I THOUGHT THEY WERE GOING TO YELL AT ME—BUT THEY KNELT DOWN INSTEAD
I was trying to fix it myself. My bike chain popped off—again—and I didn’t have the right tools. So there I was, kneeling at the little repair station near the park, pretending like I knew what I was doing.
My hands were greasy, my shoelace had come undone, and I could feel my ears burning every time a car passed by. I didn’t want to ask for help. I just wanted to finish and go home.
Then I heard the tires roll up behind me. Slow. Crunching on the grass.
Cops.
Two of them.
My stomach sank. I thought maybe I wasn’t supposed to be there, or that someone had called about a kid messing around near the street. I didn’t even turn around. I just kept fiddling with the wrench, hoping they’d move on.
But then one of them said, real calm, “Hey, looks like you could use an extra hand.”
I froze.
