Woodford Brave Read online

  “Of course he isn’t,” Sawyer said. “Not over some little rhubarb about a girl. Even though that girl is German. We know you had a reason. After all, love trumps everything, and you’re in love with her, right?” Then he puckered up and made sloppy kissy-kissy noises.

  I felt the blood pumping through my wrists when I clenched my fingers in a fist, but I took a deep breath.

  They could never know.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” I said for the bazillionth time, working at making my voice even. “I was only saving Aidan from getting into trouble. His mom would ground him for eternity if she found out he hit a girl, and you both know it.”

  Sawyer slapped Aidan on the shoulder. “See? I told you Cory’s one of us, part of our team.”

  “Didn’t f-f-feel that way,” Aidan muttered.

  “You’re my best friend,” I said. “I got your back, just like you have mine. Right?”

  Aidan didn’t answer, but Sawyer did. “That’s right. Which is why we’re here. You still want revenge against the Germans, right?”

  They could never know.

  I slipped my hand into my pocket, wrapped my fingers around Dad’s silver dollar, and nodded.

  “Thought so,” Sawyer said. “We’ve got a plan to put An-YA in her place, once and for all. Are you with us?”

  “It’s a p-p-perfect chance for a little Nazi revenge, Cory,” Aidan added. “For your d-d-dad.”

  The silver dollar cooled the blood in my fingers.

  They. Could. Never. Know.

  “Count me in.”

  And then they were both in the garage. It felt good to have friends again; to be back inside their circle. “You’re not too chicken to do it, are you?” Sawyer asked before telling me their idea.

  “Remember, I’m a Woodford. There’s not a chicken bone in my family.”

  Aidan narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying my heart p-p-pumps chicken blood since Jackson decided not to f-f-fight? That being yellow runs in my b-b-blood the way c-c-courage runs in yours?”

  My best friend had no idea what really ran through my veins, and he never would. “Don’t be a horse’s butt. I was just saying you can count on me.”

  “I told you this would work, Aidan,” Sawyer said, grinning around his wad of gum. “It’s all about revenge.”

  Then he leaned in and told me his plan. I thought the whole idea was downright stupid, but I couldn’t argue, couldn’t side with Anne. Not outright. Not ever. Not if I wanted things to go back to the way they had been. I didn’t even care if all Sawyer and Aidan talked about was baseball, just as long as we were friends.

  The next day I rolled my cart out of the garage. Echo followed, his tail floating in the air like a giant question mark. Sawyer and Aidan were waiting just like they said they’d be. I parked my cart by a row of trash barrels and then, together, we went up to Anne’s back door.

  I told myself I was the Kid, out to avenge my father’s death with my compatriots at my side. My steps, angry and determined, thundered across the land, threatening to uproot trees and crumble entire mountainsides. Even so, there was a ghostly whisper of doubt against my skin and I noticed a little twinge of guilt.

  Anne opened the door, not bothering to invite us in. One of her eyes was surrounded by dark purple and there was a scab on her elbow. I was surprised her dad hadn’t called all our mothers and gotten our hides tanned for fighting. She definitely didn’t look like a prissy girl. Didn’t sound like one, either. “What do you want?”

  Sawyer spoke for all of us. “Cory said you dared him to a race. Well, today’s the day. He’s ready to prove that a girl can never beat a boy.”

  “So you’re one of them now?” she asked, her eyes on me.

  “Watch it, Nazi,” Sawyer said.

  “I’m NOT a Nazi,” she said. “I’m German. There’s a difference.”

  They could never know.

  “Are you going to race or not?” I asked. “We have a hill. The perfect hill.” Then I turned and pointed down Satan’s Sidewalk. “Let’s see whose cart is best, once and for all.”

  “We dare you,” Sawyer added.

  “Double D-D-DOG dare you,” Aidan said.

  “You’re on,” she said. “And I’ll beat you. All of you.”

  We waited on Satan’s Sidewalk for Anne to roll out her cart from the garage and line up in the space we left for her. She reached over and rubbed one of Echo’s ears while taking a long look at the other go-carts. She ran her hand over the crate that formed the driver’s cage on my cart, touching the lightning bolt. “Looks good,” she said.

  I had to give Anne credit. She was trying to be nice, but I knew this truce was as fragile as spider silk. Then she looked at the one Aidan and Sawyer had built. It wasn’t much; just an angled plywood base topped with a used sofa cushion.

  “What’s that for?” she asked, toeing a piece of wood attached at a lazy angle on the side of the base. At the end was what looked like the rubber tip of a walking cane.

  I wondered the same thing but Sawyer stopped Aidan from answering. “Quit stalling, Anne. Or should we call you An-YA?”

  Sawyer draped an arm over my shoulder as if we were best pals. Aidan stepped beside him. We were a force of three. Strong and unwavering.

  Anne eyeballed each one of us. When her eyes met mine, they turned cold and hard. “I’m ready if you are, Cory,” she said. Then she turned and went to her cart.

  Sawyer thumped my shoulder. “Cory’s ready, aren’t you, buddy?”

  I nodded. “Let’s do this.”

  Anne’s cart was on one side of Satan’s Sidewalk, Aidan and Sawyer’s on the other. Mine was in the middle.

  “Aidan and I flipped a coin,” Sawyer said as he dragged the heel of his shoe through the broken gravel to create a starting line. “I’ll watch him beat you from the sidelines. Everyone ready?”

  As we lined up our carts, making sure the wheels were on the line, Sawyer leaned over and whispered to Aidan. Aidan gave a jerky nod before Sawyer stepped off to the side.

  I flexed my fingers and then grasped the sides of my cart. Echo wandered over to where I stood ready to push off. He paused by my ankles and meowed as if asking a question.

  “Looks like your cat wants to go for a ride,” Sawyer said.

  The Mighty Echo. My sidekick. Always at my side. I scooped him up and put him in the foot of the crate.

  “On your marks,” Sawyer yelled.

  The Kid was ready. I pushed my cap down tight on my head and then swung one leg inside the freshly painted armored shell of the Kid’s tank. It was impenetrable, like me.

  “Get set,” Sawyer said.

  The Kid’s muscles were springs the size of tree trunks, his arms chiseled rock.

  “Go!”

  I pushed off, swinging my other leg inside the crate and ducking low as I picked up speed. Faster than ghosts or Nazis or any other villain attempting to thwart me. Faster and faster, I barreled down Satan’s Sidewalk.

  I. Would. Not. Be. Beaten.

  Echo scrambled around by my shoes, bouncing from the rough ride. This was no place for Echo. Too late now. I couldn’t stop.

  Rushing air billowed my shirtsleeves. My teeth rattled and the steering rope dug into my hands. I imagined the air currents parting around the Kid’s Helmet of Power until my baseball cap caught a gust of wind and flew off my head.

  Echo finally stopped scrambling and huddled between my knees. The Mighty Echo was giving in to the ride of his life.

  We were neck-and-neck. All three carts bouncing over rocks and broken gravel. Anne pulled ahead. She had been right. The crate on my cart created drag. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aidan look my way, checking to see if I would follow the plan.

  It was now or never.

  I jerked the left rope and the axle turned. My go-cart swerved, shaving off a sliver of paint as it sideswiped Anne’s cart.

  “Watch out!” she screamed, struggling for control.

  Make sure Aidan wins. That was t
he plan. My part was to keep Anne from taking the lead. Even if it meant crashing into her.

  Her go-cart bounced, but she was able to right it and keep going. Sawyer ran behind us, whooping like it was the end of the world. Anne screaming, Sawyer yelling, the carts bouncing: Ziegler’s hounds howled at all of it.

  “Now!” Sawyer screamed from behind us.

  I saw Aidan grab the stick on the side of his cart and pull hard so that the rubber-tipped end dug into loose rock. He threw his feet over each side, his heels trenching Satan’s Sidewalk. His cart spewed gravel and fishtailed all the way around before swerving off the pavement and crashing into a trash barrel.

  My cart surged ahead. What was he doing? He was supposed to win, not me.

  At that exact moment, I was aware of things that made no difference to life and death whatsoever. I smelled rotten potato peelings. I heard the crunch of wheels. I felt the heat of Echo clinging against my legs for all he was worth.

  And then, too late, I realized I’d let Aidan and Sawyer get me so riled up about making sure Anne lost that I had forgotten to think about one important thing. I had no way to stop.

  23

  ENEMY TERRITORY

  Anne straddled the baseboard of her cart, digging her Keds into the gravel and sending her cart tail-spinning right. Me? I couldn’t get my feet over the high walls of the crate, so I ducked, curling my body over Echo to protect him as best I could. It’s what the Space Warrior would have done.

  My body bounced to the right, then jerked left when I collided with Ziegler’s gate. Wood splintered and my go-cart careened into his backyard, smashing into a tree root that tripped the front axle and snapped it in half. The cart lurched forward, nose-diving into the ground. It buckled, rolled, cracked, and split apart, dumping me out onto the packed dirt and tearing Echo from my arms. Go-cart pieces scattered around me like a giant box of pick-up sticks.

  Echo grunted. He landed ten feet in front of me, ears back and tail lashing. Putting him in the cart was the dumbest thing I’d ever done, second only to racing down Satan’s Sidewalk in the first place. That, and trusting Sawyer.

  I crawled toward Echo, afraid he was hurt, but something stopped me cold.

  Snarling.

  I looked to my right, to the left.

  Nothing.

  Sweat rolled down my forehead, dripped off my nose, and pinpricked my leg. I turned my head just enough to see behind me. What I saw gripped my chest until I couldn’t breathe.

  Ziegler’s two wolfhounds stood so close I could have spit on them if I’d had enough saliva in my mouth. I didn’t. Their heads were lowered, lips curled to show teeth that were white at the tips, yellow in the middle, and black at the gums. The fangs glistened with slobber.

  I heard scrambling in the alley, followed by running, but I didn’t look. My eyes stayed glued on the dogs. I didn’t have a drop of spit left to swallow, but my throat tried anyway. Every muscle and nerve tensed waiting for the attack, wanting to run, expecting to die.

  Aidan and Sawyer’s voices came from above the trees, and I realized they must’ve run into the Mallory house to get a birds-eye view.

  “Where are all your superpowers now?”

  “And your Woodford Br-Br-Bravery?”

  If I tried to escape, the dogs would catch me in less than two steps. Maybe faster. I willed myself to sit still, but the thought of running made my legs twitch. It was just a tiny shudder but those dogs saw it. They growled and barked all at once. I felt the heat from their bodies and prepared to be torn apart. My legs jerked and a scream raked my throat.

  Thwok!

  Thwok!

  Two stones flew across the yard and made contact with the rumps of each giant dog. One of them yelped. I wasn’t sure if it was Odin or Pandora. They both took their eyes off me to face this new attacker.

  I dared to look away. Aidan and Sawyer were exactly where I thought, hanging out of the Mallorys’ second-floor window. But Anne had sneaked into Ziegler’s yard and angled her way along the fence to get a good shot at the hounds with her slingshot. “Run, Cory,” she said. She tried to keep her voice low, but I heard the panic. “Run.”

  I lunged, grabbed Echo, and bolted for the opening in the fence just as the hounds went for Anne, blocking her escape route. She scrambled up the maple, clinging to a branch above the dogs as they reared up and placed giant paws on the trunk, their jaws mere inches from the seat of her pants.

  Echo dug his claws into my shoulders, but I didn’t let him go. The Kid would never abandon the Mighty Echo. I hauled myself up to the second floor of the old Mallory house so fast I didn’t have time to worry about ghosts or rotten floorboards.

  “I thought you were my friend,” I said as I shoved Aidan aside and searched below for Anne. She had scrambled to a higher branch.

  “You think your f-f-family name is better than ours just b-b-because our dads couldn’t enlist like yours. B-B-But we just proved you’re nothing but a chicken, Cory.”

  I couldn’t believe those words were coming out of my best friend’s mouth. I had never bragged. It was just common knowledge that I had to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps. “You fathead,” I snapped. “Did you do this because of Jackson?”

  Aidan shoved me so hard I dropped Echo. “Leave J-J-Jackson out of this.”

  The truth hit me like a German war tank. Sawyer had said this was all about revenge. They had been out for revenge, all right. Only it wasn’t against Germans or Anne. Aidan was getting back at me for stopping him from beating the snot out of Anne. They set me up, turning me into bait for a Nazi spy and his dogs. I had escaped, thanks to Anne. Now those dogs circled the tree, snapping at her Keds. Anne tried to climb higher in the tree but her hand slipped, and she nearly fell.

  “We have to help her,” I said.

  “No. We don’t,” Sawyer told me. “All summer long, you’ve been bragging about saving Harmony from the Germans. Now it’s time to play hardball and put your money where your mouth is. Let her fall, Cory. Let the dogs tear An-YA apart.”

  Aidan nodded. “Time to ch-ch-choose, Cory. Us? Or her?”

  I didn’t want to believe they would actually let Anne get hurt, but their words, so cold and full of hate, hit me in the gut. I suddenly thought of the radio reports describing what the Nazis were doing to Jews and anyone else Hitler hated. Rounding them up and shipping them off to camps in cattle cars. Killing millions without even knowing them. Without knowing the people who were moms and dads and teachers and nurses. Or managers in hardware stores.

  Aidan had been my best friend for as long as I could remember, but it was Anne who had helped me build my go-cart. She was the one who had been there, day in and day out, after Dad died. And it was Anne who had come back to help Echo and me when Aidan had run.

  Mom had been right. Hate was a very dangerous thing.

  “You were right about one thing, Sawyer,” I said. “Actions do speak louder than words. That’s how I know Anne is no more a Nazi than I am.”

  “Of course you’re not. You won’t let us forget that your last name is Woodford. But her last name is Birkbiegler.” Sawyer said. “German. Just like Ziegler.”

  This was a real-life truth-or-dare moment. Keeping my mouth shut would save me, save the Woodford name. But the truth was so powerful that it bubbled up and broke through my impenetrable seal of silence. “You’ve known me all my life, Aidan. You know I’m American through and through, right?”

  “Yeah. S-S-So what?”

  “My great-grandmother’s last name was Kuhljuergen.”

  “You mean you’re one of them?” Sawyer sputtered.

  This game of truth-or-dare had turned deadly real. I stared Sawyer straight in the eyes. “What are you going to do about it? Throw me to the hounds, too?”

  My sidekick, the Mighty Echo, backed me up. “Mrr-oww?”

  I kept my eyes on Sawyer, but I should’ve been watching Aidan, because he was the one who grabbed the scruff of Echo’s neck. I reached for my cat, but Aid
an took a giant step back. Echo hissed, his paws scratching at thin air. “We c-c-can’t throw you, Cory, but we can throw your stupid c-c-cat.”

  And then my best friend dangled Echo out the broken window.

  “Aidan, don’t! You wouldn’t dare.”

  “He’s daring you, Aidan. Do it. I double dog dare you,” Sawyer said with a snort. And then he shoved Aidan. It was just a little push, not really meant to do any harm, but it was enough to throw Aidan off balance. Enough to make him let go of Echo.

  “No!” I screamed. For one horrifying moment my cat twisted through the air before his fall was broken by the tangled branches surrounding Ziegler’s yard. He bounced, slid, and then hit the ground so hard he yowled with pain. He hunkered in Ziegler’s yard, one leg cocked at an angle. The Mighty Echo was trapped dead center in enemy territory, and he was hurt. Bad.

  24

  THE TRUE ADVENTURES OF THE WARRIOR KID

  Pandora and Odin circled Echo, their lips curled up in growling grins.

  No time to think.

  No time to argue.

  Sawyer said something about Echo being a worthless stray. Aidan stammered, his words totally stuck inside his suddenly white face.

  No time to listen.

  No time to fight.

  I flew down the steps, willing my feet to be as fast as the Kid’s HyperSpeed Boots.

  No time. No time. No time.

  A step gave way. I pulled free, splinters clawing into my leg.

  No time. No time. No time.

  Past all the Mallory ghosts. Past the ghosts of Dad and Grandpa. Scattering them all.

  No time. No time. No time.

  Through the Mallorys’ overgrown yard. Around the tight corner to the alley. Straight to what was left of the Demons’ Door.

  I stopped then, heart pounding, blinking away the blur in my eyes.

  The sun glinted off something lying in the middle of Ziegler’s yard. Dad’s silver dollar mocked me from a puddle of sun. I was supposed to be a hero like my grandfather and dad, but I had no Helmet of Power or HyperSpeed Boots and this was no comic book. It was real. I was nothing but a scrawny eleven-year-old kid and I was scared spitless.