Chasing Forgiveness by Neal Shusterman

Author:Neal Shusterman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

13

COLLISION AT RUSH HOUR

May

I ride home from school alone on my bike today. But when you ride home from school, you’re never alone. You’re always surrounded by a hundred other kids, racing to get home. Rush-hour traffic.

Kids at school are beginning to guess things are funny about my parents. Some kids even know what happened—or at least they think they know what happened. The newspapers barely said anything about it, but tragedies just have a way of making themselves known, even though nobody talks about them. Things just come out.

And people can be cruel.

The cruelness at my new school began with rumors. Nobody says them right to my face, of course, but I hear them all the same. The rumors go like this:

“I hear Preston Scott’s mom was gonna marry Warren Sharp, and his dad shot her and tried to shoot Preston.”

or

“Hey, I hear Preston Scott’s dad shot Preston’s mom right in front of Preston’s eyes!”

or

“Preston Scott’s dad is a psycho killer!”

I hear the lies and pretend I don’t. I can handle them. I know that now. I’m older, and what happened—well, that’s over. It’s been more than a year since Mom died; Dad’s trial has been over for months. I can just let stupid people’s stupid words roll off their stupid tongues and then off my back like it was nothing.

I’m calm. I’m in control.

People who spread rumors, says Jason, are wastes of life. They’re like the people who read the National Enquirer. They’ve got such boring lives, they have to make up stuff about other people to get their kicks.

As I ride home today, Jimmy Sanders—a kid in my English class—accidentally rams me on his bike.

“Oops,” he says. “Watch where you’re going, Scott.”

He’s only kidding—we both know that.

“Oh yeah?” I pick up speed and ram him.

“Ooh!” he says, laughing. “You die, Scott!”

He chases after me, but my legs are strong from football and track. I race up the bridge that crosses over the railroad tracks, leaving Jimmy far behind. I wonder if Jimmy is one of the people who’s been spreading rumors. It wouldn’t bother me if he is; I’m calm and under control.

People who spread rumors, says Jason, probably have parents who believe Elvis is still alive.

Jimmy catches up to me on the other side of the bridge. He rams me in our annoying little game of bumper tag.

“You’re slow, Scott,” he says. “That bike’s a piece of crap!”

He speeds past me, and I change gears, pedaling hard in a high-speed pursuit. Nobody calls me slow. Nobody calls my bike crap. I rocket past a group of kids—a couple of them are girls I’d really like to go out with, now that I’ve broken up with Angela.

Angela and I weren’t really right for each other. She talked a lot and complained that I didn’t talk much at all, which isn’t true; I talked all the time, just not to her. So we broke up, and it doesn’t bother me. I’m never going to let breaking up with a girl bother me, I’ve decided.

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