"I'm not saying I'm better than them," he answered. "I just think they might be looking at a different problem. Could I hear it turn over once more?"
The request was modest. That made Garrett angrier. A boy wearing clothes that suggested he had hardly enough money for food was asking to be treated as somebody whose judgment belonged in the conversation. Garrett had spent his life confusing authority with dominance, and an unafraid request from a stranger felt like a challenge even when it was not intended as one.
Vince stepped forward. His neck was tattooed, his forearms thick, and he had spent enough time beside Garrett to recognize when joining a humiliation might earn approving laughter. He took Owen's backpack by one strap and pulled it away. The boy turned, surprised, and reached toward it before realizing that any sudden movement might make the situation worse.
"What've you got in there?" Vince asked. "A certificate from the school of pretending?"
He tipped the bag over. A water bottle, sandwich wrapper, pencil, folded bus schedule, and library book spilled onto the pavement. The book opened near the center, its pages covered with diagrams of fuel systems and combustion cycles. Another rider lifted it, read the title aloud, and held it above his head as though displaying a comedy prop.
"Fundamentals of Internal Combustion Engines," the rider announced. "Listen up. We got ourselves a professor."
Several men laughed. The rider dropped the book into a dark stain left by a leaking motorcycle, then placed his boot on the cover. Owen felt his face heat. The book was not his; he knew exactly what the library would charge if he returned it ruined, and that amount was greater than he could spare.
He bent down without speaking. He asked the rider to move his foot, and the man did, startled by the absence of anger in the request. Owen picked up the book, wiped its cover with the inside of his shirt, and slid it into his bag. The pages were damaged but intact. He checked the binding before standing.
A woman standing near the fence lowered her phone. She had been recording because she expected something funny to happen. The look on Owen's face when he rescued the book made her suddenly uncertain what kind of spectacle she had joined. She considered saying something and did not.
Garrett watched the exchange from beside Black Fury. "You're still here?" he asked. "You got something to prove, or do you enjoy being laughed at?"
"I think I can fix your bike."