Marama wasn’t back with the bike when the bell rang for fourth period. Erin rushed to class, the bike on her mind.
She texted Marama and didn’t hear back.
Bush Inn wasn’t that far away. Maybe Marama had an accident. Or totaled the bike.
Shit, shit, shit.
Erin stood outside her classroom door until the very last second. Still no sign of Marama.
Erin didn’t see her between classes, and she was absent from literature.
By last period, Erin was in full-on panic mode. She may have enabled the sweetest girl in school to break her neck or worse. And Felicity would kill her for wrecking her perfect brand-new bike.
_________
Marama stood against the admin building as usual after school. She smiled as Erin approached.
“Thanks again, Erin,” she said. “My salmon sushi was yum.”
No mention of any accidents or lost bicycle. Erin feigned composure. “Sure thing. Any time.”
“It’s a nice ride.”
“Thanks. It’s Felicity’s. Did you lock it up?”
“It was tricky, but I think I did it right.”
“Awesome.”
Relieved, Erin circled back around the admin building to the bike rack. She congratulated herself for being cool. New Zealand cool, which was different from being cool in Wheaton. Cool in Wheaton was more about what she owned, how she dressed, and how she managed adults. Here, it was about being laid back. Ironically, she had to work pretty hard at that.
Felicity’s bike was nowhere to be found. Erin perused the length of the bike rack five times before dropping her books and running back to Marama, who also was nowhere to be found.
This wasn’t happening. Hamish and Felicity would be pissed. Any equity Erin had built up after her Not American Good comment would disappear. What could she do?
“Erin?” Jade called out. “Something wrong?”
“I lost Felicity’s bike. It’s not on the rack.”
Jade grabbed Erin’s upper arm. “Look at me. Relax. We’ll look together.”
Jade followed Erin around the admin building, where only three bikes remained. Everyone else had cleared off after school.
“Well, I guess it isn’t lost among the throngs,” Jade said. “You’re sure this is where you left it?”
“Does it matter? I don’t see a bike lying out in the open, either.”
“Touchy.”
“Sorry. It’s just—she kind of thinks I’m spoiled and irresponsible. This is going to seal the deal for her.”
Jade’s face softened. “It will turn up. Are you sure you locked it here?
“I lent it to Marama at lunch because she wanted sushi.” She wanted to say Marama was flighty.
While Erin explained, some huge guy picked up one of the remaining bikes. Two girls casually collected the last two. Erin wasn’t expecting Felicity’s bike to magically materialize when all the other bikes were taken, but still, the empty bike rack pained her.
What have I done?
“I’m sorry, Erin. I have to catch the next bus or Mum will be furious. You going to be okay here?”
Erin nodded, though she was decidedly not okay. She was screwed.
Jade turned back two times on her way off campus. The second time, she gave a thumb’s up, as if everything would be just fine.
Erin walked to the middle of campus. No bike. Between buildings and around the canteen. No bike. The racks were still empty when she passed by on her way to—yes, the bus.
Erin felt like an asshole for losing Felicity’s bike. Her birthday present. A thousand-dollar bike! A thousand dollars was undoubtedly a lot of money for Hamish. Without a bike, Felicity had no transportation to work until she could shell out a thousand dollars for another bike.
And she’d believe Erin was irresponsible.
If you can fix it for under a thousand dollars, it’s not a problem.
Erin probably could fix this problem for around a thousand dollars. Did that count? The only consequence of buying a thousand-dollar bike was a very angry dad, and he’d get over it.
A thousand dollars wouldn’t affect her parents’ bottom line. And Felicity would have a bike and wouldn’t be out the money.
And—if Erin was really good—Felicity and Hamish would never know she’d lost it.
Erin needed empathy.
And help.
And wheels.
She called Hank.
FORTY-EIGHT
A half hour later, Erin and Hank entered Spokes, Hank’s best guess for the shop where Hamish had bought Felicity’s bike.
After much deliberation, they agreed on a make and model. When they explained the dilemma to the guy working the shop, he checked his books and proved that Erin and Hank had no clue what they were talking about. Felicity’s had been a limited-edition women’s Diamondback, and Spokes had only one left in stock.
Another woman in the shop was keen to hear about this particular model.
Erin dialed Marama to be sure there was no other way out of this situation. Unfortunately, Erin was unable to play cool. Instead, she left a breathless message asking for Marama’s assurance that she’d locked up the bike.
“Can we think about it for a minute?” Erin asked the shopkeeper, who immediately started touting the bike’s features to the other customer.
Really? Today? She couldn’t have come looking tomorrow?
“What do you think?” Hank said.
“If Marama didn’t lock it, there is a small possibility someone accidentally took it home.”
“Were there any bikes left on the rack?”
“Empty.”
“So, where did the accidental bike borrower leave their own bike?”
Damn. “Maybe someone took it for a joyride?”
“Doubtful.” Hank’s fake, hopeful smile didn’t help.
She scowled. “You look like a helpful person, but you’re not all that helpful.”
“Anything that sounds helpful would be a lie. I’m not going to lie to you.”
“What would you do?”
“I wouldn’t lend a friend my mother’s sweet ride, that’s for sure.”
Hank wasn’t sure how to react when sobs heaved out of Erin. He wrapped his arms around her but was tentative about actually touching her with his hands.
It was fake comfort.
He whispered, “Call Felicity. Tell her what happened and ask her what she’d like you to do.”
“No chance.”
The shopkeeper adjusted a helmet onto the head of the other woman and let her take a test ride on the street.
“We can look for it tonight. And tomorrow.”
That sounded like the sanest option, but Erin felt certain that by tomorrow she wouldn’t be able to buy a replacement. Spokes wouldn’t have another one for two months.
Marama called. “I promise you that I locked it. I locked it up at Bush Inn and at Ilam the same way you had it locked: through the frame and the wheel. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
She could say she was joking. She could say she’d split the cost of a new bike.
No. This was on Erin. Felicity would be back in two days. Erin had to fix this. “Thanks, Marama. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
If Marama was sure she’d locked it, someone had cut the lock deliberately and stolen it. It was gone.
Under guise of dusting his inventory, the shopkeeper eavesdropped on their conversation.
Erin was done pretending. “If I buy the bike and my bike turns up within the week, could I return it?”
The shop owner smiled. “We take returns for malfunctions only, not change of mind.”
Of course not. Of COURSE NOT, New Zealand.
Hank jumped in. “What if she didn’t ride it? I could drive the bike home and store it in her garage for a week until we’ve done a thorough search.”
“I’m sorry. I have a customer who seems keen to buy it today so that is a poor value proposition for me.”
Erin
cursed flighty Marama. Something rumbled a second before the floor started shaking. Bikes hanging from the ceiling swayed and Hank and the bike guy held the counter tightly. Erin’s first genuine earthquake. She held her breath until the room settled a few seconds later.
“Well, if that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is,” Erin joked.
No one answered. She turned to find Hank pale and wide-eyed.
“Are you okay?”
Hank nodded quickly, his expression unchanged. He and the shop owner exchanged looks.
“Never gets easier, does it?” the shopkeeper said.
“Never,” Hank said. “I can’t get away from it. Never had trouble until 2011. Now? Every single time.”
Erin asked, “What happened to you during that quake?”
Hank stared at the ground. “Can we skip it?”
“Of course.”
The other customer returned, flustered. “Not today.”
“No worries,” the shop owner said. “Are you all right?”
“It never gets easier,” she said before leaving.
Relieved, Erin pulled out her dad’s Visa. “I’ll take it.”
Erin fought back tears as Hank parked in her driveway later. Her dad was going to kill her.
Hank said, “I can’t believe you just spent a grand on a bike!”
“Yeah. My dad says if you can fix it for under a thousand dollars, it’s not a problem.”
Hank went silent. He managed the complex unbuckling of Felicity’s new bike from his bike rack.
“Guess you’re in luck. Twelve hundred is under a grand when you convert, innit?”
That was something.
He said, “I hope the bike turns up.”
“I don’t. If it shows up now, what will I do with it? What’s lost is lost.”
“Should have gotten that lady’s number. Could have made a deal.”
They parked the bike in its spot and Erin cursed. “The helmet. I can’t replace Felicity’s helmet.” That would prove another issue entirely, because Felicity’s helmet was old. As in no one was making orange helmets with racing stripes anymore.
Not to mention the fucking stickers.
“That’s less than fifty bucks,” Hank said.
“But then she’ll know.”
“I’m telling you. Being honest would be a lot easier.”
Erin would have to fess up eventually, but at least she had fixed her own mistake. Or her dad’s Visa had fixed her mistake.
Lucky for Erin, it was nearly her dad’s birthday, when Claire forbid Mitchell to check credit card statements for fear he would ascertain his own birthday presents and ruin any surprises she’d planned. Christmas followed close behind, so at the very earliest, Erin could expect a lecture in January.
FORTY-NINE
At school the next day, Jade spotted Erin and broke away from her group of friends. “Sorry to leave you buggered last night,” she said. “Did you work out the bike?”
“Sort of.”
Jade cocked her head sideways.
“The bike was stolen. I bought a new one. It’s identical.”
Jade’s jaw fell open. “Just like that, you bought a new one? How did you even find one? How did you pay for it?”
“It was Felicity’s birthday present. Brand new a few months ago, so I went to the shop and dropped twelve hundred dollars on a bike.”
“That’s quite a dear mistake.”
Erin frowned.
“Cost a lot of money, I meant. Amazing.”
It was kind of amazing. Erin had taken the problem into her own hands and handled it. So what if Felicity would know anyway because of the helmet? Erin had owned her problem and fixed it, to her own detriment. “It is kind of amazing, isn’t it?”
“Felicity might be impressed, actually.”
“Yeah.” Erin hoped.
“I was thinking,” Jade said slowly. “Marama lives in Cashmere, right?”
Erin stared at her blankly. Who the hell cared where Marama lived?
“I’m asking because if she usually comes from the south, she’s probably used to parking at the back entrance.”
Two months in, Erin became aware of Ilam High’s back entrance. With a bike rack. Where Marama, her totally responsible friend, had locked up Felicity’s inordinately expensive bike.
And had tucked a tiny chocolate truffle into the helmet as thanks.
For the first time since she was ten, Erin now had her very own bike.
FIFTY
Thursday afternoon, Erin biked halfway across the city and parked at Hank’s rock-climbing gym, The Roxx. Too late, she realized she’d forgotten climbing clothes.
“Hey!” she said when he arrived.
“Erin. Hi!” He opened the door for her.
Erin had seen a climbing wall or two online, and there once was a rock-climbing tower at the annual Cream of Wheaton festival, but Hank’s gym was unreal. Some climbers bouldered close to the ground as she had at Castle Hill, but most were attached to ropes, climbing several stories overhead.
Erin turned to find Hank laughing with Marama’s friend.
“Erin, this is Gloria, one of my best climbing partners. Gloria, Erin.”
“Hi again,” Gloria said.
“Hi!” Erin said, her cheeks growing hot at the idea of Hank climbing with Gloria.
“You went out with Marama, right?” Gloria asked as she pulled out her climbing shoes.
“Castle Hill, yes. And I was planning to climb today, but forgot a change of clothes.”
A second later, Gloria withdrew clothes from her bag. “You can wear my emergency clothes if you want.”
“Emergency clothes?”
“You know, if I’m up on a rock and someone spills his beverage from on high—”
“Once,” Hank said. “It happened once.”
“When it happened, we were a hundred kilometers away. All the ropes were set for the day. I spent the rest of the day green and sticky.”
Erin grimaced. She hadn’t heard about any climbing trips a hundred kilometers away. And who the hell was Gloria, anyway?
Gloria said, “Come on, Erin. Clothes are clean. Change up and have a go.”
“Okay. I have to be home for dinner at 6:30, and I’m on a bike.”
Without divulging any embarrassing details about the bike, Hank said, “I’ll drive you back, if you like. Home by 6:30. I promise.”
Out of excuses, Erin changed into shorts that were a little too tight and a shirt that was a little too loose in the bust. Gloria was the perfect shape, apparently.
When Erin emerged, Gloria was waiting. “You’re all checked in! Just sign this.”
Because Erin had surprised Hank, he hadn’t brought his sisters’ shoes. Erin rented a pair from the front desk and tried not to think about the masses who’d worn them before. She pinched them between her fingers and scrunched up her nose.
“Better or worse than foul breath?” Hank asked.
“What?”
“You and bad breath. Stinky shoes. Does every bad smell bother you?”
“I was trying to convince myself the gym washes them after every wearing.”
Hank handed her a tangled bunch of straps. “Not bloody likely. Here: see whether this fits.”
See if it fits what? She held it in front of her while Hank pulled bright ropes and a hundred tiny metal trapezoids from his bag. Gloria had her own thing-that-might-fit.
“Need help with your harness?” Hank asked. “Threw you in at the deep end, didn’t I?”
“Deep ends aren’t a problem for me. I just don’t know what this thing is.”
“You swim. Which stroke?”
“Butterfly.”
“Make you a deal. I’ll get you climbing, and you can teach me butterfly. Fair trade?”
“Fair trade,” she said.
Hank twisted the harness around a few times until the shape made more sense. Two loops were burnt orange. He squatted and held one toward her right foot. “This leg in her
e. Other leg in here.”
When her legs were in the right holes, she pulled the belt up near her hips, tugging the leg holes around the tops of her thighs.
“Those are too loose,” Hank kneeled before her and slipped his hands through her legs. The titillating moment made her blush. Hank tightened the straps until they were snug around her thighs. It felt like a diaper.
She was well out of her comfort zone, clothes-wise. But then, Gloria and Hank were wearing the same gear. No one cared.
Rocks and holds in an array of colors cluttered the walls. People had decorated with patterned duct tape.
Hank said, “One of us will belay you. We’ll hold the end of your rope taut so you can climb safely.” He looped the rope through Erin’s harness and tied an elaborate knot in the end.
He taught her simple belay commands. “And if you need to take a break on the wall, just yell ‘take’ and wait for me to say ‘got.’ Then you can rest and I’ll hold you.”
I’ll hold you. Despite that not being remotely romantic, Erin blushed and her belly flipped over.
She stood at the bottom of the rock face. “On belay?”
“Belay on,” Hank said.
“Climbing?”
“Climb on.”
And she did.
FIFTY-ONE
Her first time up the rock face, Hank said almost nothing. While she was on the wall, Marama arrived and roped in with Gloria. The two of them had a whole conversation about good holds and stemming out and slopers.
Climbing had a foreign lexicon Erin knew nothing about.
Hank didn’t use any of it. He left her to find her own holds. She ran her fingers over the rock above her head until she’d found something big enough to hold onto. She looked down to find something for her opposite foot, and when she found it, she pushed up and pulled up simultaneously.
Repeat.
Halfway up the rock, she stalled, her feet throbbing in the torturous shoes. She rested her forehead against the rock.
“Need a wee break?” Hank asked.
“No. I’m fine.”
“Take!” Marama yelled.
“Got!” Gloria yelled back.
Marama scrambled back and forth like a pendulum until she was two feet from Erin. “You okay?”
Erin said, “Just trying to find something to hang onto.”
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