Suzy threw her backpack on the floor and flopped on her bed with a sigh. She looked up at all the books that neatly lined her bookshelf, but nothing drew her to picking up a good book and sitting snuggly in her bed as her pup sat beside her. Not even a good mystery would solve the ache she felt in her chest. All she wanted to do was lay there and stare up at the white ceiling in silence. Lately, it felt as if a shadow followed her everywhere. She kept on thinking, “Tomorrow will be a better day.” But it never was. Each day the thoughts she had in her head kept spinning. She forgot things. She interrupted her friends when she didn’t mean to (which always annoyed them). She was either too much or too little, and she was always either late or way too early. She could be right in the middle of a large group of friends and feel like she just never fit in just right. Something was wrong with her. She decided she must be broken.
Today’s words kept repeating in her head, “Wow, is EVERYTHING about you?” Beth said as she rolled her eyes at the lunch table. Henry had mentioned that his grandpa was in the hospital. Suzy had known how that had felt. Since last year her grandpa passed away. And even though she hoped that Henry’s grandpa would get better and go home as soon as possible, she knew he was feeling the fear of losing someone he deeply loved. She was just trying to share her experience in hopes that it would comfort Henry. But Beth assumed she was just trying to take the attention away from Henry. At that moment, she felt like she missed a memo, or everyone had gotten the same life instructions in life except. She hated being this way. The way she was. Whatever that was. She couldn’t lay there forever. So she decided that maybe taking a walk to the local bike shop would make her feel better. Most days of the week, Suzy would visit Mr. George at his bike shop. They would play checkers or just sit and tell stories when business was slow. He always knew how to make her feel better. So she grabbed her sneakers and a coat and headed out the door but not before leaving a note for her mom, in case she came home from work early.
The door chimed as Suzy pushed the door open to Mr. George’s Bike Shop. As soon as she entered, she noticed a light purple banana seat bike with a wicker basket. Her eyes widened.
“Pretty neat, eh? Just got that one in,” Mr. George said behind the counter. He had a pencil in his hand as he looked down and wrote in scribbled penmanship on a notepad. Suzy took a seat next to the counter and exhaled.
“You okay?” Mr. George asked, looking up with a furrowed brow.
“Yeah . . . Just a tough day at school.”
Mr. George had a twinkle in his eye. “Well, I have a story for you that might make you feel better.”
Suzy looked up and smiled. She loved Mr. George’s stories. She hoped it was a spooky one since the leaves had started to fall.
“First, how about some hot apple cider? I was just making some and hoped you’d stop by.” He smiled and made his way to the back of the store.
“You read my mind,” Suzy said with her eyes twinkling.
Mr. George placed two cups of hot apple cider on the counter and sat down on a wooden stool behind the counter. “Have you ever heard the legend of pickle arm?”
Suzy’s eyes grew large as she shook her head and settled in to hear the story.
“Long ago in a factory town lived an ordinary man. He left his house every day at 6:00 a.m. for the pickle factory and came back every night at 6:00 p.m. Most days were boring and spent placing the tops on pickle jars for hours so that the machine could seal the jars. It was normally quiet, and most people sat in silence and did their job. However, one day he got promoted to a new job, a job that made sure there were enough pickles in each jar. He thought that each jar should have four pickles in the jar, but his coworker thought there should be five. They bickered back and forth, and when he wasn’t paying attention to the machine next to him—THUD.”
“What!” Suzy said with wide eyes.
“His arm was gone, and to save his life, he had to use a pickle for an arm. Hence the name. Pickle Arm. Legend says that he still haunts the woods trying to find a new arm to replace his pickle arm.” Mr. George finished his story with a smile.
Suzy laughed. “What a silly story.”
“I know, but did it make you feel better?”
“Yes . . . I guess so,” Suzy said she with a smile.
“Sometimes just taking your mind off a bad day helps you feel just a little better,” Mr. George said as he gathered their empty glasses of cider and brought them to the back.
Suzy looked down at her watch. “I probably should get back home and start my homework.”
“Do you have a little more time?”
“I mean. I guess I have a little bit. Why?”
“Want to take that for a spin?” He pointed at the purple bike with a twinkle in his eye.
“Really? For real? That’s okay?”
“Of course, it’s the floor model, so as long as it comes back in one piece, we’re good. Just make sure you’re not gone too long. I wouldn’t want your mom to get worried if you missed dinner.”
“I’ll be quick. Thank you!” Suzy said as she took the helmet from Mr. George’s hand and wheeled the bike out—gently but quickly.
Mr. George’s Bike Shop was hidden in a neighborhood where most people biked instead of driving, so it was easy to find an empty parking lot and a few good sidewalks to test out the bike. First, she started in an empty church parking lot next to the bike store. Just so she could get the feel of the bike. The more she rode in circles, the more it felt right, so she decided to take it to the sidewalks. Even though this moment felt like a dream, all she could think of was the words, “Is EVERYTHING about you?” She just couldn’t shake it out of her mind. Why was she so stupid? She was just trying to help, but instead, she had messed everything up. Just like she always did.
Suzy felt like her head was spinning, and the more she thought about that moment, the more her head spun. The wind was hitting her cheeks and making them cold and rosy. She also noticed something odd. The faster she rode, the more her bike shook. But it wasn’t because she was going faster, it was because her bike was slowly lifting off the ground. Her stomach did somersaults, and before she knew it, she was floating above the stop signs and streetlights. But it didn’t stop there, she was now above the powerlines floating next to birds who sat perched on top of the wooden pole. She floated over Betsy’s Bakery, and the smell of baked apple pies hit her nose. Her favorite. She wondered if anyone below could see her floating so high above. Maybe they just thought she was just another bird in the sky. She liked that thought.
As she floated, she noticed one thing, she didn’t care about those words anymore. Why did Beth get to tell her things about herself. Not anymore. She knew that she cared about other people, she just did it in a different way. The bike wobbled sideways, and Suzy gripped the handlebars tighter. She was now high enough that all her neighbors looked like little ants. The cars looked like toy cars, and the buildings looked like she could scoop them up and put them in her pocket. She should have been scared, but she wasn’t. She felt free. The shadow was gone, and she felt lighter. Up here, she liked herself. Her love for stories, her compassion for her friends, and her silly sense of humor.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a giant tree that she was barreling toward. Before it was too late, she swerved out of the way and realized she was now descending. She hadn’t thought about what would happen as she fell, but it was almost like a cloud was under her. Slowly, she continued to float all the way down until she hit the concrete with a gentle bump. She had found herself in front of Mr. George’s Bike Store. She unclipped her helmet and wondered how she would explain this to Mr. George. Or if he would even believe her.
Maybe I won’t. She thought to herself. Maybe this will just be between me and the clouds. She smiled. She liked that thought. Because today turned into a good day. Finally. And she didn’t want to lose that.
The next day at school she decided to not sit with Beth and the other kids at her normal table. Maybe she would sit by herself or—who was that? she thought to herself. A girl with bright red hair, tucked back in a large braid, sat reading a book and munching on carrots. She was sitting alone, and Suzy thought maybe she would give this whole friend’s thing another try. Give herself another chance.
“Hello, do you mind if I sit here?”
“Not at all.” The girl looked up and smiled.
“Anne of Green Gables. I love that book!” Suzy said with a smile.
“Me too!”
“I’m Kate. I’m new here.”
“Suzy. I was new last year. It’s not fun at first, but it does get better.”
“Really? That makes me feel better.” Kate smiled.
Suzy and Kate ate their sandwiches as they talked about how many times they both read Anne of Green Gables, what their favorite chapter was, and which movie adaption of the book was their favorite. 1985 Canadian version of course.
“I was thinking about checking out the library. Want to come with me?” Kate said hopeful.
“I never would miss a chance to be among the books. Plus, I can give you a tour with my eyes closed.” Both Kate and Suzy laughed.
As Kate and Suzy both made their way to the library, Suzy thought that maybe it wasn’t about trying to change yourself to make people understand you, but it’s finding people who already understand you just the way you are. Suzy smiled as she opened the wooden door to the library. Today was going to be a good day. Finally.
Crystal Lynn Writing 