[[a/n: thanks again for all the nice reviews so far. they mean a lot. i wouldn't have any motivation to continue this if it wasn't for you all.]]

Justin would blackmail me to save his own rear end. That was so like him. The prat couldn't face Chad himself because he was afraid of confrontation with people who weren't smaller. It was in my instinct to simply ignore his situation, to let him deal with his own problems. But he had threatened to expose my dirty secrets to our peers, and I couldn't ignore that.

I was at a loss for what to do. How was I supposed to know where Chad's bike had gone? I considered searching for it, but there were tons of places in Bullworth to look. I even considered buying Chad a new one, but Daddy would not have been pleased with that idea. A new bike would cost more than simply repairing one, and that was how I got into this mess in the first place.

My reputation as a high class individual was on the line. I had to do something.

Saturday morning, after a worried and sleepless night, I decided on asking around town to see if anyone had seen it.

It was a stupid idea, I knew that, but I didn't have any others. Pinky was there to help me. She made the cutest little flyers on pastel pink paper to hand around town, complete with drawings of swirly hearts and kitten stickers, but I was far too anxious to fully appreciate her creativity.

'LOST EXPENSIVE BIKE! PLEASE HELP!'

Every time Pinky handed an adult a flyer, I kept a distance so she could give them her routine. She'd pout and fake cry, rubbing her dry eyes as she sobbed in false desperation, begging them to please return it to the school should they find it. People were always more willing to listen to the cries of a girl when they thought she was crying for herself rather than for another person.

For the most part, Pinky was convincing. There were times when she'd glance up at them to ensure they were still listening, but that was okay. They appeared to show legitimate concern, assuring her that they'd keep an eye open for it, and she was pleased with herself for helping me. But I noticed as they continued their walks, they'd ball up the flyers and toss them to the ground, continuing on with their lives as though they hadn't ever encountered her.

How rude.

We did this for hours, all over Old Bullworth Vale and throughout the commercial district of town. We went to each bike shop to check if anyone had brought in an Aquaberry Cruiser to sell for parts, but to no avail. The bike shop owner in Bullworth Town was nice, though, allowing us to hang up the last one of Pinky's flyers in his window.

And that was it. She went through all of her flyers by two in the afternoon without a single lead. Either no one had seen it or no one cared. Most likely the latter.

I sighed, taking a seat on the curb in front of the Bullworth Town bike shop after our exit. "This is hopeless," I whined, burying my face in my palms. "I may as well accept the fact that my social life is over."

Pinky sat next to me, placing her hand on my shoulder. "Oh, come on now. Don't give up." Her voice was warm and comforting, which I appreciated. But I couldn't have been soothed in a situation such as this.

I looked up at her, wearisome from all of this nonsense. "What else are we supposed to do, Pinky? No one wants to help us and I'm out of ideas." I groaned, bringing my face back to my hands. "It's over," I said, my voice muffled. "Justin is going to ruin my reputation and I'll have to start hanging around with poor kids."

It was silent for a moment, which I found odd. I expected Pinky to give me more comforting words of encouragement. I peeked up, surprised to find her holding an expression of anger. She huffed, taking her hand off of my shoulder. "You are pathetic, Gord." That once soothing voice was now harsh, annoyed. The sudden shift in her tone was startling.

"That's not exactly what I need to hear right now, Pinky."

"So you're just going to take this?" She stood up, towering over me with her hands on her hips. "I'm disappointed in you. What happened to the Gord I know? The one who never settled for failure?"

I groaned. I knew Pinky. By nature she was an optimistic person, but this wasn't a very promising situation that I was in. "Well, what else am I supposed to do then?" I retorted, standing up to face her. I appreciated her coming to help me and provide support, but she wasn't making me feel much better now. "We already asked everyone in town."

"Well, maybe we should start looking."

Pinky was crazy. Bullworth was a huge town; there were tons of places to look! "Do you know how long that'd take?"

She rolled her eyes. "We don't have to look everywhere." She spoke to me as though I were clueless. 'Duh!'

I cocked my head. "Then where should we look?"

"Where was the last place Chad saw his bike?"

I thought. Pinky may have been onto something. "Well, Justin said that Chad went to get his bike from the shed Friday after school."

"Then we should go look around in the shed!"

The shed beside Harrington House wasn't used for much besides storing our bikes and equipment for the gardeners (or Hopkins whenever he was given a detention). It was never kept locked because of that; there wasn't anything of particular value inside. But that was no excuse for stealing from it.

Any of us could afford to replace what was inside the shed, but it was still bothersome having to do so. No one likes being stolen from. It was an invasion of security and felt terrible. I imagine it'd feel even worse when the person suspected of stealing was a friend.

Pinky slid the shed doors open, the earthy scents of soil and grass hitting us in a wave. It was a large shed, though not well lit, very dark and shadowy, illuminated only by the light entering from the open doors. It was kept relatively neat and organized, but the dust was getting to me.

I sneezed. "Oh, my." Allergies, you know. "Alright Pinky, I don't want to stick around in her for long, so let's look around and get out."

"You got it!"

Despite it being a large shed, there weren't many places to look. The sides were lined with shelves and lawn equipment and towards the back corners were where we kept our bikes chained up. That was about it.

"Okay Gord, you look around the front and I'll do the back."

"Good idea." We'd cover more ground if we split up.

We could've been quieter, and we could've been neater. Pinky and I searched hastily, tossing buckets and shovels and other gardening tools to the ground as we looked, each falling with a loud clatter. The sooner we found clues as to where Chad's bike disappeared to, the sooner my reputation could be saved.

I didn't find anything of notability among the shelves, only trowels and cultivators and other typical gardening things. A couple of clay pots fell to the ground and shattered during my search, but I couldn't be bothered to worry about them.

Pinky asked for my help when she wanted to look behind some bags of soil. We moved them together, finding nothing but disappointment.

I was ready to give up. We weren't coming across any leads; our short trail had gone cold.

I heaved a sigh. "Pinky, let's just call it quits..."

She wasn't listening to me, still searching as I dragged my feet towards the shed doors. I could hear her tossing over the other Preps' bikes behind me, though carefully pushing hers to the side, when she gasped. "Gord, look!"

Honestly, I was fully prepared to stop caring about anything at that point, but Pinky was so excited that she had thought she found something, hopping in place and flailing her hands. I didn't want her to feel as though her efforts were wasted, so with a sigh, I walked over to her side to see what she had found.

"Look!" She pointed to the corner ground. "See, that was underneath all of the bikes, like someone was trying to hide it!"

Thank goodness I didn't have it in my heart to turn away from Pinky, because she had found gold. It was Chad's bike lock, reflecting light from outside, making it easy to notice in the darkness of the shed. But it wasn't unlocked as if someone had taken it out for a simple ride. I bent down to pick it up for further examination. The lock had been cut, probably with a bolt cutter, which I explained to Pinky.

I brought a hand up to my chin. "So, it's definitely been stolen. Chad isn't framing anyone."

"Whoever stole it had access to the right tools for the job."

I nodded. "And easy access to Harrington House."

Pinky looked at me. I knew exactly what she was thinking; I was thinking the same.

Those dirty Greaseballs.

Of course it was those Greasers. How did we not think of it sooner? They hated us, always coming up with new ways to make our lives difficult. And taking their stupid obsessions with bikes into consideration, they had quite a few things to gain from stealing our property. They would have angered us, and they could have used Chad's bike for... well, whatever it was they did with bikes. Take them apart to put back together or something.

The auto shop was directly across from Harrington House. Getting to our territory would be simple for them. They must have snuck into the shed on Thursday night while we were all sleeping, broken Chad's bike lock, and brought it over to their gross turf. Despicable.

I was ready to give those bastards a piece of my mind.

Or, at least, I wanted to.

While standing there in front of the auto shop entrance with Pinky at my side, I couldn't help but feel anxious. It was just the two of us with no other form of defense should we be attacked. I couldn't possibly take on all of them, and knowing Pinky, she simply wouldn't want to.

"Um, Pinky... maybe we should go get Bif or Parker to help us..."

Pinky looked down on me. "What would we need them for? We'll be fine."

I shifted in place. "What if they threaten violence?"

"Oh Gord, come on, don't be silly," she chortled. "They wouldn't hurt me, I'm a girl!"

Well, at least I wouldn't have to worry about that.

"Here," Pinky began, extending her arm to grab my hand. "Let's hold hands. It'll be fine!"

"You don't know that."

The sensation of anxiety I felt then and there was akin to that of the previous Sunday, when Duncan and I crossed through New Coventry to get my bike repaired. It was distressing being faced with a path through rival territory, of course. But there were no Greasers near the auto shop entrance. Perhaps that was a good sign.

I breathed in, forcing myself to believe that this wouldn't be too terrible.

"Okay, let's do this." I squeezed Pinky's hand, and she gave me a reassuring squeeze back.

The first several steps into the auto shop weren't hard, and the further in we went the easier it became to move without telling myself to. I couldn't see any Greaseballs anywhere. Maybe they weren't here. I sighed, relieved. My anxiety was diminishing.

I wasn't exactly sure where we were supposed to look. The layout of this place was unfamiliar to me. Maybe wherever they kept bike parts would be a good place to begin. The repair bay buildings, perhaps?

The garage door to the first repair bay was closed. I braced myself with Pinky at my side before bending over to lift it up. I wasn't sure what to expect. I supposed the worst that could've been on the other side would be a bunch of Greasers, and the worst that they could've done would be to chase me and Pinky out of the auto shop, because I sure as hell would not stick around to fight them all.

"Come on, open it already!" Pinky nudged me.

Well, here it goes. I squeezed my eyes shut as my arms lifted the garage door to their own will, as slowly and dramatically as they possibly could. It felt like an hour had passed before the door was fully opened, and once it was, I forced myself to look.

Pinky and I stood silently, taking it all in. I honestly hadn't prepared myself at all for this.

It was empty. Completely barren, only several crates off to the side, none of which were large enough to fit a bike.

I groaned. "Great. So all of this was for nothing." Who keeps an entire repair bay empty?

Pinky clicked her tongue. "There's another building that we haven't checked out, you know."

She was right, but I wasn't very hopeful. Honestly, the more I thought about it, the more ridiculous the idea of those Greasers taking Chad's bike sounded. They may have been a bunch of poor, disgusting welfare cases, but even they would have had better things to do with their lives, wouldn't they? They had hobbies and interests and motivation to do productive things with their time.

Not like those Townie kids.

My eyes widened at that thought. It hit me like a load of bricks.

"Those thieving bastards!"

Pinky gave me a look. "Gord!"

It all made sense now. It must have been the Townies. All of those bikes in that Henry's garage, and Omar storing that one Duncan was with last Friday in their trunk. They were bike thieves! Typical low-class.

"Pardon my language, Pinky, but I think we have our culprits."