Free Haunted Shipwreck by S.D. Hintz Page B

the streets.
    Willard shook his head as he wheeled the bicycle through the front doors. “I don’t know, Jack. There’s somethin’ real odd ‘bout this one. I ain’t never whiffed such a stench on antiques.”
    “Likewise. I can’t wait to ride it.”
    “Take it away. I’d stand it up if it had a kickstand.”
    “Thanks, Willard.” Jack grabbed the handlebars. The iron was cold and sleek, contrary to its scorched odor. He handed Willard the money. “Well, I might as well take it for a test drive.”
    “Enjoy. An’ be careful. I don’t need ya father poundin’ at my door.”
    “Safety first, right? See you tomorrow then.”
    “I’ll be here.”
    Jack wheeled the bike down the walk. He paused a few yards from the curb and tied his porkpie around his neck so that it dangled on his back. He mused at the antique. What a dinosaur! No brakes, rubber tires, cushioned seat, or reflectors. He was dying to show it off.
    He climbed onto the seat. He suddenly wished he had worn a nut cup. He felt as if he straddled a frosty flagpole, so he bunched his trail duster beneath his crotch. It worked for a makeshift cushion and raised his comfort level a notch.
    He clutched the handlebars and leaned forward. The bike rolled down the bricks. Jack felt as if he rode across a washboard; his teeth chattered with every bump. The bike hopped over the curb with a jolt. Jack’s skin tingled from head to toe, and he tightened his grip.
    Boneshaker. You can say that again.
    “What the hell is that, Jericho?”
    Mack sat on his blue Supergoose across the street. The BMX looked like a tricycle beneath his girth. It was no wonder he had to inflate the tires on a daily basis.
    “It’s a boneshaker, meathead. It cost me a month’s allowance.”
    Mack grinned from ear to ear. “That definitely beats the Huffy. Yeah right! Ride ‘em cowboy, Porkpie!”
    Jack flipped Mack the bird as he coasted through the dense mist on Skean Street. He paled at the thought of riding the bike down Bodkin Bend. The steep incline ahead sent a shiver up his spine. Rolling downhill without brakes was kamikaze. He wondered if Blue could assemble a braking mechanism. Until then, he would have to follow the shortcut through the woods between Mack’s and the Skelt house.
    Jack veered left. He bounced an inch off the seat as the bike hit the cement walk. He hopped down, not about to risk riding up an incline without brakes, and steered it to the house.
    He worried about how his parents would react to his new prize possession. He could see their looks of incredulity. They knew he was bullheaded. If he saw an antique that tickled his fancy, he had to have it. Saving his allowance for college was ridiculous, especially since he was doomed to follow his father’s footsteps and inherit the seafood shop.
    He reached across the handlebars and rang the bell. It sounded like a hammer on an anvil. A vibration hummed through the bike frame, jarring his bones. He let go of the bike and it fell against the side of the house.
    The screen door opened. Jack’s mom stepped out with her arms crossed. Her strawberry blond hair was tangled in her red glasses. Jack’s friends often joked that she was Sally Jessy Raphael’s twin sister. She huffed when she saw the bike.
    “Please tell me that washed ashore.”
    “Kind of.” Jack lifted the porkpie onto his head. “It came on the ferry this morning.”
    “Oh, Jack! You just spent five dollars on that ridiculous hat yesterday! How much of your allowance is left?”
    “Five dollars.”
    “Five dollars? Out of thirty?”
    “I know, Mom, but it’s a boneshaker. It’s over a hundred years old. I got a good deal on it.”
    “What’s wrong with the bike you have?”
    “Nothing, but this one’s a collectible. It’s probably worth a mint.”
    “I’m sure it’s not worth the twenty dollars you blew on it.”
    Jack’s mom approached the bike, the screen door slamming behind her. She seized the handlebars and steered it