Free Running Wide Open by Lisa Nowak

can break them, Cody.” The memory of it made me feel like I’d been caught walking buck-naked through the school auditorium.
    I made it about a quarter mile downstream before I realized it was time to be getting back. A couple places looked promising for a hangout—a cluster of boulders, forming giant stepping-stones down the bank, and a downed tree, which jutted out into the river. Even though things were looking up a little with my uncle, it was a relief to know there was someplace I could escape to.
    As I neared the trailer park, the curses and shouts of a fight overpowered the whisper of the Willamette. I scrambled up the bank to see the kid who’d been playing under the cottonwood getting the snot beat out of him by a guy as big as me. With as much trouble as I’d been in, I thought twice about getting involved. Somebody else’s fight is somebody else’s problem. But I hate bullies. Being on the left side of the bell curve for sheer bulk, I’d gotten clobbered too many times when I was younger.
    The big kid had the little one backed up against a tree. Most of the real damage had already been done. Now he was just tormenting him, poking him in the shoulder and ribs with two rigid fingers to emphasize his threats.
    “Hey, leave him alone,” I said.
    The bully, gripping the bloody T-shirt of his victim, shot me a disbelieving look. “You gonna make me?”
    “Only if you ask nice.”
    The kid sneered, shifting his weight slightly to include me in his circle of menace. With prey-like instinct, the little guy took advantage of his distraction and pulled a Houdini.
    “Son of a bitch!”
    I should’ve guessed that, deprived of his quarry, the bully would turn his aggression on me. Still, when he head-butted me in the ribs, the attack caught me off guard. Rage soared up like a summer squall as we hit the ground, floundering in the dirt. I unloaded on the kid, slamming my fist into his cheek, his ribs, his eye. Shouts filled the air around us, but they barely registered. The bully got in a few good licks before I felt someone pulling me away.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
    Race’s voice cut through my fury. The bully, restrained by another guy, was just close enough to catch me in the shin with the toe of his Nike. I lunged against my uncle’s grip but wasn’t able to break free.
    “Damn it, kid, lay off!” Race shouted.
    “I didn’t start it!”
    “I don’t care. That’s no excuse for beating up a twelve-year-old!”
    Race’s words drained the rest of the fight out of me.
    “He’s twelve ?” I’d been getting my ass kicked by a sixth-grader? I shook off Race’s grip and wiped my nose with the back of my hand. It came away bloody. Humiliation rolled over me in a cold, sick wave. Then I saw Kasey and discovered a whole new meaning for the word.
    “Get back to the trailer,” Race said. The disappointment in his eyes hit harder than anything that stupid kid had thrown at me. How could he be so ready to believe the worst?
    “But—”
    “Now!”
    He was just like everyone else. Washing his hands of me, not even waiting for an explanation. The crappiest thing about it was that I should’ve known better. I’d sold my soul for a few karate lessons, and he’d wadded it up and tossed it in the trash.
    “Piss off!” I said.
    “Cody—”
    Turning toward the river, I ran.

Chapter 6
    The path along the river had been tricky enough to navigate while walking. At a full run, I tripped over rocks and lurched down the muddy bank, soaking myself to the knees. None of that slowed me down. Neither did Race shouting my name, or the dampness in my eyes that meant I was close to losing control in a way I hadn’t since I was little.
    Panting hard, I finally collapsed against the rough bark of a Douglas fir, steeling myself against tears that I’d be damned if I let fall. I cursed myself for being so weak. Much as I’d scorned Race for his softness, it was me who was the real wimp. Mom used