Free The Puzzle Master by Heather Spiva Page B

walking her dog was around, and she hadn’t even noticed them . “You sure you want to do this?”
    Marshall swallowed hard, trying to control his breathing. His lungs were burning, and his cough was almost uncontrollable. But he had too. He had to control it, or he wouldn’t be able to ride; he’d be the clown of the school.
    He thought about his time with Iris, out in the back yard, swinging underneath the tree. The cool breeze, her laughter filtering up through the tree like bubbles. And suddenly, the tickle in his throat backed down; his lungs didn’t feel quite so tight. He looked at the brothers. They were watching him think.
    “Okay,” said Marshall. “I’m ready.”
    The three of them rode out to the start of the hill, in the middle of the intersection.
    “Ready,” said Benton, “Set,” and they looked at each other.
    “I’ll see you at the bottom,” growled Marshall.
    “Go!”
    The boys took off down Devil’s Hill like birds dive-bombing their predators. The road was smooth; every bump they used to have to deal with was gone. It was like ice-skating; almost tranquil. It felt like they could go a thousand miles an hour and still not feel a bump or groove.
    Marshall didn’t have the fastest bike. Brewster and Benton had both gotten new bikes last Christmas; top-of-the-line sports bikes at that. Marshall’s bike was Mason’s hand-me-down from five years ago.
    He leaned into the bike, back parallel with the road and the bike. His hands gripped the bar, unwilling to yield to anything. He was going to get to the bottom of the hill if it was the last thing he did.
    He thought about going to Luke’s at four, and dearly hoped he didn’t hurt himself. No one gets road rash that badly from playing out in the front yard, and his parents would know in an instant he’d gone down Devil’s Hill. Benton moved ahead of them. Then Brewster moved ahead. They were moving too fast to pedal. All they could do now was steer and pray they didn’t hit anything or anyone.
    Marshall leaned in even more, so that his head was almost below the handlebars. He couldn’t get too low, or he’d lose control of the bars and be tossed off . The wind was in his face, pushing him back and whistling over his ears. He wished he’d had his sunglasses. Bugs smashed into his mouth, his lips. He wiped them off and ignored the smell of fish food.
    The end of the hill was near; they were heading into the neighborhood. They had to pass Anna Caplowsky’s house for the race to end. It was at the start of the neighborhood, but far enough away so that most people couldn’t see who it was coming down the hill.
    Marshall began to laugh. Brewster leaned in and howled. Benton laughed and looked back at them. But that was his last and biggest mistake. Because when he looked away, it steered his bike away, so that he almost ran into a parked car. He slammed on his brakes so hard, that the sound of squealing rubber and metal grated their ears. Brewster and Marshall didn’t slow down. Benton deserved to lose.
    They sailed past Anna’s house, past Jerry’s house, and flew by the cookie cutter homes. Brewster and Marshall were neck and neck—dead even. And just like that, the race was over. Benton, way behind them now, scowled at them and then pedaled to his house.
    Marshall waved to Brewster, and that was it. The race was over; nothing more to be said. Marshall was happy. He’d finally tied one of the twins, and not only that, he managed his asthma. He’d never been able to control it before, but this time he had.
    He pondered this inspirational event and went inside. Leila was in front of the television watching her Saturday cartoons. Mason was out back mowing the grass, and getting paid too much for it.
    It was only ten. What else could he possibly do to make the time go by faster? He wondered what Iris was up to . Maybe they could meet up now, and work on the puzzle later?
    He thought about calling Luke’s. She was probably