Free The Summer of Riley by Eve Bunting

it, though. She’d told on Riley. Never mind the Sweet William thing. I pedaled harder.
    There were still lots of people on the sidewalks. I figured some of them had gone home for peanut butter toast and iced tea of their own and come back, though I wasn’t sure if they were the same ones who’d been around in the morning. I turned to offera yellow flyer to a woman in jeans and a striped T-shirt who was passing, and suddenly realized it was Peachie. My heart gave a frightened jump. What would I say to her?
    “Oh … er …” I pulled my hand back, holding the bunch of flyers against my chest. “Hello, Peachie.”
    “William!”
    “How … how is the Sultan?” I stammered. “I saw him when I went past your house. I waved to him.” I tried for a grin. “But he didn’t wave back.”
    I was trying to think what I could say next and wishing Peachie would just go on into the bank, or wherever she was planning on going, when a woman with the spikiest hair I’d ever seen in my life pushed her face real close to mine. She was so close I could see the black stuff clumped in her eyelashes. Tarantula eyes, I thought. In her hand was a microphone.
    “William Halston?” she asked with this totally bogus smile.
    “Yes,” I said uncertainly.
    Behind her was a skinny guy carrying a camera about as big as he was.
    “Awesome,” Tarantula Eyes said. “I’m TrixieAllen,
What’s Going On,
seven P.M., Channel Three, Portland. You’ve probably seen my program?”
    I shook my head.
    “This is Boots, my cameraman.” She pulled the skinny guy forward, jostling Peachie to the side.
    “Peachie?” I began.
    “Peachie?” Tarantula’s tarantula eyes widened. She stole a quick glance down at the notebook she held. “Would that be Mrs. Peachwood, the, shall we say, instigator of this whole affair?”
    I was frantically waving Grace over.
    “What luck!” Tarantula Eyes smiled a satisfied tarantula smile. She wedged the microphone under her arm and grabbed Peachie’s hand. “We planned on calling you…. I have a cell phone in my pocket here, never travel without it….” Again that bogus smile. “I hoped to come over to your house right after my interview with William. This is even better, getting the two of you together like this.”
    Peachie had not said a word and neither had I, but Grace, who’d come over, blurted out, “Is Riley going to be on TV? How cool.” Her grin went ear to ear, and she nudged me so hard with her shoulder, I almost fell off the curb.
    “Hi, Peachie,” she said, and then, realizing thatPeachie wouldn’t be thrilled to have Riley on TV, she muttered, “Peachie, this is Trixie Allen of Channel Three,” and waved her flyers as if she were introducing them.
    “We’ve met,” Peachie said.
    Boots was doing something businesslike with his
    camera. Trixie slithered her smile at Grace. “Are you William’s little girlfriend?”
    “No,” Grace said. “I’m his partner in trying to save Riley. It’s great that you’re going to do a story on him.”
    “Good, fine.” Trixie consulted her notebook. “Well, now, William and Mrs. Peachwood … I’m just going to ask you both a few questions. Can you fill me in? Mrs. Peachwood, as I understand it, your horse …”
    “I’m sorry, Miss Allen.” Peachie’s voice was low and absolutely polite. “I don’t intend to answer any questions or be interviewed either.”
    “But I bet you’re mad at each other, you and William?” The tarantula smile was back. “Won’t you at least …”
    “I’m not at all mad at William,” Peachie said. “William is my good friend. He’s looking out for his dog is all. Now, if you’ll excuse me …”
    A little crowd had gathered, spilling onto the street. We watched as Peachie edged through the people and through the doors into the bank.
    Miss Allen shrugged. “No problem. William? Why don’t
you
just fill our viewers in on the story?”
    Boots held up his hand, and Trixie said, “Just a second …