Page 16 of Dizzy

I head off uphill, toward the low mountain rising in the distance. There are tons of trails back here, mostly narrow ruts for dirt bikes. I kick up the pace, and my heart starts pumping. My joints loosen as I limber up.

It’s a beautiful day. Perfect blue sky. Wispy white clouds. Red and yellow and orange leaves rustling overhead.

Will I even like living in a big city? Is it true you can’t see the stars ‘cause of all the streetlights? That would suck.

A stiff breeze carries a faint whining buzz, coming from up ahead. Someone’s out riding the trails. They’re far away, though, heading toward the mountain.

I stick to a trail that curves and winds. I hop stones to cross a creek, and pick it up again on the other side.

If I hate New York, there’s no saying I have to stay there.Love Another Dayfilms in Burbank, California. I could try my luck there. It’d be warmer, that’s for damn sure.The world is your oysteras Gram used to say. I’ll get more enthusiastic for the adventure once I get somewhere.

My spirits are rising with my body temperature as I round a bend in the trail.

I gasp.

Holy shit.

There in a forest green flannel and dark jeans is the shaggy dude from the bedroom, kneeling beside a dirt bike lying on its side.

He surges to his feet, and his eyes go wide.

I freeze in the middle of the trail.

“Don’t run,” he says, raising his palms. “We just want to talk to you.”

We? Oh, hell no.

I bolt into the underbrush.

“Hey!” he barks.

His footsteps thud in the dirt behind me, and I pump my arms, lift my knees high. Thorns tear at my skin; vines wrap around my ankles. I trip, biting my cheek. The terrain’s uneven, all ditches and slopes. Felled branches and brambles block my way.

They’re on to me. They know I’ve been sneaking in. I’m dead.

I clamber up a bank, skirting a massive, mossy trunk, forcing a path through. Prickles catch my shirt, tangle in my hair.

Leaves crunch as he tears through the woods behind me.

I push harder. He’s so big. There’s got to be a narrow gap I can slip through, a thicket I can wriggle into and hide, where he can’t follow. A hollow log. Something.

My lungs burn.

We just want to talk to you.

That’s never the truth. Not from the cops. Not from outlaw bikers who catch you trespassing on their property. I lengthen my stride, landing funny on my ankle. There’s a sharp twinge, but I’m not stopping. I limp on, favoring the other leg, and then there’s a clearing ahead.

A creek with wide, pebbled banks runs through it.

“Baby. Stop!”

I pump my arms. Sticks crack and boots pound behind me. I’m not goin’ down easy. I’m—

Flying through the air, twisting, limbs flying, wrapped in impossibly strong arms. I land with jolt on top of a huge, hard man. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs.

Before I can blink, he’s flipped us so I’m underneath him, smooth stones pressing into my back. The creek babbles a few feet from my head.

He’s panting, smiling ear-to-ear, his bright black eyes crinkling at the corners. His beard scratches my upper chest. During the chase, the flannel I stole from him flew open.

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