Somehow thrilling and terrifying both at once. Like a roller coaster, but without a safety bar. The part after the collision, where Zane flew feet-over-face past his handlebars and thwacked headfirst into the dirt, that wasn’t thrilling at all. There was a screech of tires and the slam of a car door. “You damn kids!” came a voice behind him. Marigold rushed to Zane, picking his head out of the dirt. “Oh, Zane, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Zane was not okay. His whole head throbbed, his palms were burning. He wondered if he might have broken an ankle. “You damn kids!” came the voice again. The Owner. “Move this mess, now!” As Zane did his best to rub the sting out of the back of his neck, Marigold stood to her full height, hands on her hips. “You hit my brother!” she screeched. Dozens of squirrels, Zane noticed as his vision began to clear, had leapt out from the trees, and they were swarming into the road in order to . . .
