Legends of the Ghost Pirates (21 page)

His greasy, long hair hides all the oozing
pimples on his face. His eyes are dark, like a snake, revealing
little about himself. He’s only a little bigger than me, and surely
he’s stronger, but I don’t want to find out. Nobody at school
really knows much about him, and there’s a rumor that he once was
sent to juvenile prison. Nobody really knows for sure.

He flicks an ash and enjoys the look of
terror on my face. For some reason, I can’t speak and it feels like
hours before Owen finally says something. “How much money do you
have on you?”

“None,” I say, wishing I had at least some
change, or something, to give him, just so I can escape without
getting hurt.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, and with one
quick shove I’m on the ground with my bike on top of me. “I really
don’t understand,” he continues. “This happens all the time. I ask
stupid kids like you nicely for some money, and you think I’m so
dumb that if you tell me you have no money, I’ll just go away.
That’s not how this game works.” He stands on my hand, pinning it
in place.

With pain shooting through my hand, my face
scrunches up tight as he presses even harder with his foot.

“Let me ask you again; how much money do you
have on you?”

I’m glad none of my friends can see me,
because I think there may be tears running down my face. At this
point I don’t even care.

“I told you the truth. I don’t have any
money on me,” I say through clenched teeth. Oh, the pain; Owen
Scaggs steps even harder on my hand.

He doesn’t say anything for a second,
grinning hard, and thinking about what I said. “I’m really sorry; I
thought you were lying to me.” He lifts my bike off me. “Here, let
me help you up.” He even puts out his hand to help me off the
ground, but the smirk never leaves his face, which makes me feel
like this isn’t over.

Again we stand facing each other, not saying
anything. He cautiously takes a look around to see if any of the
neighbors are watching.

“This is a really nice
bike,” he says, finally. “What is it
―
a Schwinn? I think I’ll take this
instead of the money. I don’t really like the blue; maybe I’ll
spray paint it black.”

Suddenly, all in one move, Owen Scaggs
swiftly swings his leg over the bike, then sidekicks me to the
stomach. For a second time I hit the ground.

“If you’re smart, you won’t tell anyone I
took your bike. You know I’ll get you if you do. And I might not be
as nice next time.”

Before I can even stand up he’s already
flying down the hill on the bike that I bought with my own money.
What am I going to do now? How am I going to get around? What am I
going to tell my parents? If I’d left my hideout just a little
sooner, I might’ve missed Owen Scaggs altogether. I throw a rock at
the stop sign . . . but miss. “Damn it!”