The Case-Book of Holloway Holmes by Gregory Ashe

Author:Gregory Ashe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hodgkin and Blount
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The Adventure of the Lost Boy

This story takes place before the events of Where All Paths Meet.

1

Jack

“We only have the one bike,” I said.

From the kitchen came Dad’s voice: “Please get his butt out of here.”

Rowe, who was some kind of combination of Viking, puppy, and friend, was grinning. You could practically see his tongue hanging out. “We’ll take turns.”

“Uh, no,” I said quickly, “we won’t. And anyway, the suspension is stiff. Dad and I are still trying to get it fixed; we’ve been working on it all winter.”

“Rowe,” Dad said, leaning across the counter into the living room, “I’m begging you.”

I clutched the blanket and tried to wedge myself more completely between the sofa cushions. My voice climbed a little higher. “The gear alignment is totally whack.”

Dad gave me a look mixing disgust and compassion. “He’s been like this all week. Don’t take it personally.”

Rowe was one of those guys who, even in their teens, can grow an awesome beard (unlike me, which I’m absolutely not jealous of). It was blond, the same color as his cropped hair and disheveled bangs. He scratched his beard now, grinning even bigger. “No worries, Mr. M. I won’t.”

“You should,” I said. “You should definitely take it personally and—and probably stop being my friend.”

“Nope,” Rowe said and grabbed me in a headlock.

In case you’re wondering: yes, it’s completely possible to be pulled from the warm cocoon of your favorite blanket, dragged mercilessly to the door, and forced to put on your ancient, crusty Vans, all while being held in a headlock. The secret is to do it the way Rowe did, with the kind of reckless enthusiasm that makes the victim think their head is going to pop off like a cork.

“I’ll clean my room!” I shouted as Rowe hauled me out of the cottage.

“Sounds good,” Dad called back. “I’ll take you up on that when you get back.”

“No, it was a trade—”

But Rowe pulled the door shut behind us, and I’d lost my opportunity.

Ms. Albrecht, my World History teacher, was power walking past us, complete with a fuzzy headband and earmuffs.

“I’m being taken against my will!” I shouted.

“Hi, Jack!” She beamed at us and waved. “Hi, Rowe!”

“Hi, Ms. Albrecht,” Rowe said.

“Such a nice boy,” Ms. Albrecht said to herself as she picked up the pace.

“Did you hear that?” Rowe asked as he dragged me down the steps. “I’m nice.”

“You’re too nice,” I said and slugged him in the thigh. “Enough, dumbass! Let me go! I give up or I surrender or whatever!”

Rowe released me. I straightened, made a production out of cracking my neck, and tried to fix my hair because he’d no doubt messed it up—but I didn’t have a mirror.

“Five more seconds,” Rowe said.

“I’m making sure I don’t have spinal cord damage,” I snapped, but I started toward the maintenance building.

I wasn’t sure Rowe was laughing as he came after me, his steps crisp on the pavement, but I wasn’t sure he wasn’t either.

The first weekend in February on the

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