“That’s true,” Coach Gary joined in. “We are looking for another rider in the upper-elementary group, and you’re exactly the right size for the bike we have. Why don’t you come give it a try, at least? You might like it.”
Erik started to mumble a polite excuse when he saw Brunhilde turn around to look for him. She said something to Ragnar, and he took Allyson’s arm as Brunhilde trotted back to join her brother.
“Please do not start giggling at mountain bike riders too, Erik,” she warned. “Come, we must prepare for pie.”
Coach Gary stuck out his hand. “I don’t think we have been properly introduced. I’m Gary, and you are . . .”
“Brunhilde,” she answered, gripping his hand so hard Coach Gary winced a bit. “Daughter of Inge and Thorfast, granddaughter of Golveg and Vigdis, sister of Allyson and Erik.”
“Okay, then,” Coach Gary answered. “Well, we just invited your brother here to join us in practicing some mountain bike skills. Our team really needs another rider since we had someone quit. We can only get funding for our program if we have at least nine riders, one for each sponsored bike. Can you spare him for the afternoon so he can see if he wants to join? I promise we’ll take good care of him.”
Brunhilde said to Erik, “No time today, brother. After celebrating Allyson’s victory, I was planning to get your exposure therapy training set up. Ragnar and I had an idea of how we can fit you and Mr. Nubbins plus a ringing phone into the same small cage—”
“I’ll do it,” Erik said to Coach Gary and Fuzz. “I’ll come mountain bike.”
“Great!” Coach Gary said. “Follow us, and we’ll outfit you with some gear. It’s a blast.”
Erik looked up into Brunhilde’s face with what defiance he could muster, expecting to see specks of fury burning in her eyes at having her exposure therapy plans thwarted. Instead, she winked and chased after the rest of the family.
Erik blinked in astonishment. What would make Brunhilde wink? Nope, he decided, he didn’t want to know.
He followed the cyclists up the hill.
* * *
At the top of the slope, the mountain bike team-in-training had gathered around the large trunk of a fallen tree. It was almost waist-high to the tallest kid. Plywood planks had been placed on either side, forming ramps. Strapping on a helmet, Erik watched the other kids taking turns attempting to ride up a plank, balance on the trunk, and ride down the other side. A few of the taller kids made it from one side to the other to many admiring shouts. Other kids started pedaling up the ramp but then stopped short and hopped off. The team called out words of encouragement for every attempt.
“Go, Funmi, go, you can do it, you can do it . . . Okay, you can’t do it, but you looked good trying!” someone yelled at a girl who turned back before she even tried going up the ramp.
“Who’s up next? Lily, give it a shot! Get up some speed! Wait, not that much speed! Are you okay, Lily? She’s—she’s okay, she’s one tough girl!”
“Leo, Leo, Leo, he’s gonna shred this, here he goes, here he . . . doesn’t go! Okay, he’ll get it next time!” Coach Gary said to a boy who gamely shot up the ramp and then slid sideways off the tree trunk. “All right, gang, huddle up, I want to introduce you to our newest recruit.” He motioned Erik over. “As you know, we lost Juan to the dreaded world of violin lessons.” Everyone booed. “But this fine young man has agreed to try taking over his spot. Let’s give a warm welcome to Erik!”
Everyone recited in a bored singsongy voice as if they were in a classroom, “A warm welcome to Erik.” Then they broke into big smiles and surrounded Erik, individually shaking his hand or waving to introduce themselves.
“Hi, I’m Lily, I’m kinda terrible at this, but I love it.”
“Yo, Erik, I’m Derek, we should form a band or something, because we rhyme.”
“Hi. Dylan. ’Sup.”
“I’m Leo, and this is my sister Morgan, we did some mountain biking last year so we can explain anything that doesn’t make sense. Do you have any experience?” one boy asked Erik.
“Uh . . . no. I mean, I’ve ridden a regular bike, but I’ve never even seen a mountain bike before now,” Erik confessed. Coach Gary wheeled over a knobby-tired bike decorated with stickers of people’s heads. It had accordion-like shock absorbers under the seat and on the front fork. He pushed it to Erik, who put his hands gingerly on the handlebars.
“Well, have you ever gotten a haircut?” asked Leo’s sister Morgan. She wore an orange headscarf under her helmet.
“Yes,” Erik answered. “But never because I wanted to.” He didn’t much like having scissors near his head. Plus, he’d always agreed with the bit of the Lore that stated Those longer of hair are stronger and fairer. “Why?”
“Well, maybe you’d want to get it cut if you earned it. Your bike’s sponsored by the Hair Shack. Anyone who rides it gets a free trim after a race, doesn’t even matter whether you whether you win or not,” Morgan answered. “My bike is from the animal shelter, so I can go in and play with kittens and puppies and hamsters. Leo gets to mail a free letter at the post office.” Leo’s bike was covered in canceled stamps.
“That’s right,” Coach Gary added. “Our team is sort of an experiment this year, where a group of local business owners agreed to sponsor bikes so any kid could join and ride. Alice Toeclips at the post office is a big mountain biking advocate, and she convinced other folks that they’d get good publicity by advertising on our bikes. You don’t mind being our Hair Shack Hero, do you?” Erik shrugged. “Okay, everyone, back to practicing. I’m going to show Erik how to handle this baby and how to fall off without losing any of his teeth. Because what do we know?”
The kids recited in a chorus, “Falling doesn’t have to mean getting hurt. Safety first, fun second!” except for Dylan, who chanted, “Winning first, winning second!” Everyone else ignored Dylan, and the group got back to practicing.
Just like that, Erik became a member of the Lake Park All-Stars Mountain Bike Team (Everyone Welcome). Coach Gary gave him a basic startup lesson, and he spent the rest of the afternoon mostly watching his new teammates try to master the tree trunk. Erik tried out his bike when no one was looking at him. The knobby tires on the Hair Shack–sponsored bike gripped the ground, and its frame was pretty heavy, so even if Erik pushed the pedals hard, he didn’t move very fast. He listened to Coach Gary explain how obstacles were easier to bike over, under, and around when riders “made friends with gravity.” Erik had started furtively trying out a move called a bunny hop when Ragnar came jogging up to him.
“Erik! I bring news!” Ragnar said.
Erik was standing on the pedals, leaning back, but when Ragnar spoke, he mistimed pulling up his back wheel and . . . whoops. But Erik tucked and rolled like Coach Gary taught him to and came up unscathed.
“What news? What is it?” Erik asked his cousin.
Ragnar’s face was solemn. “I looked it up in the dictionary. Crush-smash is not a word.”
Erik waited to see if Ragnar had any other news to add to this revelation.
“You know when you mean to crush something, but then you accidentally smash it instead? There ought to be a word for that.”
Erik said, “I don’t think the dictionary understands your problems.” Ragnar wagged his head in dismayed agreement. Erik knew how being misunderstood felt and wished he could help, so he offered some uplifting Lore-style advice. “Make plenty of time to hear stories and eat corn exploded over the fire. Skimp not on the butter and salt, and happiness shall be yours.”
Ragnar looked thoughtful. “Hey, that reminds me—I also came to tell you that everyone’s over at the Pie Slab now if you want to come and eat with us,” he said.
Coach Gary looked at his watch. “Right, that’s all the time we have for today, gang,” he said to the team. “You know the drill: leave the bikes, pads, and brain buckets with me. Same time, same station this Wednesday.” The team began to disperse. “Thanks for giving us a try, Erik. So
what do you say—want to train with us for next few weeks? It’s free, and we meet three afternoons a week right here.” He recited the days and times. “July twenty-seventh, there’s a big downhill race through the woods over there,” he pointed to the far side of the park. “Anyone who trains can enter the race. In fact, I had to promise Alice from the post office that every sponsored bike would be in the race. First prize is a ham.”
Erik undid his helmet strap. Ham was good, but not as important as what had just happened. He had just spent the past forty minutes around a group of people who seemed to think that everything he was doing or not doing was just fine. He had learned how to fall off a bike and roll to safety. Nothing really scary or awful had happened. This was probably the closest he could get to hiding under a bed in his current situation.
“I think I do want to come back,” he said.
“Yes!” yelled Fuzz. “Told you it was fun. Next time, I’ll show you how to do this.” He tried to do a wheelie and flipped the whole bike over onto himself. “I’m okay,” he gasped. Coach Gary pulled Fuzz’s bike, covered with stickers of flowers and vegetables (sponsored by the local garden shop with a free packet of seeds for its rider after a race), off him. “I’m okay.”
Erik smiled and helped Fuzz to his feet. “How about next time you show me more falling-down-without-getting-hurt skills instead?”
“You got it! We are going to crush the under-eleven category in the race, I just know it.” Fuzz waved and ran off to meet his mom, while Ragnar and Erik headed for the Pie Slab, Ragnar continuing to explore how to weigh the value of crushing against the appeal of smashing. Erik didn’t have any more advice to share, but did his best to be a good listener.
Eleven
Dodging Exposure Therapy
Wear the best possible socks, and any weather can be braved.
—The Lore
The Monday following the cheer competition, Brunhilde gathered the cousins after breakfast to practice what Hrolf insisted on calling Dragon Breathing. “We are going to practice this until we master it,” she told them. “Every morning, you sit here on these pillows or you’ll have me to answer to.”
No one complained. In fact, by the end of the second practice, Hrolf drew a stumpy-looking dragon on his forearm, Allyson said it made her lungs happy, and Ragnar said he might try the breathing technique when out bow-fishing at dawn to clear his mind and still his arrow. And Erik thought that breathe like you mean it was some of the best advice he’d ever heard. He could be calm the whole time he sat on that pillow.
Tuesday morning, he was so entranced with the air going in and out of his lungs, he didn’t notice until Brunhilde instructed them to open their eyes that Sally had wiggle-crawled into his lap. He blinked at the baby snoozing across his crossed legs like a cat. Being calm enough for a baby to fall asleep on him made Erik feel strong and protective. Sally eventually opened her eyes and smiled up at him. He saw that she had the beginnings of her own tooth poking through her lower gums.
“Pretty soon you won’t have to rely on Siegmund to bite people for you anymore,” he said. She gurgled.
Wednesday morning didn’t go quite so well.
Erik opened his eyes at the end of breathing practice and found this time, baby Sven sat nestled upright atop his crossed legs. He reached out a hand to smooth his cousin’s downy hair. His hand froze when he realized Sven held something on his own little lap: Mr. Nubbins. Sven was sucking on the squirrel’s good ear.
All of Erik’s relaxation went right out the window. “Get it off me!” Erik choked out.
Brunhilde cocked her head to the side. “Very good,” she finally said. “You are now trapped with one of your phobias. I believe this can count as exposure therapy.” She found the proper page in The Big Book and scanned the instructions. “Okay, Erik, here is what you need to do: Continue sitting there. Continue falling apart. You will eventually become too exhausted to be afraid. If you can survive to exhaustion, the power sciurophobia has over you will be broken.”
“If I can survive? IF?” Erik couldn’t take his eyes off the little gray body. That furry tail was going to twitch any second. He knew it. His entire nervous system was telling him to fling Sven and Mr. Nubbins off his lap and run far away. But his basic family instincts wouldn’t let him fling his baby cousin. His insides churned in prickly panic while his outer body froze in indecision.
Feeling Erik stiffen, Sven turned to look up. He lifted the squirrel with both hands, as if to say, My dear cousin, you seem ill at ease. Here is a squirrel ear to suck on. It always helps set me to rights.
As Mr. Nubbins came closer to his to his face, Erik’s panic broke free the only way it could. He screamed, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOIT’SGONNAEATMYFACEILIKEMYFACEDON’TLETITEATMYFACEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRKLIKKAKLAKKAKLASKAKLOPATZKLATSCHABATTACREPPYCROTTYGRADDAGHSEMMIHSAMMIHNOUITHAPPLUDDYAPPLADDYPKONPKOTRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRWHOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAATAKEITAWAYTAKEITAWAYTAKEITAWAY!”
Sven leaned back, lowered Mr. Nubbins, and turned to look at Allyson for help. Hey, he doesn’t seem to want a squirrel ear right now. How do we handle this?
Allyson started to crawl over to remove Sven from Erik’s lap, but Brunhilde stopped her. “No, we have to wait until Erik exhausts himself. It may take hours. Days, even. But it is the best thing for him.”
Erik kept screaming. The Dragon Breathing techniques helped his volume. “PLEASEPLEASENOTHERAPYNOWJUSTSAVEMESAVEMEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOULLHODTURDENWEIRMUDGAARDGRINGNIRURDRMOLNIRFENRIRLUKKILOKKIBAUGIMANDODRRERINSURTKRINMGERNRACKINAROCKAROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPITSEYESITSEYESITHASSUCHSCARYEYESGLAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK!”
Sven gazed around the circle in consternation. Seeing that the older kids weren’t doing anything, the baby boy took matters into his own tiny hands. He curled up and slid off Erik, taking Mr. Nubbins with him. He scoot-crawled to a corner of the room, dragging the squirrel in his mouth by its scruff, looking over his shoulder as if to say, Someday you will see the value in squirrel ears, cousin. Also, your lap is only nice when you are quiet. Nubs and I will find somewhere else to chill. Mr. Nubbins hung limply.
As soon as the two of them were behind a chair, Erik stopped screaming and started panting.
“Too bad.” Brunhilde shrugged. “I thought you could have made some real headway there. I suppose I must plan a better way to expose you with no possibility of escape. It’ll be hard to do it this week, since I am helping Aunt Hilda sand and paint the addition to the house, but I will find a way.”
She had barely finished her sentence when Erik scrambled out the door and locked himself in the bathroom. Grabbing a bath towel, he wiped his face dry of sweat.
Why can’t my sister leave well enough alone? he thought. I respect my elders, but darn it, she’s only six years older than me! Someday I’m going to say no and have her listen, he thought. Inside his guts, among the post-squirrel fear splinters, he felt something new. Something solid. Something that didn’t want to keep enduring whatever Brunhilde told him to do. Something that wanted to take a stand.
He rubbed his stomach. And how do we do that? He flicked through his mental list of Erik-style Lore and didn’t see how advice about butter and salt could help him. Then he suddenly remembered that the Lake Park mountain bike team was meeting again this afternoon. “He who can avoid stuff will not be destroyed by stuff,” he murmured.
He rubbed his stomach again and considered. Well . . . I could try to figure out how to take a stand, or I could find as ways to AVOID Brunhilde’s exposure therapy plans as long as possible. Mountain bike practice, helping build or clean stuff, taking care of the triplets—I can keep pretty busy.
That felt like it made sense. He went to go look for Uncle Bjorn to find out what jobs he could do that would keep him on the other side of the house from Bru.
* * *
After helping to organize his uncle’s tools and gulping down a qui
ck lunch, Erik got permission to walk over to the park. Allyson appeared with a shoulder bag as he was getting ready to leave. “Going to meet the mountain bikers? I’ll walk you over!” she said.
It turned out Allyson’s bag was full of picnic supplies. She spread a blanket out to wait for the team to appear, beaming as soon as Dylan pedaled up. Dylan owned his own mountain bike, so it was the only one not covered with sponsorship stickers. Instead it had a personalized license plate that said THE DYLAN in blue letters.
“Hi, remember me, I’m Allyson? How do you spell your name?” she asked him.
“That’d be D-y-l-a-n,” he said.
She called out, “Give me a D, give me a Y, give me an L-A-N! If he can’t ride it, no one can! Goooooooo, DYLAN!” The object of her affection came over to the picnic blanket to check out the tasty snacks she’d brought.
Erik left the two of them to their munching as soon as he saw Fuzz, who had carpooled with Coach Gary and two other riders. Fuzz told Erik they were going to learn things called nollies and stoppies today. Coach Gary said, “Feel free to hang back and watch until you feel comfortable joining in, Erik. No rush.”
Spending the afternoon with the Lake Park All-Stars was the perfect antidote to Erik’s morning squirrel madness. Coach Gary’s low-key teaching style was different than anything Erik had experienced before. Erik didn’t hear him once criticize anybody; instead, he focused on encouraging whatever bits went right. The coach’s positive mood was contagious. The other kids spent as much time laughing and supporting each other as nollie-ing and stoppie-ing. Erik mostly practiced riding in circles, and everyone seemed fine with that.
Erik saw Brunhilde at dinner, but she seemed preoccupied with other thoughts and didn’t bring up attacking his fears. And when they met for Dragon Breathing on the following mornings, she didn’t say anything when Erik firmly closed the door and made sure it was latched against all babies and squirrels before settling on his pillow.
Erik vs. Everything Page 9