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Time to settle down. But—
    "There’s a code, Bodboy. Respect is owed. C’mon, you and Tom and the whole scringe posse know about traditional family values . When yuh’re gonna marry someone, when the hand is given, ring on th’ finger, you don’t go visit your ex-boyfriend. Not even to crack-off his car. You don’t leave love notes. You don’t yearn . Nope. Dissing ol’ Garton is a bad idea. Secret rendezvous—don’t think so."
    "Look," snarled Bud. "She asked me to be here, in public. She thought it would help her end all this stuff from back in S’Fran. It’s not some violin-romance deal. I don’t have that kind of interest in her—"
    "Hey! You puttin’ down the woman of my future? "
    "She said you were the one who suggested all this, man."
    Baxx chuckled as he swerved close. "Yeah? You believe what a crazy person says?" He stopped twenty feet away and the grin suddenly dropped off his face. "You’re not walking out of here, Bud Barclay."
    Bud had been in many a fight. His fists knotted. "What did you do to her, Baxx? Where is she? "
    "Aw, not so far away. As the crow flies." Baxx held up a hand. Bud noticed for the first time that his black gloves had small copper-colored buttons on the fingertips—and that wires led along his arms and under his shirt. "Nice. Worksaver. Say, did you know ‘TASER’ means ‘Tom A. Swift Electric Rifle’? Truth. But who needs a taser when you got The Glove?" He began to roll closer, very slow and steady. He extended his right hand. "Shake, dude!"
    Bud knew he should run, but hesitated. His own respect, for himself, was being challenged. This was now moose-to-moose. He didn’t like to run. But then again... he was a runner. A good one. Jetz, you can’t win a slugout with electricity! he reasoned, trying to overcome the sheer maleness of his hormones and flooding adrenaline. He threw himself backwards away from Baxx and began to pivot.
    But Garton Baxx was a pro. He knew his four wheels and board. His circling had been strategic, maneuvering Bud into a vulnerable position. Now, as the Shoptonian started to tear out, he heard the board ricochet off the planter near them. The boarder clomped down a couple yards in front of Bud, palm in front of Bud’s face like a stop sign.
    Bud twisted and dropped violently, darting beneath Baxx’s arm, then popping up again. The maneuver cost Bud speed. Baxx was already correcting, zooming past and blocking the way, with a laugh.
    Bud was corralled in a wild spiral of passes and charges on all sides. He couldn’t break through the one-man line, and he didn’t dare charge his opponent.
    He decided to wait for whatever brief moment of distraction his foe might offer. As Baxx deftly flipped around ten feet away, Bud dug out toward the sidewalk and the narrow band of shrubs lining it. Can’t skate through the tree roots, his thoughts assured him.
    But first he had to reach the tree roots. And he didn’t.
    He barely registered the metal rush behind him, closing fast and deadly. Then something icy cold brushed the back of his neck. Bud noted, without any particular feeling, that his legs had folded up. He was down on the concrete like a laundry sack. His muscles twitched with shock. He couldn’t rise.
    The board rolled into view, stopped. A scraggly head lowered into sight.
    Baxx was panting and grinning, his blond hair, greasy with sweat, stringing down beneath his cap. Half kneeling, he extended a gloved hand. "Took a bad one, huh, Bud? Here, bo, let me help you up."
    The glove came down on Bud’s bare forearm. And that was it for Bud.
     

CHAPTER 6
TIMELESS TOWN
    BUD was surprised not to hurt. He lay on his back, on asphalt. There was sun on the other side of his eyelids, but the asphalt was cool, as if the morning were new.
    His eyelids didn’t want to come up. He almost had to pry them. Then he looked, and pushed himself up on his palms to look again, turning over and raising his head.
    "Okay," he breathed, "okay. Niagara Falls,