Sean Griswold's Head by Lindsey Leavitt

Author:Lindsey Leavitt [Leavitt, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bloomsbury USA Childrens
Published: 2011-07-11T22:00:00+00:00

I start Dad’s valentine the second I get home from school. My base is a poster board I’d done my seventh-grade history project on. I crumple it up and rip off some of the pictures, making sure to leave scraps of paper hanging and cut it into a sloppy heart. Next, I scribble pink and red marker until only snips of white show through. A big glob of glue is squirted over the entire piece, smearing some of the marker. Then I randomly stick the contents of my trashed bedroom floor around the edges of the heart. A Snickers wrapper, those annoying postcards from my Consumer Reports magazine, used mint dental floss, a cracked nail file, and an empty box of contacts. In the middle, I duct-tape a red piece of construction paper for the message I still need to write.

Stepping back, I appraise my artwork. It’s trashy, but it needs something really foul, like a blackened banana peel or used chewing gum. All that is left lying around is some torn computer paper, so I head down to the garage to scavenge through the good stuff.

Whoever wired the electronics in our garage did an awful job. The switch is in the top right corner, away from the entrance and far from the door into the house. At night, we have to navigate around boxes and storage bins just to flip the switch. I’m making my way through the darkened jungle when my knee bangs into something. Hard.

“Whatduhheckwasthat!” I fall to the ground and grab my knee. The unidentified object crashes against the boxes and I somehow manage to crawl to the far wall, stand, and flick on the light.

It’s a bike. One I’ve never seen before. It’s not like your everyday mountain bike—this one looks more like Sean’s, with thin wheels and a metallic frame. Not something you find at Wal-Mart.

Sean. Is it … is it Sean’s? There’s a silver helmet dangling from the handlebar. I take it off and try it on my head. It feels a little lumpy on top, like the straps are attached wrong. I take it off and look inside to find a red piece of paper shaped like a star.

Hey Payton,

Now you’re out of excuses. MS 150 ride, here we come.

Happy V-Day,

Sean

P.S. Still a little curious about the secret admirer thing.

The garage door opens and my dad drives in. I shove the card into my pocket, but there’s no way the bike will fit in there too.

“Whose bike?”

I look down at it, in shock that it’s actually real. “Mine, I think.”

“Where’d you get it.”

“Uh … my friend.”

Dad kicks the wheel and whistles. “Must be a really good friend.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

Dad raises an eyebrow. “He?”

I nod but don’t say anything. Dad chuckles as he disappears into the house.

Along with the helmet, Sean had also added some old bike shoes to the package. They’re a little snug on my unusually large feet, but they feel better once I click my feet into the pedals.

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