Wild Ride (3 page)
Slowly but surely, he began to get a feel for the trail. He relaxed his grip on the brakes and started to gain speed. He spied a tree root sticking up in the path, pulled back on the handlebars, and jumped his bike over it. With a grin, he twisted around a sharp curve and took the next straightaway at full tilt. When he spotted a small puddle in the middle of the trail, he aimed for it, whooping with glee.
The puddle was much deeper than it looked. Instead of splashing through it easily, his front tire hit the hole with so much force that Jonas’s teeth rattled and he lost his grip on the handlebars. Arms wheeling, he flew backward and landed with dull thud at the foot of a pine tree. The bike skidded sideways, leaving a shallow rut in the soft mud before crashing into the brush.
Jonas lay on his back, stunned. After a minute, he sat up and examined himself gingerly. He was covered with muddy leaves and pine needles, and he could feel the beginnings of some bruises. But other than that, he seemed unhurt.
He got to his feet and walked over to where his bike had toppled over, certain he’d find a crumpled heap of metal and rubber. But when he set the bike upright and gave it a quick once-over, he discovered that it looked fine.
He took a deep, shaky breath and sat down next to his bike. “Wow, am I lucky,” he whispered to the trees. And as he reached for his water bottle, it hit him full force just
how
lucky he was: There was no one else on the mountain. His bike could have been broken apart into a million pieces. He could have been thrown against the pine tree. A sudden image of himself laying in the woods, unconscious and bleeding as the sun slowly set, flashed through his brain. It was followed by another picture of his father frantically searching for his only son.
And he wouldn’t know where to look, because no one knows I’m here!
Jonas no longer cared how much time it took him to get down the mountain. He just wanted to get home safely. So instead of climbing back onto his bike, he walked it the rest of the way down. Only after he emerged at the parking lot and retrieved his backpack did he start to ride again.
He was halfway home when he realized something was wrong. His bike chain was catching every time he pedaled. He didn’t have time to examine it, though — his watch told him it was already two o’clock. He had only an hour to do a full list of chores before his father returned.
At home, he stowed his muddy bike in the garage, promising himself he’d clean it and check the chain right after he finished the housework. But when he read the list his father had left him, he groaned.
I’m supposed to empty the dishwasher, tidy up my bedroom and the basement, take out the trash,
and
vacuum the whole downstairs?
he thought as he changed out of his rain-and mud-soaked clothes.
That’ll take forever!
It didn’t take forever, but it did take most of the hour. When he finally finished, all he wanted to do was flop on the sofa and watch television. Then he remembered that he still hadn’t taken care of his bike. With a sigh, he went out to the garage. His bike was right where he’d left it — but he was shocked by how bad it looked.
While he’d been cleaning the house, the mud splotches on the frame had dried, leaving the bike covered in flaky dirt. The paint had new scratches on it that Jonas hadn’t noticed earlier. And he saw that the reflector from his back wheel was missing.
Jonas realized once again just how lucky he’d been to walk away from his fall with only a few bruises. He returned to the kitchen to get some clean rags. But before he could find any, he heard the garage door open and a car drive in.
“Hey, Jonas!” he heard his father call. “I hope you got those chores done, because I have some plans for us this afternoon!”
Mr. Malloy entered the kitchen a moment later. He was holding two tickets. “They’re for that skateboard movie you’ve been dying to see,” he announced. “Show starts in twenty minutes. We’ll grab a bite to eat after that, okay?”
Jonas hesitated, his thoughts on his bike. If he went with his dad, he might not get to it until the next day. But he couldn’t very well tell his father that he needed to clean his bike instead of going to the movies. His father would want to know why it was so urgent, and he might even want to see the bike!
As it turned out, his father solved the problem for him.
“Did you get caught in that rainstorm on the way home?” Mr. Malloy asked. “There were some pretty big puddles.” He pointed to his feet. “I stepped in one. Soaked my shoe straight through to my sock!”
“Yeah,” Jonas said. “I, um, I rode my bike to the park, you know. It got pretty wet on the ride back.” He looked toward the garage. “In fact, I should probably clean it up.”
Mr. Malloy checked his watch. “You’ve got ten minutes. But that should be enough, right? After all, it was just a little rainwater. A quick wipe down should do it.”
“Uh, right,” Jonas replied, wondering how much dirt he could clear off in that short amount of time.
Just then, the phone rang. Jonas answered. It was Alison.
“Jonas, I’m calling to tell you I’ll have a surprise for you at the mountain tomorrow.”
Jonas had almost forgotten about the mountain cleanup scheduled for the next day. “Surprise? What kind of surprise?”
“I’ll give you a hint. Right after the rain stopped, someone called to say they spotted a biker going up the mountain.”
Jonas’s heart stopped. “Oh, yeah?” he managed to squeak.
“Yeah,” Alison said. “And my surprise has everything to do with that biker. Well, see you tomorrow.”
Jonas slowly put the phone back in its cradle. He felt numb. He knew he was the biker she was talking about. He dreaded finding out what her “surprise” might be.
“All set to go?” Mr. Malloy asked, coming down the stairs. Jonas just nodded. It wasn’t until they were pulling out of the garage that he remembered he hadn’t taken care of his bike.
Not that it matters,
he thought dismally.
Dad will find out tomorrow that I was on the mountain alone. And when he does, it’s good-bye, biking. . . .
Jonas slept poorly that night. The next morning, all he wanted to do was stay under the covers. Instead, he got up and dressed in long sleeves and pants.
“You’re awfully quiet,” his father commented over breakfast.
Jonas shrugged. “Just thinking about the cleanup, I guess,” he mumbled, pushing his cereal bowl away and heading to the garage. “I’ll meet you in the car.”
Mr. Malloy followed him. “Don’t you want to ride our bikes over?”
“Might as well,” Jonas replied, adding silently,
since it may be the last time I ride for a while.
When he wheeled his bike, still covered in dirt, away from the wall, Mr. Malloy’s eyebrows shot up. “That must have been some puddle you rode through yesterday!” he exclaimed.
Jonas picked at a clod of dirt stuck to his handle-bar. “It was,” he said.
His father continued to stare at the bike, particularly at the back wheel. Then he looked at Jonas questioningly.
“C’mon, we better get going,” Jonas said hurriedly, before his father could ask him about the mud. He mounted his bike and coasted down the driveway. Then he pushed off and started pedaling in the direction of the mountain.
Click. Click. Click.
For a moment Jonas couldn’t figure out what he was hearing. Then he felt the hitch in his chain, the one he hadn’t had time to check yesterday. With each push of the pedal, the clicking chain seemed to scold him. He wanted to stop and fix it, but that would mean facing his father. So instead he kept riding, hoping he wasn’t making the problem worse — and praying that his father couldn’t hear the clicks.
The rest of the clean-up crew was already in the parking lot when Jonas and his father rode in. As Jonas got off his bike, X hurried over to him.
“Look who’s here,” he said in a low voice.
Jonas glanced up and started. Frank and one of his friends were huddled against a boulder near the trailhead.
“What’re they doing here?” he asked.
“They’re the surprise I told you about,” Alison said, joining them. She beckoned to Frank and his friend, who reluctantly came over. “That biker I told you about? It was Frank here. I caught him and his friend right as they were coming off the trail yesterday.”
“Yeah, and then she forced us to show up here today!” Frank snapped. “Told us she’d ban us from the skatepark if we didn’t repair the damage we did yesterday.”
“You got that right!” Alison retorted. “You should see the huge ruts they left. And not only did they ignore my sign, they turned it around so no one else would see it!”
“We did not!” Frank replied hotly. “I mean, yeah, we went on a trail, but we didn’t touch your stupid sign.”
“Well, someone did. And if not you, then who?” Jonas knew this was the moment he should speak up. Confess. Tell Alison and his father everything. But he hesitated — and then Alison called everyone together, and the moment passed.
However, the guilt he felt for deceiving his father and Alison, and for letting Frank and his friend take the blame, stayed with him.
The clean-up crew gathered at the trailhead. Some of them carried rakes; others had shovels. X’s mother had a chain saw.
“Everybody got their work gloves on?” Alison asked. Everyone nodded. She turned to Frank. “We’ll start with the trail you were on and branch out. You’ll be repairing all the ruts you made.”
For the next hour, the crew slowly made their way up the trail, removing rocks and cutting back branches. When they came to the ruts Frank and his friend had left, Alison handed Frank a shovel. Grumbling, Frank started leveling the dirt.
“Catch up to us when you’re done,” Alison said. “We’ll be on the next trail over.” She led the crew to a spot where their trail intersected with another. With a jolt, Jonas realized that the new trail was the one he’d been on the day before.
“Frank claimed they were only on that last trail,” Alison said, “but I’m going to scout ahead and make sure.”
As she vanished around a bend, Jonas started clearing rocks off the path. He’d been at it for only a few minutes when Alison returned, looking furious and clenching something in her fist.