The Boy Who By Lynn Eager
The boy who stole my bike was a dirty little boy, who tended to pick on the smaller children in the neighborhood. I was pretty mad when I discovered my bike was stolen and I made a pretty loud stink about my missing bike. I called the police and reported the theft.
Later, the bike was recovered and the boy was arrested, he looked so small when they put him in the back of the police car. I found out several weeks later, he had stolen the bike because he wanted to have a paper route. It seems his mom had lost her job and his dad had not been around for several years. Because of the lack of money, the family survived on little more than ketchup sandwiches
The Boy Who by Chelsea Eager
The boy who died when I was nine is the reason his brother hates me. Or at least I think he hates me. Like, he always scowls, I guess, and he doesn’t really talk. He just kind of grunts. So maybe he hates everyone. But he super crazy hates me. I know because today in the hall I said “Excuse me please” as nice as I could, cause, hello, his brother died and he had no friends and that sucks so I obviously feel bad for the guy. But instead of move, he looked at me in this weird way. A way that made me feel like he knew everything about me, what I ate for breakfast, what color my underwear were, what I got for Christmas when I was 3 and three quarters. The look also made me feel like he wanted to sneak in my room at night and murder me while I slept. Scratch that, he would wake me up first because he would want me to know it was him. Anyway, it’s his brothers fault on account of the fact that he was the one who found him. Like no shit, legit found his brother dead in the backyard. And when you’re nine, you don’t understand dying on purpose. You don’t understand dying at all, really. But I guess he kind of had to have an idea. And what kind of a way to grow up is that? If you see your brother hanging from the tree you fell out of and broke your arm when you were 6, you’re not a kid anymore