By Rita Feutl
Nick simply desires to change the television his sister by chance broke sooner than their foster mom and dad discover. To pay off the debt, the sixteen-year-old has to scouse borrow motorcycles, holiday them down and rebuild them to promote. however the debt and the violence continue to grow. Even Nick’s personal liked fixed-gear bike—the fixie he equipped along with his dad—is up for grabs.
Should Nick recruit more youthful “runts” to do his soiled paintings? may still he give you the chance to offer again the motorbike of the lovable woman on the diner now that he type of likes her? and the way can Nick guard his little sister from the creepy man with the colors?
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Extra resources for Bike thief
It lands in my lap. She lunges for it at the same time I do. We bump heads. At the next table, Earl is laughing so hard he’s wheezing. Mandy scuttles into the kitchen. I swipe the ice cube onto the floor. “Hey, Ida! Your niece has a thing for dumping stuff into customers’ laps,” Earl calls out. Mandy’s wail drifts out through the swinging kitchen door. Earl tries to catch my eye. Instead, I wipe up the last bit of chili with a piece of bread. Delicious. The kitchen door swings open. Mandy comes out, slaps my bill on the table and turns.
The boy looks me over, then Alex and Stevie. “I’m Danny. ” I pull the keys from my jacket pocket and unlock the door. This is turning into a real operation—that TV will be paid off in no time. I push my bike in and turn on the light. ” Alex and Stevie inspect everything. They talk eagerly about the bikes they want to build. Danny slouches against the door, his hands in his pockets. “So where do we start? ” Alex drags over an aluminum frame. Danny snorts. ” Alex drops the frame and goes up to the bigger kid.
While she goes to find them, I attach the TV cables and press the remote. The screen shimmers on, good as new. I wait for Katie. The crayon trick is my dad’s. An image of him in our old garage flashes into my mind, and suddenly I’m almost drowning under a huge wave of…what? Homesickness? Sadness? I close my eyes and wait out the wave. ” Katie thrusts something into my hands. I open my eyes. Her crayon case is jammed with junk. I dig through the tiny erasers, pencil crayons, grizzly-bear buttons, broken earrings and bits of paper.
Bike thief by Rita Feutl