Free Borderline by Allan Stratton

Greeley’s SUV. I pretend not to notice and swing past them onto Roosevelt Trail.
    They follow me, Eddy in the lead. Eddy doesn’t rev his engine, honk his horn, or say a word. Just purrs along a few feet behind my rear tire. I speed up, he speeds up; I slow down, he slows down. Halfway along the track, he pulls up beside me. “Yo, sand monkey, wuzzup?” he calls out the window. “I said I’d be waiting for you. Why did you disappear?”
    I pedal faster.
    â€œYou too chicken to talk?”
    His buddies makes cluck sounds. Eddy squeezes me toward the curb. Let him try and push me off the road; my bike’ll scrape the shit out of his paint job.
    Eddy knows it too. He speeds ahead, brakes. I’m caught between his BMW and the SUV. The gang spills out of the cars. I try to dodge them. They box me in.
    I stop. “What do you want?”
    â€œGuess.” Eddy shoves me hard. I fall over, tangled up in my bike. He stomps on the spokes of my front tire. I scramble free, but he kicks me onto my back, jumps on top, and pins my hands to the ground. His crew circles us.
    â€œLittle reminder, sand monkey,” he says. “When you finally see McGregor, I never said a word to you in History. You swore at me for nothing. Got it? And by the way,” he knees me in the gut, “next time I tell you to meet me and my boys, you be there.”
    â€œHarrison!” It’s Mr. Bernstein. His Corolla’s pulled up beside us.
    Eddy leaps off me. His crew backs away. I get up.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Mr. Bernstein says.
    I brush off my pants. “No big deal, sir. I crashed mybike. They were helping me.”
    Mr. Bernstein isn’t buying. “Six on one, Harrison.” He shakes his head in disgust.
    â€œI thought you liked seeing guys on top of each other,” Eddy mutters.
    Snickers from the gang.
    Mr. Bernstein pretends not to hear. “An assault on school property. You boys can expect a very serious chat with the vice principal.”
    â€œOh yeah? Sabiri says everything’s fine. And we’ll all back each other up.” Eddy smirks. “Besides, my dad’s on the Academy board. See the new scoreboard on the football field? We all know who paid for it. So you see, sir, I’d be careful what I said if I were you. My dad knows all about you. Make up a story, and we will too.”
    â€œDon’t pull that crap with me,” Mr. Bernstein snaps. “Now move it.”
    Eddy’s gang returns to their cars.
    â€œWatch your back,” Eddy whispers. I don’t know if the message is for me or Mr. Bernstein. Eddy slouches into his front seat. The engines rev, and he and his gang take off.
    Mr. Bernstein puts a hand on my shoulder. “You sure you’re all right?”
    I nod.
    â€œIt’s tough, isn’t it?” he says gently.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe names. The everything.” He gives a wry smile. “I was raised in Utah.”
    For a second, we’re on the same planet. I grin.
    â€œWant a ride up the hill? Your bike’s pretty banged up. We can put it in my trunk.”
    â€œI’m okay, thanks.” I’m scared of Eddy coming back for me. But I’m even more scared of anyone thinking I need protection—not to mention seeing me get out of Mr. Bernstein’s car. I flush with shame. I like Mr. Bernstein. Why do I care what these guys think? They’re idiots.
    Mr. Bernstein pauses. “I’d like you to tell Mr. McGregor what happened.”
    â€œNothing happened, sir.”
    â€œThat’s not true. We both know it.”
    I toe the ground. “Sir, I know you’re trying to help, but here’s the thing. There’s a zero-tolerance policy for fighting. If I tell, I’d get suspended too. My dad would kill me.”
    Mr. Bernstein puts up a hand. “Zero tolerance doesn’t apply to bullying.”
    â€œWho says it was bullying? You didn’t see it,