Some friends fade away….Others disappear. Now in paperback, a riveting mystery that will “keep the pages turning” (Chris Crutcher, author of Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes ). Imagine you and your best friend head out West on a cross-country bike trek. Imagine that you get into a fight—the cheap SOB won’t kick in any cash—and you stop riding together. Imagine you reach Seattle, go home alone, and start college. Imagine you think your former best friend does too. Imagine he didn’t, that he was carrying more than $20,000 in cash the whole trip, and that now the FBI is looking for him. Imagine your world shifting.... Shift is a breathtaking tour-de-force that explores the depths of loyalty and friendship—and the unknowable depths of another person. * "Bradbury's keen details about the bike trip, the places, the weather, the food, the camping, and the locals add wonderful texture to this exciting first nove."--"Booklist", starred review "Endowing both boys with a heavy dose of idealism, responsibility and self-preservation, Bradbury makes their growth feel genuine and even profound."--"Publishers Weekly" "The journey [is] the kind of glorious, frustrating, life-changing experience that the boys had hoped and that readers will yearningly imagine....Readers will come for the thrill of the open road and stay for an authentic picture of a friendship between two young men about to tackle adulthood in very different ways."--"The Bulletin for the Center of Children's Books" "This is great realistic mystery. Jennifer Bradbury tells a totally believable, totally engrossing story. You will keep the pages turning." -- Chris Crutcher, the Margaret A. Edwards Award-winning author of "Deadline" and "Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes" Jennifer Bradbury is the author of the middle grade novel River Runs Deep and of several critically acclaimed young adult novels, including, Take , A Moment Comes , Wrapped , and her debut, Shift —which Kirkus Reviews called “fresh, absorbing, compelling” in a starred review. Shift was picked as an ALA and a School Library Journal Best Book for Young Adults and is also on numerous state reading lists. She is also a rock climber and teacher in Burlington, Washington, where she lives with her family. Shift CHAPTER ONE The nose of the seat bit into my shoulder as the toe clip scraped the back of my thigh. I wrestled the bike through the dorm’s gaping front doors, the derailleur cable snagging on the knob as I stepped inside. I lurched, swore, and hoped none of the half-dozen people hanging around the sweltering lobby were watching. I tried to block out the lingering smells of puke and cheap beer as I headed for the row of mailboxes along the far wall. Through the glass of box number 118, I saw a small scrap of green paper. As I fumbled in my pocket for my box key, the bike slipped off my shoulder and crashed to the tile floor. I swore again, let the bike lay where it fell, and pulled the message out of the mailbox. TO: Chris Collins FROM: Your mommy RE: Win NOTES: Call home immediately. Urgent. I had to start carrying my cell phone. Mom had probably left a couple of messages on it already. She was pretty thorough when she got panicky, and lately she panicked a lot. Part of it was her having a hard time letting go. The other part had more to do with what happened this summer. Still, I couldn’t imagine what qualified as urgent these days with her. Had she found another one of my socks in the dryer? The desk phone rang. Behind the counter another freshman who’d fared better in the work-study lottery than I had answered while managing to keep his gaze on the TV blaring from across the mock living room, a mixture of sweaty tile, cast-off couches, and giant floor fans that had to have been around since the eighties. “Armstrong Hall,” he mumbled as I shut the mailbox, shoved the message and key into my pocket, and heaved my bike back onto my shoulder. But then a voice too close made me jump. “I hear those things are a lot easier if you ride them instead of letting them ride you,” said a man in a dark suit as he gestured toward the bike. I nodded, looked the guy over. “Chain busted on the way back from the square,” I said, wondering why this guy had decided I looked like I was in a mood for conversation. The tie meant he was probably someone’s dad. “Too bad,” he said. I shrugged, causing the bike to slip again, the back wheel banging into the mailboxes. The whole cycling-around-campus thing hadn’t turned out to be as cool as I’d imagined. People in the way. Speed bumps. Crowded sidewalks. Stairs. I missed the road. “Nice talking to you,” I said, taking a step toward the hallway. “You’re Christopher Collins.” No hint of a question in his voice. I answered anyway, taking another look at him as I did so. He must have been at least six feet tall, because I could look him straight in the eyes without slouching, but he had me by forty pounds, easy. Not