I always ran at that time, as soon as the school bell rang. It was my daily run, like the lady who lives across the street jogs every morning at seven. I don't think I'd like to run that early. Of course, I didn't really like to run at this time either. But I had no choice. I was being chased. I cut the corner hard at Mrs. Baker's hedgerow on Fourth Street and turned north on Drake Avenue. Two more blocks, and I'd be home and safe. I was halfway down the block, and there was only silence behind me. Hey, maybe they turned back! But then I heard the high-pitched engines that powered their scooters buzzing behind me like a pack of angry bees. Dang, they hadn't turned back. I glanced back just as the school bullies rounded the corner riding their scooters like a motorcycle gang. Push, Shove, Punch, and Trip. Not their names. Their modus operandi. (I heard that on TV.) Biff, Bud, Rod, and … where was Vic? They were the biggest kids in fourth grade because they should be in fifth grade.
