Small courage has surprisingly good hands.
“Again.”
The small hand was already in the air.
Milo looked at it.
Then at the bicycle.
Then at the knee of his trousers, where a fresh green stain had appeared beside an older brown one.
“No.”
His sister kept her hand up.
Five fingers.
Patient.
Slightly annoying.
Behind them, the bicycle lay sideways on the grass with one wheel still turning.
Tik-tik-tik-tik.
Milo rubbed his elbow.
It smelled of warm grass, bicycle rubber, and the strawberry soap their mother bought because apparently elbows also needed to smell cheerful.
His sister moved her hand two inches closer.
“Just the hand.”
“I know what a high-five is.”
“Excellent.”
Milo stared at her.
She waited.
Finally—
Slap.
“Again,” she said.
“That was the again.”
“No. That was the high-five.”
Milo suspected this was how lawyers were invented.
Two Wheels
He lifted the bicycle.
One foot found the pedal.
The other remained firmly attached to the earth.
His sister held the back of the seat.
“Don’t let go.”
“I won’t.”
“You said that before.”
“I didn’t let go before.”
“You became very far away.”
“That is different.”
Milo considered this.
It was not.
He pushed.
The bicycle wobbled once.
Twice.
His sister ran behind him, shoes scratching against the dry path.
Then her fingers left the seat.
Milo did not know this.
For seven glorious seconds, this was useful.
He pedaled past the hedge.
Past the yellow watering can.
Past Mr. Chen carrying groceries.
Mr. Chen saw the bicycle.
He saw Milo.
He raised one hand.
Milo raised his.
This was a mistake.
The bicycle immediately developed opinions.
It leaned left.
Milo leaned right.
A paper bag of oranges became involved.
Three rolled across the pavement.
One escaped beneath a parked car.
The bicycle stopped in a bush.
Silence.
Mr. Chen looked at Milo.
Milo looked at Mr. Chen.
From somewhere behind the hedge came his sister’s voice.
“Seven seconds!”
Mr. Chen put down the groceries.
He held up his hand.
Milo was still partly inside the bush.
Slap.
The Orange
They found two oranges immediately.
The third had established residency beneath the car.
Milo lay flat on the pavement and reached underneath.
His fingertips touched it.
Rolled it.
Missed.
Rolled again.
Got it.
When he stood, his shirt smelled faintly of dust and warm stone.
Mr. Chen accepted the orange.
“Thank you.”
He walked toward his building carrying the groceries.
At the entrance, a delivery girl was struggling with a large cardboard box and an uncooperative door.
Mr. Chen caught the door with his foot.
The girl slipped through.
The box survived.
She smiled.
Mr. Chen lifted one hand.
She laughed.
Slap.
Milo saw it from across the street.
He said nothing.
His sister had arrived beside him.
She said nothing too.
This was suspicious.
Tuesday
Later that morning, the delivery girl carried the same box into a bakery.
The baker opened it.
Paper cups.
Two hundred of them.
Exactly the cups he had forgotten to order.
He looked at the box.
Then at the girl.
His hand went up.
Slap.
At eleven seventeen, the baker handed a warm roll to a boy who had dropped his breakfast on the pavement.
The boy’s mother reached for her purse.
The baker shook his head.
The boy looked at the roll.
Then at the baker.
One small hand rose.
The baker grinned.
Slap.
By lunchtime, nobody knew where the first one had come from.
This was probably for the best.
Again
That afternoon Milo returned to the bicycle.
The green stain had dried.
His elbow was fine.
The bush had recovered emotionally.
His sister stood beside the path.
She did not touch the seat.
Milo put one foot on the pedal.
Then the other.
He pushed.
The bicycle moved.
Past the hedge.
Past the watering can.
Past the place where the oranges had escaped.
Five seconds.
Seven.
Ten.
At the corner, Milo turned.
His sister was very small now.
Both her hands were above her head.
Milo laughed.
He rode back.
Stopped badly.
Nearly fell.
Didn’t.
His sister lowered one hand.
The other stayed up.
Milo looked at it.
“Again?”
She smiled.
Slap.
Across the street, Mr. Chen was coming home.
He saw them.
He lifted his hand.
Unfortunately, he was alone.
He looked at it for a moment.
Then high-fived the grocery bag.
The oranges took it surprisingly well.
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