Lindsay's Joyride

by Molly Hurford

  Thankfully, Phoebe walks back. “You girls ready to play?” she asks, and we all nod.

  We start with some really basic stuff that Phoebe taught me yesterday—the rules of Joyride, how to follow the arrows around and ride on the right side of the trails that lead all over the building, where the bathrooms are, and how to stop our bikes. Ali already knows all of it and keeps talking over Phoebe a little. Phoebe doesn’t seem to mind, and Ali’s chatter lets me keep quiet and stay behind both her and Jen.

  We’re not doing anything like the jump that I did yesterday, but in some ways, it’s just as scary since I’m trying hard to stay behind Jen without running into her, especially since we keep speeding up and slowing down as we navigate around the park. Bike riding…not as easy as I remembered! There’s a lot more precision involved than I thought—which I realize as I try to slow down but instead manage to drive my front tire into a low wall. Smooth, Linds. Real smooth.

  But it’s exhilarating at the same time: trying to stay right behind Jen almost feels like I’m in a video game, but my bike is the controller. After the first few laps around the park just to get used to our bikes, I start sort of figuring it out, which means that it’s time for Phoebe to tell us to stop and take a quick break.

  Okay, time for some training rules for this new plan of mine: to be a superhero on the bike by the end of summer.

  Superhero Tip: First rule: Love your bike like it’s your favorite stuffed animal or your pet. That means taking care of it. When Phoebe walked out of the room, she stopped, turned, and told me if she ever saw it with a dent, scuff, or scratch that was caused from me leaving it lying around, and not from getting “too rad” (her words, not mine), she’d take it back. And that I’d better keep it clean. Now I understand why her van is so meticulously tidy. She’s not a supervillain; she’s just really, really careful with her stuff. Which, I suppose, is good advice for anyone.

  Anyway, I know that the Justice League is a cool group to be part of. But I’m more a loner like Batman (though he does have Robin and Batgirl, I guess). Joining clubs has never been my thing, and having to embarrass myself in front of girls I don’t know at all? Nightmare.

  At least I have a cool bike. It’s sort of like bringing the Batmobile to a Justice League meeting.

  But it turns out that Phoebe’s training program is more than just riding bikes or owning a nice one. Before we get to hit any of the cool jumps that line the back half of the park, she has us off the bikes and on the floor doing what she calls planks. I’ve seen videos of people planking—doing planks in weird spots—but have you ever tried it? It’s hard!

  Regretfully yours,

  Lindsay

  (That’s too whiny.)

  CHAPTER 12

  My arms are shaking with the effort of holding a high push-up position, and Phoebe’s suggestion that I put my butt down and look forward is more distracting than helpful. I almost fall over a couple of times, and when I sneak a glance at Jen and Ali, they both seem to be doing a lot better than me. But I don’t want to be the first one to topple, so I stay up, arms shaking.

  Phoebe explained that core stability is going to help us with our riding—so our stomach muscles need to be in good shape. And apparently, planks are a good way to get there. So I stay up.

  That is, until I just can’t anymore, and slowly lower my knees to the ground. I can feel my face get red with embarrassment. I’m sure that the other girls are going to make fun of me. But when I look over, they haven’t even noticed that I’m down—they’re turning red too, trying to stay up. Ali finally stands up, wiping her hands on her shorts and breathing hard, and only when she’s up does Jen collapse in a heap, panting.

  “Why would you do this to us?” Jen whines.

  I’m thinking the same thing, and I wonder if Phoebe really does have a diabolical plan of some kind. After all, why else would she be torturing us?

  “Guys, if you want to ride bikes well, you need to have a strong foundation,” she says. “It’s not all cool tricks and crazy stunts. There’s a lot of base work that goes into building up to be a great cyclist. Now, get on your bikes and do three laps of the outside of the park.”

  We all groan but grab our bikes. “I thought this was going to be all jumping,” Jen says, but she seems happy to be doing more actual riding. She rips around a corner without touching her brakes, while I slowly pedal through it, holding mine so tightly that I basically am stopped right in the middle of the turn.

  Phoebe waves me over before I hit the next turn. “Try to slow down before you go into a corner; it’ll feel a lot better,” she tells me. I nod, but that seems ridiculous. Why would I slow down even earlier?

  As the next corner comes up, Phoebe yells, “Brake now!” as I’m still thirty feet away. I slow down a little, listening to her. As the corner comes up, she shouts, “Let go of your brakes,” and I do. The corner comes, and I smoothly (okay, not smoothly but a little more steadily) get around it.

  Half a lap in, I can feel myself sweating. Ali and Jen are just about to turn a corner, but I’m falling so far behind that, as soon as they make the turn, I’ll lose sight of them. Maybe I’m not cut out for this. I think of my backpack in the corner, full of comic books, with a longing that I didn’t know I could feel. Sitting down to read has never sounded so good. And reading always sounds good to me!

  As I’m about to flip my bike and race back to my backpack, Phoebe glides up next to me. Man, she’s sneaky!

  “You know,” she says, lowering her voice, “those two have been riding for years already. You’re on your second day of riding.”

  “So?” I can’t help but ask moodily, scowling at the air ahead of me where Ali and Jen used to be.

  “So they have a lot more practice and they’re going to be faster at first,” she says. “With a little work, you’ll be right behind them.”

  “But still behind?” I grump.

  “For now,” she tells me, and pats me on the shoulder before pulling over to the side and whipping out her phone. “Smile!” she says, and snaps a picture while I’m caught between a snarl and a grin.

  Now, that’s a Christmas card.

  But I do keep riding. And as the first lap of the room finishes, my legs aren’t burning as much, and my breathing has settled down. I’m not going any faster—but I’m not getting any slower either.

  Things are starting to feel less terrifying and more natural the more I’m riding, and as I turn one corner, suddenly I can see Ali and Jen again. I’m sweating and breathing hard, and when I try to go a little faster to catch up to them, I swerve just a bit and smash my shoulder against the wall. It explodes with pain, and I grunt as I topple off my bike.

  For a second, I’m afraid I’m going to start crying, huddling in a ball on the floor—it hurts and I hate this stupid sport. Wonder Woman never gets hurt like this….I mean, sure, she has to battle pretty big monsters and I’m guessing she’s crashed her invisible jet, but she has super strength and I clearly don’t. To add insult to injury, I’m also tangled in and under my bike, and can’t quite figure out how to get up. After a few seconds, the pain in my shoulder eases—okay, maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought—and my face is red more with embarrassment than actual hurt. Klutzes probably shouldn’t ride bikes, I think. Maybe I should return it to Phoebe…that is, if I can ever get back on my feet.

  “Need a hand?”

  I crane my neck (oww!) and there’s a boy my age, reaching down toward me, and of course, I realize, it’s the cute one I spotted yesterday. I can feel my face turn bright red. Great. The dream boy talks to me but only because I just embarrassed myself in front of him. Now I’ve completely forgotten about my shoulder and am focused entirely on looking as casual as one can when one is trapped under one’s bike. That is to say, not very.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says, like he
’s reading my mind. “I’ve already crashed three times today. It means you’re trying, right?”

  He pulls me to standing, and I just nod dumbly, my brain racing to think of something remotely witty to say in response. “I’m Dave,” he says, smiling. He has shaggy light brown hair, and he’s wearing flannel, jeans, and a lot more safety gear than most of the other kids. Maybe he really has already crashed a few times today. His hand is calloused, and I can see scars on it as he steadies me. “You okay? Did you hit your head?” He looks really concerned.

  “No…I’m just awkward,” I blurt out, and instantly wish I could take it back.

  “Okay, Awkward,” he says. “But is there another name I could call you?” He doesn’t look like he’s laughing at me, but he is smiling.

  “Lindsay,” I say, impressed that I managed to answer a question correctly.

  “Well, have a good ride, Lindsay. Don’t worry about that fall. It really does happen all the time,” he says, getting back on his bike. “Maybe I’ll see you around again. I really like your bike.”

  I stand there for a minute, slightly stupefied, but internally I’m jumping up and down.

  Maybe this sport isn’t so bad after all.

  Either way, I really owe Phoebe for giving me this bike.

  Cute boy and embarrassing moment, scary girls but no embarrassing moments—I think I would call this day an overall win. But it turns out actual, real-life training that’s not in my head or in the basement makes a girl really, really hungry. Thankfully, Phoebe says we can get a snack on the way home. Otherwise, I was going to consider eating this journal.

  Superhero Tip: Always have snacks on hand. (I’ll remember that for next time.)

  Famished,

  Lindsay

  (Accurate, but hopefully not all the time.)

  CHAPTER 13

  We drive immediately to the diner, thankfully, and after Phoebe orders, we sit down to wait for our disco fries, my favorite “not allowed at home because it’s crazy unhealthy” snack: fries with cheese curds and gravy on top.

  “So be honest,” she says, sipping her black coffee while I chug water like it’s going out of style. Riding bikes makes you thirsty! “How did you like today’s practice?”

  “It was good,” I say slowly. “But I don’t think the girls like me very much.”

  “Did you try talking to them?” she asks.

  “No,” I admit. “I thought they were going to laugh when I couldn’t hold a plank as long as they could or do the same tricks.” The waitress sets down our fries.

  “Here’s the thing,” Phoebe says, snagging a fry and waving it for emphasis as steam comes off it. “Did you notice the time Ali almost fell off the bike in that easy corner? Or when Jen tripped walking back to her bike?”

  I definitely didn’t and shake my head. (My mouth is full of delicious fries. They are maybe too hot to cram into my mouth but worth it.)

  “Exactly,” she says. “You didn’t notice that, and they certainly didn’t notice you not holding a plank as long as they did. Besides, they know you’re new at this. But I know that the worst part for you isn’t the riding. Admit it: it’s the chatting.”

  “Talking to people is really hard,” I say, and I know that sounds like a joke, but I really do mean it.

  “I get it, because I’m the same way,” Phoebe says. “To be honest, I was even a little scared of Ali and Jen when I met them. But if you don’t talk to the other girls, you can’t expect them to talk to you. It’s a bummer, but people like us can look like we’re stuck-up when we’re really just scared.”

  If I hadn’t swallowed, the fries would be falling out of my mouth, which is currently hanging open. She’s right, I realize. I didn’t notice what they were doing or how they were riding, really, because I was so worried about me.

  “I still don’t think Jen wants to talk to me,” I say stubbornly. Because, to be honest, she didn’t seem that friendly.

  “Think about it,” Phoebe says, waving a fry at me. “Did you really want to talk to her? She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl you’d usually hang out with, so maybe she felt the same about you. But you two are here for the whole summer, and you do both have bikes in common, so maybe you do have something to talk about.”

  I hate when she makes points like that. “I guess,” I mutter.

  And okay, I admit, using Phoebe’s logic, she does have a point. Since I haven’t been starting conversations with Ali or Jen, I might actually be the snobby one here. Especially since I already know Phoebe and they’re the new kids in the area. And thinking about that, it reminds me of being in school and not having any friends. Maybe it’s not that kids aren’t talking to me.

  Maybe it’s that I’m not talking to them.

  I might have to rethink a lot of things. But before I spend too much time quietly thinking, I should probably take the first step toward actually making two friends, since I have a captive audience with them at Joyride.

  “Can I borrow your phone?” I ask Phoebe. She hands it over. I know she has Jen’s and Ali’s numbers in there from today, so I try not to let my hands shake too much as I call Ali. She seemed more outgoing and inclined to be friendly, and I think she’ll be easier to start with. Jen, I might need to work up to a little more, but I’ll get there.

  “Hello…hello?” Oh no. Ali actually answers.

  I freeze a bit but force myself to act calm. “Hey, Ali, it’s Lindsay, Phoebe’s cousin from today.”

  “What’s up?” She sounds friendly enough, and she didn’t hang up—that’s a good sign.

  “Just wondering if you were going to Joyride later this week.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll be there at four tomorrow afternoon so I can work on that jump line again. What about you?”

  “Four?” I look over at Phoebe, raising my eyebrows, and she nods.

  “We’ll be there. Want to ride together?” I ask boldly. Well, it probably comes out as more of a squeak. But in my head, it’s pretty bold. It would be written in bold in a comic book font, at least.

  “Sure, see you then!”

  I say goodbye and hang up, breathing a little fast. Phoebe puts her closed hand out for a fist bump. I don’t know that I handle the bump with the proper etiquette, but we make some kind of hand-to-hand contact, so I’ll call it a win.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asks smugly, and I can’t find a single reason to disagree. It turns out talking to kids isn’t really that scary, once you get started. I’m actually excited to get to the park tomorrow to hang out, even if there’s a nagging voice in the back of my head already wondering what the heck we’ll talk about.

  I still don’t know how my cousin turned into someone who coaches people to ride bikes, but it’s starting to seem like a really cool career path. Of course, I think I need a whole bunch more practice, but I have a pretty great starting point. And today, I sort of started coming up with a comic-book-worthy idea of where I want to be by the end of the summer. While I was in the bathroom at Joyride, I noticed a flyer tacked on the stall door. It was for a BMX jumping competition that’s coming up in a few weeks, and it said there were three levels—beginner, intermediate, and advanced. I’m a beginner, right? And I don’t think I’m the only one who noticed: I’m pretty sure it’s the contest that Ali was talking about it when she first came in. The prizes? An amazing-looking gold bike frame—and there’s one for each of the three categories. (I love mine, but still…gold!) You also get a check that’s supposed to go toward your training for the year—lessons, a pass to Joyride, coaching, that kind of stuff. I’ve never played a sport in my life or competed in something that wasn’t for school, but I tore the flyer down and stuffed it in my pocket. I don’t know if I want to talk to Phoebe about doing the competition yet, but after looking at the jumps today, I absolutely, positively know that I wan
t to be able to do the cool tricks some of the other kids were doing. I could imagine myself in their shoes, I could feel my heart beating faster, and I loved it.

  Superhero Tip: Any good superhero story has a climactic moment of high drama. Pick one for yourself…like a competition.

  Getting a little closer to a superhero plot,

  Lindsay

  (Hopefully, this is correct, but it’s not really a sign-off.)

  CHAPTER 14

  I accidentally managed to find the best teacher around when it comes to jumping, apparently. As we finished up at the park today, Phoebe grabbed one of the bikes and hit one of the bigger jumps, spinning her handlebars while she soared through the air before landing and hopping off. She had a huge smile on her face, and the kid she was talking to before she dropped into the jump line—that’s the technical lingo—was staring, gobsmacked.

  The jump lines at Joyride consist of five wooden bumps (or jumps, I suppose) that you drop in to. That means you start on a little platform and roll down a ramp before going up the first of the bumps, and as you go over each, you jump so you don’t really touch the top. You sort of float on the small ones, and as the bumps get bigger, the hops you do over each get bigger as well, so you’re flying over the top before touching down on the backside. It’s pretty cool.

  Phoebe has kind of gone from supervillain to superhero in my book. I think I get why my parents wanted me to spend time with her.

  I hate when they’re right—it’s so annoying. And it happens so often! On my last call with them—a shaky Skype connection, but at least I could see their faces—they seemed completely surprised that Phoebe had actually gotten me onto a bike and that I was excited about it. I even showed them the bike Phoebe gave me, and told them about the jumps that I was working on. They were a little stunned, honestly….But even more stunned when I told them it was okay if they didn’t bring me back any artifacts. I don’t need some old Estonian vase imbued with superpowers anymore; I’m figuring my own out.