Wild Ride Page 2

  Fifteen minutes later, he reached the trailhead. Alison’s sign was posted nearby: TRAILS IN NEED OF REPAIR. PLEASE STAY OFF UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE — THANK YOU. He wiggled it. It was a little loose but otherwise seemed fine. He lingered for a moment, staring longingly at the trailhead. Then, with a sigh, he hurried over to his bike and got ready to leave.

  “Yeee-haw!”

  A loud shout echoed down the mountain. It was closely followed by another and then by a sound like branches breaking. Surprised and curious, Jonas wheeled his bike back to the trailhead. That’s when he saw, in the muddy ground at his feet, a set of freshly made bike tracks. Someone was biking on the trails!

  Jonas’s first thought was to ride to the Community Center to tell Alison. But as he threw a leg over his bike, he heard another triumphant yell and loud laughter. Whoever was on the trails was having a great time. He paused.

  You could be having a great time, too, a small, sly voice inside him whispered. No one would ever have to know. And after the morning you just had, don’t you deserve it? Besides, someone else has already ignored Alison’s sign. What harm can it do if you ignore it, too?

  Jonas turned his gaze to Alison’s sign. The front was white with black letters. Slowly, he reached forward, grabbed the sign, and twisted it around. The back of the sign was unpainted. It blended perfectly against the dark-green pine trees. Unless you were looking for it, you’d never know it was there.

  I can always say I didn’t see the sign, Jonas told himself. His mind made up, he took off his heavy backpack and hid it behind a rock. Then, with one last glance over his shoulder to be sure no one was watching, he mounted his bike, shoved off with one foot, and rode onto the tree-darkened trail.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The trail Jonas chose snaked back and forth, leading him up the mountain slowly. The incline wasn’t that steep, but it was steady. He was forced to shift down to the lowest gear in order to keep moving. Even then he had to stand up and pedal in spots.

  As he gradually made his way up the path, he wondered if he’d run into the other bikers. But when he stopped to take a drink, all he heard was rain water dripping off the trees. He realized he was on the mountain by himself.

  Maybe I should head back, he thought, suddenly feeling uneasy. He glanced at his watch and saw that he’d been biking for twenty minutes. It would take him only half that much time to get back down. If he turned around now, the ride would be over before it had even begun.

  He returned his water bottle to its carrier and began pedaling up the trail again.

  It took him twenty more minutes to reach the top. By then, his legs were burning and he was breathing hard. He gulped some more water and looked over his shoulder down the winding path. His uneasiness returned.

  He’d biked this trail many times before, but never so early in the season. Nothing looked familiar. The trees, many still bare of leaves, were wet from the rain and looked like black skeletons. Boulders he was sure he’d ridden by countless times seemed more jagged than he’d remembered. Murky puddles dotted the path.

  There was no turning back, though, not unless he wanted to walk his bike all the way to the bottom. A quick glance at his watch told him he didn’t have time for that, not if he was going to get home in time to do the chores his father had left for him. If he didn’t get the chores done, his father would want to know what he’d been doing instead. With a stab of guilt, Jonas realized that he didn’t want to have to answer questions like that.

  So he took a deep breath, gripped his handlebars, and shoved off.

  At first, he feathered his brakes, applying light pressure to keep from descending too fast. He shifted his weight to his rear tire, too, remembering that he was less likely to flip over his handlebars in that position. When the ride got bumpy, he stood up and let his legs absorb the worst shocks.

  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!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  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. . . .

  CHAPTER NINE

  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.

  CHAPTER TEN

  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.

  “Frank, get over here!” she bellowed. The rest of the crew stopped what they were doing, curious.

  Frank appeared a moment later. “What now?” he snapped.

  “I was hoping you could explain why I just found another rut on a trail you swore you hadn’t been on. And,” she added, “I found this in the brush near the rut.” She opened her hand to reveal a bright-red bike reflector.

  Frank snorted. “That’s not mine. Someone probably lost it last year.”

  “Not a chance,” Alison shot back. “It would have been buried in dirt and debris. Someone lost this recently.”

  “Well, it wasn’t me!”

  Alison’s eyes blazed. “You lie to me again and I will definitely ban you from the skatepark!”

  “He’s not a liar. I am.”

  Jonas pushed his way through to Alison’s side. He reached out and took the reflector from Alison’s hand. “This is mine.”

  Alison stared. Frank smirked.

  Jonas felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. “And what exactly is your reflector doing up here, Jonas?” his father asked. His voice was low, but Jonas could hear the anger in it.

  Jonas swallowed hard. “I — I was up here yesterday. I had a wipeout. My reflector must have come off then.” He turned to Alison. “And I was the one who turned the sign around.”

  “Told you I didn’t do it,” muttered Frank. Alison grabbed his arm and pulled him away. The rest of the crew backed off, too, leaving Jonas and his father alone.

  “You mean to tell me you went mountain biking by yourself on trails you knew were unsafe?” Mr. Malloy asked. “Did anyone know you were up here?”

  Jonas stared at the ground and shook his head. Mr. Malloy let out a long breath. “And you had a wipeout. Well, that explains why your bike was such a mess this morning. And why your chain was clicking.” Jonas’s head snapped up. �
�Oh, yes, I heard it. And I noticed your reflector was missing. I figured you had lost it in the rainstorm yesterday.” He shook his head. “It never crossed my mind that you’d been up here.”

  “I — I’m sorry, Dad,” Jonas whispered.

  Mr. Malloy knelt in front of his son. “Rules are made for a reason. One reason is to keep people safe.” He sighed. “You know I have to punish you, right?”

  Jonas nodded.

  “I was looking forward to biking with you,” his father said. “But I guess that will have to wait. No mountain biking for one month.” He stood up. “Now, let’s go take care of that rut you made.”

  As awful as the punishment was, Jonas knew it was fair. He also knew he’d learned a lesson he wasn’t likely to forget. As he picked up a shovel and followed his father, he vowed that the next time he took a wild ride, he’d stick to the rules — and play it safe.

  What Goes Up Must Come Down

  Mountain biking is a two-part activity. Part one is going up the mountain. Part two is coming back down. Both require steady balance, strong legs, and quick reactions. But how one gets up a mountain is very different from how one gets down.

  Riding your bike up a mountain means pedaling — hard. One way to make pedaling a little easier is to shift your bike into a lower gear. Another is to stand up in the seat so that you can use the full force of your leg muscles to push the pedals. Rocking the bike back and forth while standing helps keep you moving, too. To rock, lean your bike to the right as your right pedal pushes down, then to the left as your left pedal pushes down.

  After all the hard work of making it up a mountain, coming down may seem like a piece of cake. But descending takes just as much, if not more, concentration and effort as the climb. For one thing, riders need to control their speed. Since jamming on the brakes while careening down a hill could cause you to flip over your handlebars, keep forward momentum in check by squeezing the brakes lightly over and over instead. This is called feathering.