was true what they said about animals. Could they really smell fear?
From their vantage point the kids could see four riders manoeuvring their way through the obstacle course with varying degrees of skill. Darcy noted the leader’s careful moves, how he picked his way through the rocks and dirt, not taking the most direct route but the one that must be safest, and admired his tactics. Because sometimes the shortest route took the longest, and precious time could be wasted in a bike trial. Once over the broken surface the kids rode up a rock ledge and pulled up on their handlebars to balance in a line like Spanish dancing stallions in a horse show.
‘We can’t do that,’ said Darcy with a groan. His heart sank as they balanced for one second, three, five before dropping and zooming off the rock.
‘They’re good,’ said Mio.
‘Much good.’
‘Wonder who they are,’ said Clem.
‘Hope they’re not in the bike trial,’ said Darcy, his heart sinking further as they upped a brick wall without toppling back.
‘Probably are,’ said Mio.
‘Oh, yay,’ said Clem.
Chapter Nine
In the distance the kids could see that the riders had stopped on a level patch of ground and were all balancing in a stationary position. ‘What’re they doing?’ whispered Mio.
‘Just track stands,’ scoffed Darcy.
‘More than track stands,’ said Mio.
It was hard to make out exactly what was going on, but the other riders seemed to be spinning their front wheel with one foot.
‘They’re going backwards,’ said Clem.
And sure enough, each rider executed a very small backward, no-hand circle.
So engrossed were they that they didn’t realise Bryce wasn’t with them, much less approaching the riders, till they spotted himonly several metres away, far too distant to be able to warn.
Bryce walked around a set of three cylinders, like giant wooden cotton spools, and came to a crashing halt. His breath came in shallow rasps, sounding like revs in his ears, and his heart went full throttle.
The riders came down in a fantastic display of arms and wheels and spokes, saddles, legs and heads.
But it didn’t take long for them to spring to their feet and advance menacingly. Bryce scuffled backwards, shocked by the fire and fury that blazed on faces partially hidden by chin straps and helmets.
‘Watch it!’ growled one boy.
Bryce noticed that he wore shin pads with short socks; he looked like a nerd. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you were there.’
‘Could’ve done some serious damage,’ spat another rider, retrieving his bike and inspecting it for dings and scratches. ‘Hey!’ He pointed to the gouge down the tube of his bike. ‘You owe me.’
‘I do not!’
The boy strode up to Bryce, his hands splayed in anger. He stopped, his face close, his body in a fight stance, palms now curled.
On top of the tower the kids could see enough to be alarmed.
‘Come on,’ cried Mio, dropping down the ladder as though it were a fireman’s pole. ‘We’ve got to help him.’
‘Bryce!!!’ hollered Darcy. ‘We’re coming-ng-ng!’ He, too, scooted down the ladder, with Tong and Clem close behind. They charged off in Bryce’s direction.
The bikers gave no sign that they’d heard Darcy, but Bryce knew they must have. Which meant they knew reinforcements were coming. Which meant that their attack, if they decided to go through with it, would have to be swift.
Bryce tried to avoid eye contact with the boy in front of him, which was proving to be as difficult as not looking at an eclipse, even when you’ve been warned of the danger. ‘I don’t owe you anything.’
‘You asking for it?’ goaded the boy.
Bryce had seen this technique before. Get your victim distracted then go in for the surprise attack. Bryce knew what to do. Not give these thugs any more reason to bash him than they already had.
‘I was checking out the equipment,’ said Bryce, praying that his voice held steady. ‘Never been up The
From their vantage point the kids could see four riders manoeuvring their way through the obstacle course with varying degrees of skill. Darcy noted the leader’s careful moves, how he picked his way through the rocks and dirt, not taking the most direct route but the one that must be safest, and admired his tactics. Because sometimes the shortest route took the longest, and precious time could be wasted in a bike trial. Once over the broken surface the kids rode up a rock ledge and pulled up on their handlebars to balance in a line like Spanish dancing stallions in a horse show.
‘We can’t do that,’ said Darcy with a groan. His heart sank as they balanced for one second, three, five before dropping and zooming off the rock.
‘They’re good,’ said Mio.
‘Much good.’
‘Wonder who they are,’ said Clem.
‘Hope they’re not in the bike trial,’ said Darcy, his heart sinking further as they upped a brick wall without toppling back.
‘Probably are,’ said Mio.
‘Oh, yay,’ said Clem.
Chapter Nine
In the distance the kids could see that the riders had stopped on a level patch of ground and were all balancing in a stationary position. ‘What’re they doing?’ whispered Mio.
‘Just track stands,’ scoffed Darcy.
‘More than track stands,’ said Mio.
It was hard to make out exactly what was going on, but the other riders seemed to be spinning their front wheel with one foot.
‘They’re going backwards,’ said Clem.
And sure enough, each rider executed a very small backward, no-hand circle.
So engrossed were they that they didn’t realise Bryce wasn’t with them, much less approaching the riders, till they spotted himonly several metres away, far too distant to be able to warn.
Bryce walked around a set of three cylinders, like giant wooden cotton spools, and came to a crashing halt. His breath came in shallow rasps, sounding like revs in his ears, and his heart went full throttle.
The riders came down in a fantastic display of arms and wheels and spokes, saddles, legs and heads.
But it didn’t take long for them to spring to their feet and advance menacingly. Bryce scuffled backwards, shocked by the fire and fury that blazed on faces partially hidden by chin straps and helmets.
‘Watch it!’ growled one boy.
Bryce noticed that he wore shin pads with short socks; he looked like a nerd. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you were there.’
‘Could’ve done some serious damage,’ spat another rider, retrieving his bike and inspecting it for dings and scratches. ‘Hey!’ He pointed to the gouge down the tube of his bike. ‘You owe me.’
‘I do not!’
The boy strode up to Bryce, his hands splayed in anger. He stopped, his face close, his body in a fight stance, palms now curled.
On top of the tower the kids could see enough to be alarmed.
‘Come on,’ cried Mio, dropping down the ladder as though it were a fireman’s pole. ‘We’ve got to help him.’
‘Bryce!!!’ hollered Darcy. ‘We’re coming-ng-ng!’ He, too, scooted down the ladder, with Tong and Clem close behind. They charged off in Bryce’s direction.
The bikers gave no sign that they’d heard Darcy, but Bryce knew they must have. Which meant they knew reinforcements were coming. Which meant that their attack, if they decided to go through with it, would have to be swift.
Bryce tried to avoid eye contact with the boy in front of him, which was proving to be as difficult as not looking at an eclipse, even when you’ve been warned of the danger. ‘I don’t owe you anything.’
‘You asking for it?’ goaded the boy.
Bryce had seen this technique before. Get your victim distracted then go in for the surprise attack. Bryce knew what to do. Not give these thugs any more reason to bash him than they already had.
‘I was checking out the equipment,’ said Bryce, praying that his voice held steady. ‘Never been up The
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