Bike Ride
I look back at my sister and ask, “Where’d you get the bike? I’ve never seen it around, there is no way you borrowed one.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “Don’t you want to learn how to ride? So shut up.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I’ve wanted her to teach me for a while. It’s already embarrassing at school hearing other kids talking about their bikes and where they go, the adventures they have. All I can say is, “I don’t have a bike.” To tell the truth, I don’t know how I could ever get one with how poor I am. But I don’t say that to them. I try to hide it.
I look back over to my sister. It’s a miracle that she stole a bike just to teach me.
“Let’s go, come on,” she says.
“Where we going.”
“Up the hill,” she says.
It’s the same hill the bus goes up when I go to school. I like sitting in the back and seeing the neighborhood disappear once we make it up and turn right. I feel like the bus is always struggling up the hill. Like something doesn’t want it to go. But this is exactly where I’ll be riding when I can.. I’ll go a little farther everyday, then have a way out. Other times I watch other people leave up the hill. I’m so surprised when they come back.
“Ok, we’re here.”
“Why are we going towards the hill,” I say.
“I don’t like the people back there, I don’t want you riding back there and then I got to talk to them and stuff. You aren’t going to go down the hill. I’ll stop you before you do.”
I straddle the bike and it feels uncomfortable. It’s not the right size. I need something smaller. I tense up and feel uneasy as my sister says, “I’m going to hold on to the bike unless you tell me to let go.”
We go forward. I can’t really even pedal since the bikes too big. But I do feel like I’m gliding. Like I can actually do it.
“Okay, we’re coming up towards the hill, help me stop.”
But I just kept going. She pushed me harder. Ran with the bike until the hill and just let go.
I don’t even try to pedal. I close my eyes and envision myself making it the whole way down. I use all of my energy to balance. Not even halfway down I feel like the bike is pulled from under me. Forget about balance. Now all my energy is used to break my fall. I purposely turn right towards the grass, tip over, crash and skid partway down the hill. I feel like I was dragged by the same thing that grabs onto the bus. My sister is cackling and slightly concerned because she has to be. But she doesn’t know the significance. I lost the only thing I had left, hope. And I felt like I’d be crashing my entire life.
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “Don’t you want to learn how to ride? So shut up.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I’ve wanted her to teach me for a while. It’s already embarrassing at school hearing other kids talking about their bikes and where they go, the adventures they have. All I can say is, “I don’t have a bike.” To tell the truth, I don’t know how I could ever get one with how poor I am. But I don’t say that to them. I try to hide it.
I look back over to my sister. It’s a miracle that she stole a bike just to teach me.
“Let’s go, come on,” she says.
“Where we going.”
“Up the hill,” she says.
It’s the same hill the bus goes up when I go to school. I like sitting in the back and seeing the neighborhood disappear once we make it up and turn right. I feel like the bus is always struggling up the hill. Like something doesn’t want it to go. But this is exactly where I’ll be riding when I can.. I’ll go a little farther everyday, then have a way out. Other times I watch other people leave up the hill. I’m so surprised when they come back.
“Ok, we’re here.”
“Why are we going towards the hill,” I say.
“I don’t like the people back there, I don’t want you riding back there and then I got to talk to them and stuff. You aren’t going to go down the hill. I’ll stop you before you do.”
I straddle the bike and it feels uncomfortable. It’s not the right size. I need something smaller. I tense up and feel uneasy as my sister says, “I’m going to hold on to the bike unless you tell me to let go.”
We go forward. I can’t really even pedal since the bikes too big. But I do feel like I’m gliding. Like I can actually do it.
“Okay, we’re coming up towards the hill, help me stop.”
But I just kept going. She pushed me harder. Ran with the bike until the hill and just let go.
I don’t even try to pedal. I close my eyes and envision myself making it the whole way down. I use all of my energy to balance. Not even halfway down I feel like the bike is pulled from under me. Forget about balance. Now all my energy is used to break my fall. I purposely turn right towards the grass, tip over, crash and skid partway down the hill. I feel like I was dragged by the same thing that grabs onto the bus. My sister is cackling and slightly concerned because she has to be. But she doesn’t know the significance. I lost the only thing I had left, hope. And I felt like I’d be crashing my entire life.