new carpet.”
“Great,” he muttered from the kitchen.
I dabbed up what I could and pushed plastic beneath the pan to catch any other drips.
Madelyn gave me an approving smile. “I knew I called the right guy.”
I grinned. “I figured you just dialed my number by mistake.”
She laughed and pushed the roller up the wall. We both stared in shock at the bright orange color that looked out of place in the plain room. A laugh of pure enjoyment escaped Madelyn as she ran the roller over the wall in a variety of directions. It looked like a huge orange flower.
“Pretty,” I said with a hint of doubt in my voice.
“Come on,” Madelyn encouraged.
“Your dad already hates me. I don’t want to give him more fodder.”
Madelyn laughed. “You know you’re a farmer when you use a word like ‘fodder.’”
I chuckled and carried the can of orange paint and a brush over to her. I crouched and began carefully painting along the taped edges.
“I bought my mom a calf,” I said casually.
Madelyn smiled down at me. “That was sweet. What did she say?”
“Well, she liked it, but I think she liked who delivered it even more.”
Interest showed on Madelyn’s face. “Who was that?”
“Deputy Addison.”
At her surprise, I gave a wry smile. “Someone shot the calf’s mother, so it was an orphan. I figured bringing it home to Mom would make her feel more like she fit in to Sparrow. When I told Deputy Addison I was going to buy it, he surprised me by paying for the calf and then offering to deliver it for me.” I gave a self-suffering sigh. “It was only when he delivered it that I realized he had an ulterior motive.”
Madelyn smiled at the thought. “He’s sweet on your mom?”
I nodded. “That’s the happiest I’ve seen Mom in such a long time. I’ve hated seeing her so alone.”
Madelyn’s gaze flicked behind me. I glanced back and my heart fell at the sight of Mr. West leaning against the door frame. I immediately regretted my words about Mom being alone. I could only imagine the loneliness Mr. West was experiencing after losing his own wife to sickness.
“Good for her,” he said, surprising me completely. “She deserves to be happy.” I nodded until he concluded, “Especially with a son like you.”
“Oh, Dad,” Madelyn scolded. “Kelson’s a great guy.”
“What about all these reports of the Black Rider ravaging stores and destroying the fruits of people’s hard-earned labors?” Mr. West pressed.
My chest tightened at his words.
“I told you he wouldn’t do that,” Madelyn replied. She looked at me, her gaze begging me to tell her she was right.
I nodded. “I would have explained everything to you earlier, but I didn’t know you got Sparrow’s news at your aunt’s. There are copycat riders trying to ruin the Black Rider’s name.”
“Convenient,” Mr. West said.
I ignored him and told Madelyn, “They dress like me and crash the stores. One even killed a cow. That’s why I bought the calf for Mom.”
“Destroying a person’s livelihood is damage enough,” Mr. West said.
I nodded. “The sheriff is following a few leads, but we won’t know for sure until he catches one of them.”
Mr. West nodded. “You better hurry. People are turning against the Black Rider pretty quickly.”
I stifled a sigh. “It’s all right. I’m done being the Black Rider.”
Mr. West’s eyebrows rose. He was silent for a few seconds, then it looked a
s though he spoke against his will. “Sparrow needed the Black Rider.”
“And apparently they don’t anymore,” I replied. “My usefulness has worn off.”
He surprised me by shaking his head. “Not if there are guys out there destroying stores and robbing gas stations.”
I swirled a paint stick in a can of blue paint. It took all my focus to keep my voice even when I replied, “People have made it plenty clear that they are through with the Black Rider.”
“Sometimes it’s the loud ones who have the most fear,” Mr. West replied.
I stared at him. His words ate away at the carefully constructed wall of indifference I had erected around the thought of not being the Black Rider anymore. “I thought you didn’t like the Black Rider,” I said cautiously.
He shook his head. “I just don’t like the Black Rider dating my daughter.” He turned back to the kitchen without waiting for my reply.
“Sparrow still needs their hero,” Madelyn said. “Promise me you’ll ride again, if you’re careful.”
I smiled. “I’m not very careful.”
She laughed. “Then promise me you’ll think of me.”
“I always think of you,” I replied.
Madelyn gave me a hug. Paint dripped from her roller onto my shirt. She laughed and danced back before I could seek my revenge with the paintbrush.
I FOLLOWED MADELYN INTO the gymnasium. Because morp was the reverse of prom, everything had been done completely backwards from the last dance. Instead of a castle theme, the gymnasium had been made to look like a night under the stars. Giant cardboard star cutouts had been spray-painted gold and silver and hung from the ceiling. Dark blue paper covered the walls with chalk stars drawn on it. Everyone wore regular clothes instead of dresses and suits, and a DJ mixed songs in one corner. The ball atmosphere had been changed to a casual night of mingling and dancing.
“This is great,” Madelyn said.
I spotted Cassidy’s group near the DJ. Magnum held Cassidy’s hand, and she laughed at something he said. He looked positively thrilled to be with her.
“It’s awesome,” I agreed. I led Madelyn to a refreshment table. A huge bowl of different types of cereal, complete with smaller bowls, gallons of milk, and plenty of spoons sat on one table. The other held waffles with whipped cream, strawberries, and syrup. A variety of juices sat on a round table nearby, which was guarded by two teachers with stern expressions.
Madelyn laughed. “They definitely went with the opposite of prom.”
“Isn’t it great?” Cassidy exclaimed, giving Madelyn a swift hug. “It’s so good to see you here!”
Magnum followed close behind. He caught my gaze and mouthed “thank you” before turning away with Cassidy to the refreshment tables.
“When I suggested it, I didn’t think they would actually use my cereal idea,” Cassidy exclaimed. “I love cereal!”
“Me too,” Magnum replied. “Great idea.” He handed Cassidy and Madelyn a bowl of cereal. “Do you want milk on that? Wait, I’ve got a better idea.” He grabbed the whipped cream canister from the other table and proceeded to spray a huge mound on top of Madelyn’s cereal, followed by Cassidy’s. “What do you think?”
The girls eyed each other doubtfully.
“Don’t judge it until you try it,” Magnum rebuked them. “My brothers would eat that in heartbeat.” Cassidy offered him a spoonful. He ate it, then made a face. “All right, so my brothers are freaks. Let me make it right.” He took both bowls, dumped the contents in the garbage, and started over.
Magnum struggled with the tab to open one of the milk containers. Cassidy eventually took over, and Magnum gave in with a good-natured laugh.
I glanced out the side door. It had been propped open to let the cool evening breeze flow through the gymnasium. Someone was out there arguing with several other people. A strange feeling swept over me.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Madelyn.
She nodded, trying not to laugh as Magnum and Cassie argued about which cereal was best.
I ducked out the door, then stopped for a minute to let my eyes adjust to the darkness.
“It’s against the rules,” a man said. I recognized the voice as Principal Dawson’s.
“Aw, come on. Just for a little while.”
“We promise we’ll be nice.”
“Consider it social networking.”
There were four of them, and it looked like they had graduated a few years ago. They dwarfed Mr. Dawson, who stood close to my height of six feet. I wondered how farm country seemed to produce giants. It must be all the fresh air and hard work. Maybe I would get taller.
“You know I can’t allow that,” Principal Dawson argued.
“Maybe you don’t get a say in it,” replied the leader, who had a buzzed haircut. “You’re always urging us to take opportunities as they come. I can’t think of a better one than this.”
Three of them made their way to the door. I might have been done as the Black Rider, but I couldn’t stand bullies. I crossed my arms.
“If Principal Dawson says you can’t come in, you can’t come in,” I said levelly.
The three stopped in surprise. The leader squinted at me. I was silhouetted by the light from inside the gymnasium.
“I’d get out of our way, if I were you,” the leader recommended.
“If I were you, I would leave,” I replied.
The leader glanced back at Principal Dawson. “What is this? You running some sort of youngster security? A midget protection squad?” The others echoed his laughter.
“Let me deal with this,” the principal said. He was squinting into the shadows too, trying to make out who I was. “I don’t need any students getting hurt.”
“We wouldn’t hurt anyone,” the leader argued. “We just wanted to see the fresh batch of hottie senior girls, maybe make a few new connections, if you know what I mean.”
“What makes you think they’d want to see you?” I replied.
His jaw clenched. The toe of his right foot scuffed forward, warning me that he was about to act.
I ducked his punch and returned one that caught him on the ribs, followed by a left to the jaw. He staggered back. Surprise showed on his face. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled. He swung again.
I dodged to the left, jabbed at his ribs again, and followed with a punch to the left kidney. When he turned, I slugged him in the stomach. He doubled over. I drove an elbow into his back and he crashed to the ground. He climbed to his feet and rushed at me. I let his momentum bowl me over, then kicked out and sent him over my head. I jumped up and slammed a fist against his nose and mouth.
The two closest to us stared in amazement.
“Get him!” the leader commanded, his words twisted in pain as he clutched his face.
I blocked a punch, blocked a kick, and answered with a heel-palm to the first man’s throat. I spun back and swept the second man’s legs from under him. When he hit the ground, I drove an elbow into his stomach. He gave a cry of pain and curled into a fetal position.
The man clutching his throat tried to attack again. I ducked under his wild grab, punched him twice in the stomach, then caught him behind the ear with a right haymaker that laid him out on the pavement.
The leader was struggling to rise. I grabbed the shoulder of his shirt and held up a fist.
“This can go two ways,” I explained. “I can either knock you out like your friend there, or you can apologize to Principal Dawson and leave the school grounds. Either way, I’m calling the cops so they know to patrol the school and keep the students safe until the dance is over.”
The leader kept silent.
I shook him. “Which is it?” I demanded in a tone that left no room for argument.
“Apologize,” he said, spitting blood onto the pavement from his smashed lips.
I let him go and he gingerly rose to his feet. He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “S—sorry, Principal Dawson. We’ll leave the students alone.”
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At the leader’s look, the other two muttered the same promise. They picked up their friend and carried him to a truck in the parking lot. After tossing him not-so-gently in the back, they drove away, squealing their tires as they gunned the truck out onto the road.
Principal Dawson was silent as he watched them leave. I was tempted to duck back into the gymnasium, but the way my knuckles throbbed, I could tell they were bleeding. I needed to get cleaned up so no one inside would ask what I had been up to. I started along the edge of the building.
“Wait,” Principal Dawson called.
I didn’t speak as he caught up to me. If he saw me, I knew my cover would be blown. No one in Sparrow fought the way I did. I couldn’t help it. Seeing someone outnumbered and in potential danger chased away my common sense.
I shoved the main door open with my shoulder and made my way down the hall toward the bathroom. The principal followed without a word. I glanced at my knuckles. My left hand was just bruised, but my right knuckles had split from the leader’s teeth. I shook my head and lifted a hand to the door.
The principal reached around me and pulled it open. I stepped inside. I crossed to the sink and stuck my right hand under the faucet. The cold water turned pink as it carried away the blood.
I met the principal’s gaze in the mirror.
“Kelson Brady,” he said in a quiet voice.
I gave him a humorless smile. “Not who you were expecting?”
He leaned against the bathroom wall. As if he realized what he was doing, he stood up, brushed a hand down his suit to straighten it, and let out a loud breath. “No, not who I was expecting. You said you weren’t the Black Rider.”
I shrugged and used a paper towel to scrub my damaged knuckles. I didn’t know what sort of diseases I could get from a post-high school bully. “You said the FBI was looking for me.”
He gave a small chuckle. “Not really grounds for honesty.”
Meeting his gaze in the mirror again, I said, “I didn’t want to lie to you.”
