I spun around, my fists up in the air, ready for a fight. Wait a minute, I reasoned with myself, the Goon Squad didn’t know my nickname. I lowered my fists. It was Bones. He must’ve run around the block and lost the two dopes. I sighed with relief, but he looked worried. 

“Lump, we gotta climb. They’ll be coming back.” Climb? What was he talking about? 

I followed his gaze across the street and up to the giant oak tree. Of course. he wanted to climb up the tree and hide. Well, it’s not like I had a better plan anyway. 

I was following Bones and we were about four or five branches up when he looked over his shoulder and put his finger to his lips. Down below, Gordo and Mazz slowly pedaled past. Trailing a few feet behind them on his beat-up bike was Quiet Cal. It seemed strange he was always riding behind them and not next to them—was he not allowed to ride next to them?

As Quiet Cal passed under us, Bones whispered, “If they got a green guy, they could be the Wiggles.” 

I clapped my hand over my mouth, trying hard not to laugh, but snot jetted out of my nose. Quiet Cal stopped right under our tree. If he looked up, we’d be done for. Bones and I looked at each other, our eyes wide. Cal swiveled his head left, then right, then he slowly put his feet back on the pedals and rode away. 

Bones was smiling ear to ear. “Lump,” he whispered, “the seventies are a ton of fun, aren’t they?” 

I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah, Bones, way cool.”

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