The Adventures of a Girl Called Bicycle

by Christina Uss

  Bicycle asked, “He threw it on the ground?” Doing anything with a pie except frying it and eating it didn’t sound much like Jeremiah. “Maybe he was upset because he thought you were trying to take over his pie business.” She yawned. “Maybe you could try talking to him again someday, try to mend things one more time.”

  Estrella stood up from the table. “Mebbe someday,” she said grudgingly. “After I turn a hunnert years old, mebbe I’ll be more forgivin’.” She took Bicycle upstairs and showed her to the spare bedroom. “You can sleep here. I reckon it’s been a long day for you. You need me, come look in the garage. I’m going to sleep out there on my cot in case the bike or the ghost needs somethin’.”

  Estrella headed downstairs, and Bicycle climbed into bed.

  * * *

  —

  Bicycle was up at dawn, too impatient to stay asleep. She splashed some water on her face and went straight into the garage. Estrella was snoring on a cot in the corner and didn’t wake up when Bicycle came in and removed the blanket from the bicycle frame on the workbench.

  “Griffin?” she whispered.

  The response was immediate. “Hey, Bicycle, where’ve you been? I’ve been stuck here on my side, thinking you’d forgotten to take me with you or something. That lady over there’s been snoring all night, way worse than you do.”

  “I do not snore!” Bicycle said, and then immediately giggled as relief washed over her. “No, I’d never forget you, Griffin. You can count on that. The town was having their annual Parade of Pigs—it started after you left—so more than eight hundred pigs ran over you and Clunk, and I think you passed out. Then Estrella over there found a way to wake you up. She also fixed Clunk’s frame, but the bike isn’t safe to ride anymore.”

  “Whoa. Then how are you going to get to San Francisco?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Bicycle said. She’d been so focused on getting Griffin back, she hadn’t thought about herself.

  “Well, how about the pie shop? Did you find out if Joe ever started frying pies?” Griffin said.

  “Yes, he did. Joe’s great-grandson Jeremiah runs the shop now, and I’ve eaten about forty fried pies already,” Bicycle said, ready to list the flavors.

  Before she could start, Jeremiah’s van pulled up in the driveway outside.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Bicycle said as Jeremiah shuffled in and whistled when he saw the bike frame.

  “My oh my, I almost hate to admit it, but Estrella did a fine job on that bike,” Jeremiah said. “You say it won’t ride? It looks pert’ near perfect, shiny as a new penny.”

  Griffin piped up from the handlebars, “Thanks!”

  Jeremiah started. “That the ghost?” he asked Bicycle in a low voice.

  She nodded.

  Jeremiah cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter. “Er…greetings to you, Griffin the Ghost. I’m Jeremiah Branch. Bicycle tells me you were a friend of my great-grandpa’s, and any friend of his is certainly a friend of mine.”

  Bicycle lifted the bike frame down and set it on the ground, facing upright. Griffin announced, “Jeremiah, I sure am glad to meet you and happy to be home again. I hope I can come help you out at the pie shop. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I met Bicycle.”

  Jeremiah took one handlebar in his hand and wiggled it in greeting. “It would be my pleasure to have you in my shop. Now, are you in that bicycle for good, or you plannin’ on hauntin’ my pie plates, or what?”

  Griffin made a grunting sound like he was trying to lift something heavy. “You know, I don’t have a clue how to get out of here. When Bicycle found me, I decided kinda on a whim to haunt her bike, and it was easy. Now that that lady over there fixed up the frame, I’m feeling more locked in somehow than I was before.”

  Jeremiah waggled his head. “Well, Estrella does do a decent job fixing bikes. I wouldn’t be surprised if she fixed you in there real tight. She don’t do nothin’ halfway. I’ve always admired that about her. When we were much younger, I admired her a great deal, in fact.”

  The little trio was so intent on their conversation that they hadn’t noticed the snoring had stopped.

  A sour voice piped up behind them. “You admired me so much that when I came to your shop to make amends with you, you threw my pork-skin pie right on the ground? That don’t strike me as any kind of admiration.”

  They turned to see Estrella standing behind them.

  Jeremiah’s blush rippled through every one of his wrinkles. “Shucks, Estrella, I was so nervous that a beautiful woman was giving me a pie, I dropped it. I was all thumbs when I was a youngster. Then you called me a big dunderheaded lummox and ran off, so I thought maybe you gave me the pie to show me you didn’t need me and my pie shop. Thought you was bein’ mean.”

  Her face softened. “Well, don’t that beat all! For seventy years, I ain’t talked to you for throwing my pie in anger, which you didn’t do, and you ain’t talked to me since I gave you a mean-spirited gift, which I didn’t do. Jeremiah, we been such fools as that all that time?”

  Jeremiah, still a bright shade of pink, shuffled his feet. “Seems so.”

  Bicycle looked from one wrinkled face to another and decided to leave them alone in the garage for a while. She wheeled the bike out into the sunshine.

  “Griffin,” she said, “what am I going to do without Clunk? Is this the universe telling me I should stop now and give up? That I should call Sister Wanda and tell her I made friends with a ghost, and hope that’s enough to get me out of being sent to any friendship-making camp?” She scuffed a toe at the ground. The idea of going back made her feel disappointed and low. And the idea of pressing onward without Clunk and Griffin was overwhelming.

  Griffin whistled a few wistful notes. “Bicycle, I was so excited to be coming home, I never thought about us parting ways. Maybe you could stay a while, fry pies with me and Jeremiah? I know! We’ll park Clunk next to the deep fryer, and I’ll tell you how to mix up the pie fillings. Then we could mail special pies to Zbig, the bicycle racer fella, spelling out different messages in pie dough to convince him to come visit us, or we could…Wait—if you stay here with us, that’s giving up on your own adventure,” he said. “You’d be the one with unfinished business then. Nope, nope, that won’t do. If you stayed here, you’d always wonder whether Zbig mighta been the best friend you ever could have. You’ve got to keep going. And then you’ll come back and tell us about what you saw and how amazing it is! You never know what’s around the next corner, or across the next state line, right?”

  “That’s for sure.” Bicycle thought about it. “I remember what the Top Monk once told me: ‘Always finish what you start.’ At least, I think that’s what he told me. He said ‘Sandwich,’ but I’m pretty sure that’s what he meant. And Zbig really does seem like the perfect person for me to have as a friend. Nobody’s happier on a bike than he is.” She envisioned Zbig waving to a cheering crowd.

  “’Cept maybe you,” Griffin added. “You just haven’t had a chance to ride as many places as him yet. If you get out to California, and you win that contest to ride with him, well, you’re bound to end up as happy as a ghost in a fried-pie shop.”

  Bicycle thought, Probably the first time anyone in the world has used that expression. “I do know if I go home now, I wouldn’t be even close to finishing what I started. The reason I ran away from the Friendship Factory bus was to prove to Sister Wanda that I could make my own kind of friend my own kind of way. And now I’ve got you. But I think I’ve got to prove I can make a friend on purpose, or Sister Wanda will just send me off again.” Bicycle shivered, thinking about it. “Whatever lies between me and California has to be better than that. So I guess that’s my answer. I’ll figure out a way to keep heading west.” She patted the handlebars. “I’ll miss you, Griffin. You were the best traveling partner, dog trainer, and singing accompaniment to hill climbing a girl could ever ask for. And I pinky-promise to come back and visit as soon as I can.” She wrapped her
pinky around the bike’s brake cable and squeezed.

  Jeremiah and Estrella came out of the garage. It sounded like they might be arguing about something again, and Estrella was poking Jeremiah in the arm with one tiny finger. But then they proposed that Bicycle stay the summer in Green Marsh.

  Estrella said, “We’ll call that Sister Wanda of yours and clear it with her. You could help fix bikes—”

  “And fry pies,” Jeremiah interjected.

  “And raise pigs. What more does a girl want out of life?” Estrella finished.

  “Oh no! I mean, thanks anyway, but Sister Wanda doesn’t change her mind very easily,” Bicycle said. “If we called her now, she’d have me locked in the Friendship Factory in no time at all. She’d probably chain my ankle to three other kids. Maybe even chain herself to my ankle, too. This is the only chance I’ll ever have to try to make friends with Zbig and prove I can do this my own way. There’s no going back now.”

  “Sounds like you don’t change your mind very easily yourself,” said Estrella. “Sounds like you’re determined to see this thing through.”

  “You don’t know anything about stubbornness like that now, do you, Estrella?” asked Jeremiah.

  “You’re one to talk!” Estrella said.

  They looked at each other, and Bicycle held her breath. Then they brayed laughter, and Bicycle exhaled in a big whoosh.

  “All right. Well, as one stubborn mule to another, here’s what I can do to help you on your way,” Estrella said. “My grandnephew’s driving a pig delivery truck to Midway Station, Kansas, in a few hours. You’re welcome to ride with him, and that’ll get you down the road a piece. I’ve got a secondhand bike—it’s been hanging around my workshop ever since I repaired it, but the owner never paid her bill. Should be a good fit for you, plus it’s got one of those adjustable seat posts. I’ll have my nephew stick that bike in the back of the truck for you, so once you get to Midway Station you can start pedaling on your way again. Better a neglected bike goes with you than ends up collecting more dust in my garage.” Estrella brushed her hands together twice and walked toward her front door, saying over her shoulder, “That’s settled, then. I’ll go call my nephew and tell him to come meet us at Paradise Pies after he loads up the truck. I’m so glad to help you out, child.”

  “Thanks,” Bicycle said, a little nervous about getting a lift on four wheels instead of two. Somehow driving seemed like cheating, but after two days in Green Marsh, she was seriously behind schedule. Accepting Estrella’s generous offer seemed like the best thing to do, especially since no better plan was presenting itself.

  “If she gets you a ride, then I can get you pied,” Jeremiah said. “Hee! Get it? Pied? I’m gonna fill up that backpack of yours with some of them tapioca-muffin ones, plus whatever else you want. You need some money, too?”

  “Pies will be great,” Bicycle said. She still had some money left, plus her Free Eats card, so she thought she was in good shape. “Sister Wanda always says, ‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be,’ and I think she means I shouldn’t use anyone else’s money if I can help it. But I will take a postcard if you have one to send to her and the monks.”

  Jeremiah said, “Let’s head to the shop and I’ll see what I can find. I’ve got your backpack and helmet ready for you there, and I invited Estrella to join us for lunch.” He helped Bicycle load Clunk in the van, and when Estrella came back out of her house, the three of them squeezed into the front seat.

  Back at Paradise Pies, Griffin tried un-haunting the bike one more time, but he seemed good and stuck.

  Estrella said, “I don’t know much about ghosts, but I made sure every little piece of that bike was screwed in, tightened down, and firmly in place. I do think you are permanently in there, Mr. Griffin.”

  Griffin didn’t mind much. He’d gotten to appreciate how the metal of the frame echoed with his singing voice.

  Before starting lunch (a chicken pot pie, baked this time, not fried), Jeremiah hunted up a postcard from the Marsh County Rolling Pin Museum. Bicycle wrote it out and asked him to put it with tomorrow’s outgoing mail.

  Green Marsh, Missouri

  Dear Sister Wanda and Mostly Silent Monks,

  It turns out I made a friend but it wasn’t like I thought it would be. It sort of snuck up on me while I wasn’t paying attention. But it shows that I’m on the right track.

  We should come visit here during fried-pie season, which I learned is any day of the year that doesn’t have a Parade of Pigs.

  Bicycle

  After they ate, Bicycle wheeled Clunk out front. Jeremiah set up a stepladder next to the Paradise Pies shop door and asked a strong neighbor to give them a hand. The neighbor climbed up the ladder to the portico over the door, and Jeremiah and Bicycle lifted Clunk up to him so he could mount the bike atop the portico. Jeremiah called up to Griffin, “How’s that?”

  Griffin hollered down. “The view is great!” A family was walking past on the sidewalk and Griffin sang out to them, “Hey there, folks, you should come on in and try some fried pies! They’ll make you happy today and live longer tomorrow!” They stopped in their tracks, gawking at the talking bicycle. “What’s on the menu today, Jeremiah?” asked Griffin.

  “Oh, we’ve got peach, and apple. We got some real good blackberries in, too—I could whip up a few of those. Or you could try some of our new experimental flavors—chicken noodle or mashed potato.”

  Griffin started singing a silly song about a magical fried pie that saves the world, and the family headed into the shop, chuckling with delight at the singing bicycle. Another couple went in shortly afterward. A whole troop of Boy Scouts was coming over to see what the fuss was all about when the Marquez Pigs delivery truck pulled up next to the sidewalk.

  Estrella came out of the shop with Bicycle’s backpack and helmet, and she helped Bicycle climb up into the passenger’s seat. She gave her grandnephew strict instructions to take good care of the girl all the way to Kansas, talking loudly to be heard over the sound of pigs snuffling and groinking from the cargo container.

  Jeremiah and Estrella both waved good-bye as the truck started to pull away, saying, “Don’t forget us!” and “Come back soon!”

  Bicycle yelled back, “Invent some really good fried pies. I’ll be back to eat some of them when I can!”

  Griffin called out, “Take care, Bicycle! Don’t let any more pigs run over you!”

  The truck started down the street, and Bicycle craned her neck out the window. The Paradise Pies shop crowned by a singing, talking bicycle was starting to draw a crowd. That place might actually be on its way to becoming world-famous, she thought. She waved a final good-bye, sorry to leave the town of Green Marsh behind her.

  Estrella’s grandnephew’s name was Dan. That was the first thing that Bicycle learned about him on the five-hour drive to Midway Station, Kansas. The second and final thing she learned was that he didn’t talk much. Dan answered each of her questions with an unrevealing grunt, tugging on the brim of his baseball hat. Bicycle gave up after a few tries and lapsed into silence, watching the countryside pass by outside her window. She didn’t know how accustomed she’d become to Griffin’s nonstop chatter until she realized that sitting in Mostly Silence now made her uncomfortable.

  Before long, they came upon a big white sign that announced WELCOME TO KANSAS: THE SUNFLOWER STATE in green-and-red letters decorated with streamers and painted confetti. Seems nice enough, Bicycle thought, but for the first time on this trip, her heart wasn’t much in the traveling. She felt she’d left it back in Missouri with Griffin and Clunk.

  Dan didn’t drive very fast. Even so, driving on a road in a truck is a lot faster than pedaling on a road with a bicycle. The scenery shot by. Bicycle saw fields of something golden like wheat, and something green like corn, and several big windmills and tall storage silos. The flat horizon stretched out forever. It looked like an excellent place to bike.

  Bicycle slumped in her seat and let herself feel a little bit
sad. She missed Clunk. Clunk had been a part of her life so long that losing him was like losing a part of her body. It’s like I was a centaur, she thought, one of those half-human, half-horse creatures you see in mythology books. But I used to be half-human, half-bicycle. Now I’m just a plain old regular human. She sighed. It was hard to imagine riding the rest of the way to California on some other bike.

  Mile after mile sped by. She unwrapped a couple of the turkey-and-tater-tot fried pies that Jeremiah had stuffed in her backpack and shared one with Dan. Fields of giant, yellow-headed sunflowers nodded as they passed, and the day wore on. The sun finally began to light the clouds with orange and pink. Bicycle gazed at the multicolor sunset and hardly noticed that the truck had slowed down until they were pulling into a parking lot in front of a general store. “Are we here?” she said.

  Dan, unsurprisingly, grunted. He got out of the truck. Bicycle slung her backpack over her shoulder and followed him into the store.

  She hung back near the racks of bubble gum and candy bars, waiting until Dan had handed his paperwork to the distribution manager. The two of them went into the parking lot to unload the pigs, and Bicycle followed to retrieve her secondhand bike. Dan extended the truck’s ramp and opened up the rear gate. A passel of pigs tired of being cooped up in a cargo container galloped down the ramp into a holding pen.

  The manager locked up the pen and went back inside the general store. Bicycle came to stand next to Dan as he closed up the back of the truck. The cargo area was empty.

  “Where’s the bike Estrella gave me?” Bicycle asked.

  Dan scratched his cheek and then pointed at the wide gap between the top of the rear gate and the ceiling of the cargo container. The rear gate was high enough that no pig could jump over it. But it was low enough that a bicycle could have fallen over it. Only, however, if some resourceful pigs had gotten underneath it and shoved.