On My Honor Read Online Free PDF Page B

through his brain. The woods at the park were dense. He could hide his bike easily ... and then himself. Maybe he could even find a cave in the bluffs that he could stay in. He could live on berries and roots the way the Indians had done. They had hidden out on top of Starved Rock bluff to get away from an enemy tribe, but he couldn't do that. There were footpaths and fences on top of the bluffs now ... tourists, too. Anyway, an enemy tribe had trapped the Indians up there, starved them to death, giving the park its name.
    A semi roared past, the suction of the huge wheels tugging at Joel and at his bicycle. All he would need to do would be to loosen his grip. The truck would take care of the rest.
    Joel stopped pedaling, steered onto the shoulder, and dropped heavily off the bike. What was he doing? Did he really think he was going to hide out? And if he found some place to hide in, how long could he stay? Until he grew up ... or died? But it wasn't his fault, was it? Just because he didn't follow his father's orders, that didn't make what happened to Tony his fault.
    His father was the one who had said it was all right to ride to the park in the first place. Joel hadn't even wanted to go.
    And then there was Tony, crazy Tony, insisting on swimming in the river when he couldn't even swim that well.
    Joel expelled a long breath. He felt lighter, somehow. He glanced both ways, then walked his bike across the road and started back in the direction he had come from. He would go home. That was where he belonged ... no matter what had happened.
    He began to pedal again, his bike in the highest gear so the least movement on his part propelled him the farthest. Home, the narrow tires sang against the pavement. Home.
    There was one thing he needed, though. He needed to decide what to tell his parents—and the Zabrinskys—when they asked about Tony.
    He could tell them ... he could tell them that he and Tony had started to ride their bikes out to Starved Rock. He could tell them that Tony had stopped when they were crossing the bridge. It was so hot. The river was there ... cool and wet. Tony wanted to go swimming.
    It was the truth, wasn't it?
    And then he could tell them how he'd tried to talk Tony out of going into the river. And he could explain that Tony wouldn't listen, because Tony never listened once he had made up his mind. But then Joel would remind his father of the promise he had made that morning. He would say that he told Tony he couldn't go down to the river with him.
    He would tell how he had ridden on to Starved Rock by himself. The day was hot, though, and it wasn't much fun riding so far without Tony, so he'd turned around to come back.
    The explanation assembled itself in Joel's mind, logical and complete. Why hadn't he thought of it before? What had made him run away? He loosened his clenched fingers, one at a time, from the handlegrips and kept pedaling toward home.
    But when he arrived at the top of the ridge overlooking the Vermillion River again, he stopped and stared at the road, the bridge, the wall of trees nearly obscuring the water. If only there were some other way to get home. He didn't know another route into town, though. Besides, the fire in his thighs had moved into his calves, his shoulders were cramped, and any other route home would undoubtedly be longer than this one.
    Joel squeezed the hand brakes and began to creep down the steep hill toward the bridge, the brake pads squealing lightly against the wheels.
    Tony had stayed behind to go swimming. That was what Joel would tell everybody. But if he had really ridden on to Starved Rock when Tony had gone down to the water, he would have stopped to check on Tony on the way back ... because he wouldn't know.
    Joel reached the bridge, still holding the bike in tight control, and pedaled slowly across, keeping his eyes carefully on the road. At the other side, though, he hesitated, stopped, wheeled his bike down the embankment, and propped it against