"You're really leavin', huh?"
            He looked up from where he'd been fiddling with the lock on his namesake bike.  Of course she'd find him.

            "Yeah," he said, turning back to the lock.  Trying to forget the small, round, appealing form standing beside him, because there was just no point, as open to him as she was, he had to close off, had to shut down.

            "I wanna go to Texas, too," she said suddenly.

            "Not a two-seater, hon."
            "Don't call me that," she snapped, and his head snapped up in surprise.  "'Hon'.  Like you care."
            "Don't do this," he replied, entering the last number of the combination.  He popped it open and wove the lock out of the spokes of his wheel carefully.

            "I thought we had somethin', Bike."
            "I wish we did." 

            From the corner of her eye, he thought he saw her mouth twitch.  "So that's how it is, huh?"
            "Look, you're a good girl, I hope everything turns out okay-"

            "Bastard!"  The Finger launched herself at him.  He threw himself away from the bike in surprise, but still collided heavily with one wheel.  He felt the sickening thud of bone against bent spokes, the damage to the bike alarming him much more than the sudden pain in his knee.

            She was wailing on him now, and he automatically turned over to instinct, trying to block her without hurting her too much.  He had to consciously remind himself she was a girl – The Finger knew how to fight.  They always did move well together.  She was right about that much.

            Without warning, she collapsed to the grass in tears.  He pried his head up from the ground cautiously.  He could still move his neck.  Always a good sign.

            "Listen, Fing, you'll find someone-"

            She shook her head, turning away from him as he pulled his head all the way up to look at her.

            "So will you," she managed to say.  She pried herself up as well, all the way to a standing position, still looking away.

            "Fing?" he asked, as she began to slink away.  She stopped, not turning to look at him.  "What's your real name?"
            She waited a long time, standing there with her back to him.  Long enough that he went back on his guard, worried that she was gonna attack him again. 

            "Melanie," she finally said softly.

            "That's a pretty name."
            She issued a small, irritated noise.

            "I'm Ryan," he offered.  She listened and heard the words before she disappeared, fleeing his life forever.

            Ryan watched her go, then summoned up the courage at last to turn and look.

            He felt the pain in his knee and saw the misshapen wheel, and felt a sinking dread.

            He couldn't decide yet which was worse, so rather than choose, he laid his head back on the grass and closed his eyes, shutting out the world around him.

*

            The door down the hill opened a millisecond after he stepped out.  Seth fought hard not to look.

            "C'mon, it's the best idea ever!"  Summer's voice came tinkling over the hill.

            "I don't know-"
            He squinted, frozen on the front step.  He shouldn't be so into Summer, he knew full well Anna would be coming home soon, and things were finally looking up, "up" translating to more-than-platonic.  And Summer had never given him the time of day.  So why couldn't he get over her already?

            Marissa turned and glanced his way before quickly looking in the other direction.  Startled, Seth set himself back into motion, opening the Range Rover and tossing his duffel bag into the back seat.  He was momentarily glad his father wasn't home to nag him – Dad was nervous enough about this trip and Seth was dreading the rendezvous enough as it was.

            "Hey!"

            Seth froze as he slammed the door shut.  Was that Summer?  Addressing him?  Surely not.

            "Tell Coop the beach is better than your bedroom!"
            "Summer, no!"  But Marissa was laughing.  At him?

            "Then… my…?"  Seth stared down the hill at them, confused.  Something was not connecting.  "Bedroom?"

            "See?  Even he says so!" Summer squealed, then lowered her voice.  "What's that kid's name again?"
            "Oh, you know Seth-"

            It was all he heard before he leapt into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him.  He didn't want to hear the rest.

            His parents and Marissa's were fighting now, anyway.  Or he suspected so.  He knew his parents had something to do with Mr. Cooper's little investment scandal, but as usual, they were trying to convince him everything was okay. 

            He started the ignition and edged the Range Rover out of the driveway.

*

            Ryan's fingers struggled to ply the metal back into shape.  It was useless.  He released the rim and noted dully how his fingers were trembling, but the wheel was still a wreck.

            He pulled himself to his feet then, ignoring the sharp protest from his knee, and stood the bike up.  With a slight, brief wish, he pushed it forward.

            Tch… tch… tch… klonk.

            Frustrated, he stepped forward and pushed again.

            Tch… tch… tch… klonk.

            With a great shove, the bike tumbled to the ground again.  He wanted to kick it but couldn't decide which leg to use, so instead he ripped off his jacket and threw it at the bike with all his might.  It caught the handlebars and draped itself around them.

            Staying was not an option.  Not now.  He couldn't face Dave, or The Finger, or anyone else.  Not now.  Not anymore.

            He had to get out of here.  Okay, so biking across four desert states maybe wasn't the greatest idea he'd ever come up with.  And now it wasn't even possible.  That bike was the one thing keeping him from feeling like all the other punk kids out here.  A bike.  An escape route.  A way out.  And now that way out had a warped wheel…

            Time to get it together.  Ryan took a deep, shuddering breath, and picked his coat back up, then his backpack, still on the ground where he'd left it.  He plodded over to the bench and settled himself on it, stretching out his knee, trying to ride out the severe pain.

            A careful glance assured him that he was alone, and he pulled out his wallet to do a quick count.  He had seventeen dollars and thirty-eight cents on him.  Not bad.  Not great.

            How much was a bus ticket to Texas these days, anyway?  Not to mention he didn't even know if Benny was still there.  Or would want to speak to him.  But at least it would be somewhere new, somewhere he didn't have to worry about seeing anyone he knew.

            He had enough money for food for a couple of days, if he budgeted right.  Enough to get him to Austin, if he could swing a free trip.  He wasn't even hungry now.  He could do to this.

            First step, though, was to say goodbye to the bike, and in the same note, say goodbye to Bike.  He took a deep breath as he reached for his bike for the last time, wincing against the pain of it all.

*

            "Seth!  Hey there!  Hold on."

            Seth shifted his weight as he stood in the entryway.  Dad's office was so much smaller than Mom's, but so much more intimidating. 

            "Sure.  Right," Sandy was saying into the phone.  "I understand.  But c'mon, Paul.  What are the odds of us ever seeing him again?  At this point-"  He let his mouth hang open and Seth could hear the burst of noise, the protest, from across the room.  His father fought to get a word in.  "Look, it's a jungle out there.  Believe me, I want to find him more than anyone, but once they slip away, especially with no sign of his m-"  Sandy glanced up at Seth and a resigned expression crossed his face.  "Right.  Well, if I hear anything, you'll be the first to know.  Hey, tell Reena I said hi.  Sure.  I will.  Later."  He tossed the phone into the receiver in disgust, burying his face in his hands for a moment.

            "You okay, Dad?"
            Sandy snapped his head up.  "I'm fine.  I don't know about this kid, though."  He gestured at the folder open on his desk before closing it.  "It happens.  ATM card, right?"  He reached for his wallet and flipped through.  "Ah.  There ya go."
            "Thanks."  Seth accepted the card.

            "Now, you got gas?"
            Seth held up a hand.  "Dad.  Don't start."
            "Forgive me.  Sometimes this job just brings out my overprotective side."
            "Brings out?" Seth snorted.

            "You look at enough of these cases…"  He stared down at the closed file folder, shaking his head.  Seth tried to nod with sympathy.  "Smart kids.  Good kids, Seth.  You don't know how lucky you are."
            Seth tried not to show his impatience.  He was pretty sure he was failing.  "Sure I do, Dad.  So, have a great weekend.  I'll see you Sunday night?"
            Sandy held a hand up, pointing loosely.  "Don't spend too much on stuff you're gonna put in a box and never see again."
            He inched towards the door.  "Bye, Dad."
            "Yeah, yeah, I get it.  Get outta here.  Have a blast."
            Relieved, Seth backed out of the office and down the hall.