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had walked smack into him.
    “No problem,” Mr. Malloy said. “Or, actually, I should say small problem. Look up ahead.”
    The trail in front of them was completely blocked by a fallen tree. Branches stuck up every which way, making it impossible to climb over the trunk.

    “We’ll have to go around,” Mr. Malloy said. “Follow me.”
    They stepped off the path and began to pick their way carefully through a tangle of old brush. Prickers grabbed at Jonas’s pants, forcing him to stop and pull them free. Two steps later, his foot sank into a mire of swampy mud. There was a wet sucking sound when he yanked it out. Mr. Malloy wasn’t having an easy time of it, either. “Drat!” he muttered as he tripped over a tree root.
    Finally, they made it around the fallen tree and back to the trail. But even then it was slow going. Winter had taken its toll, filling the path with tree branches. Snowmelt had left huge puddles of water and mud in the hollows. They even came across a pile of rocks from a rock slide. After twenty minutes, Mr. Malloy took off the backpack and leaned against a boulder.
    “Whew!” he said. “This trail is in rough shape!” He handed Jonas a water bottle, then took a swig from his own. “And I’ll bet the other trails are just as bad.”
    Jonas almost choked mid-swallow. He had a sneaking suspicion that his dad was about to say something he didn’t want to hear. He was right.
    “Jonas, I’m afraid that until these trails are cleared, there’ll be no biking. Sorry, pal.” He stood up, shouldered the pack again, and began to head back down the trail.
    Jonas knew his father was only thinking about his safety. And he knew it would be risky to bike in such conditions. But still, as he followed his father down the mountain and to their bikes, disappointment ran through his veins.
    If only there were something I could do,
he thought as they rode out of the lot.
    They were halfway home when he realized there
was
something he could do.
    “Dad!” he yelled. “Turn around! Quick!”

CHAPTER THREE
    Mr. Malloy braked sharply. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
    “No,” Jonas replied. “We need to go to the Community Center so I can talk to Alison. Please?”
    The Community Center ran the local skatepark in the spring, summer, and fall, and then the slope in the winter. Alison Lee, the teenager who oversaw both the skatepark and the slope, was so into extreme sports that Jonas was sure she’d be willing to help him.
    Five minutes later, they pulled up in front of the center. Jonas hurried inside, followed closely by his father. He spotted Alison behind the front desk.
    “Yo, Malloys, what’s up?” Alison greeted them.

    Jonas told her about the impassable trails. “So what I was hoping,” he finished, “was that you’d help me figure out a way to get the trails ready for biking. And hiking, too, of course,” he added.
    Alison drummed her fingers on the desktop. “Funny you should ask. I’ve been planning to organize a clean-up day for those trails. From what you’ve said, it sounds like we’re going to need a big crew.”
    Her eyes flicked toward a wall calendar. “Hmm. The skatepark opens next Saturday. I’ll be too busy to do anything that day” — Jonas’s heart started to sink — “so how about the day after?”
    Jonas’s heart leapt up again.
    “Tell you what,” Alison said, “if you find enough people willing to put in a full day of hard work next Sunday, I’ll be there to show them what needs to be done. Just make sure everyone wears pants and long sleeves and has a pair of heavy-duty work gloves. Think you can do that?”
    “Absolutely!” Jonas cried. “Thanks, Alison!”
    She waved a hand. “No sweat, kid. In the meantime, I’ll post a sign warning people to stay off the trails.”
    The minute Jonas got home, he started calling his friends.
    “X, ol’ buddy, ol’ friend, ol’ pal!” he said when Xavier “X” McSweeney answered his phone.
    “Uh, oh,” X