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“Very good,” said Officer Watson. She leaned on Marvin’s desk and stared right into his eyes. “What about you, Marvin?” she asked. “What if everyone said, ‘Marvin Redpost is chicken!’?”

She made him feel nervous. “I—I still w-wouldn’t,” he said.

“Good for you,” she said. “That’s not being scared. That’s being smart. Remember, taking drugs doesn’t make you brave. It takes a lot more courage, sometimes, to say no to your friends.”

Marvin nodded. His hands were sweaty. His body was tense. His heart was beating a little faster than normal. He took a deep breath.

6

Still Only Thursday

Marvin sat on a stool in the kitchen. He stared at the wall. He’d been sitting that way ever since he got home from school.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Should he look his fear in the eye and ride down Suicide Hill? Or was that stupid, like taking drugs? Officer Watson had said that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is say no to your friends.

He knew his friends wouldn’t think he was being brave. They’d think he was scared.

And they’d be right. He was scared of Suicide Hill. But maybe he was smart to be scared.

His father had told Linzy she had to stand up to her fears. But Suicide Hill was different than thunder and lightning. He could get hurt going down Suicide Hill. Thunder and lightning couldn’t hurt Linzy.

No, that wasn’t true either, he realized. Maybe thunder couldn’t hurt her, but if she got struck by lightning, it could kill her. Maybe Linzy was right. Maybe lightning could come through the computer.

Going down Suicide Hill wasn’t as bad as being struck by lightning. He didn’t think he’d be killed going down Suicide Hill. Maybe just break an arm and a leg.

Other kids have ridden down Suicide Hill, he reminded himself. They didn’t get hurt.

So? Other kids have taken drugs, too. Just because other kids do something, that doesn’t mean you should, too. If your friends jump off the Empire State Building, that doesn’t mean you should, too.

But Nick and Stuart weren’t even jumping off the Empire State Building. They just expected him to jump.

Maybe his friends had forgotten all about Suicide Hill. Nobody mentioned it once today at school. All anyone talked about was Officer Watson and the lie detector.

He never felt more confused in his life. He wished he could practice riding his bike. He needed to see how the brakes and gears worked.

He remembered the man at the bike shop telling him never to use just the front brake. He was supposed to use the back brake, or both brakes together. If he tried to stop using just the front brake, the bike might flip over on his head.

The front door opened. “Hey, Mar,” said Jacob.

“Hiya, Marvin,” said Nate. Nate was Jacob’s best friend.

They threw their backpacks on the counter and attacked the refrigerator.

“I hear you’re going to ride down Suicide Hill,” said Nate.

“Uh, maybe,” said Marvin.

“You better not wimp out,” said Nate. “Some of the guys at school said you were a baby, but I stuck up for you. Now my reputation is on the line.”

Marvin didn’t say anything. He couldn’t believe middle school kids had been talking about him, a puny third grader.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked his brother.

“Sure,” said Jacob, his mouth full of cookies and pickles.

“How do you know which is front and which is back?”

“What?” asked Jacob.


Tags: Louis Sachar Marvin Redpost Fiction