A Few Bicycles More, page 14
It lit up. IT IS NEVER WRONG TO LEND A HELPING HAND.
“Hmm.” Banana looked at Bicycle. “We can trust these things, can’t we? Would they send us off on a wild-goose chase? Ha! Get it?”
“No, I’m sure the 713-B just wants to help,” Bicycle told her. “It must have made a mistake.” She didn’t feel great, though, that two of her sisters’ adventures had been derailed by the Fortunes’ behavior.
Apple said, “Let’s not do any more adventures for a few days, then. Cookie and I can plan out every last detail of what we want to do so that nothing will go wrong for us.” She raised her eyebrows at Cookie.
Cookie waggled her head. “I know I’m not ready.”
Bicycle decided she wanted to be more ready as well. She made a mental note to ask the Fortune to mind-meld with the 713-D and 713-B and see if they could warn Apple and Cookie about any unusual characteristics of the 713-A and 713-C.
Apple’s decision to proceed slowly and cautiously went out the window that night when the family watched the evening news on television. In a segment called “Furry Friends,” a reporter arrived at the animal shelter to pretend to interview dogs and cats who needed adopting. All the animals looked nice and hopeful, except one creature described as a “spirit cat” who hid under a towel and refused to come out. The last dog on camera was called Nugget, and his appearance made Apple slide off the couch onto her knees.
“This puppy just arrived today, and he won’t be here long,” the shelter manager said, holding the black-eyed ball of white fluff in her lap. “Nugget appears to be part Samoyed, which is a breed of dog that likes cold weather. They’re nicknamed ‘smiling dogs’ because their faces always look like they’re happy to see you.”
The reporter asked Nugget, “Are you, in fact, happy to see us?” and held the microphone up to the little dog’s nose. Nugget grinned at the camera with his mouth open, exposing a pink tongue.
“Ohhh,” said Apple, reaching out to the screen with one hand.
“He is adorable,” Mom said, stroking the scar on her chin. “But you just never know with dogs.”
Apple put her hand down and slumped.
Later, when they were all in bed, Apple said into the darkness, “I need to talk to all of you about biking practice tomorrow.”
“No, you don’t,” said Daff. “I don’t think any sibling would even need Quint Sense to know that you absolutely have to go to the shelter tomorrow to walk Nugget the Smiling Dog.”
Apple said, “Cookie, you would have to pretend for the third day in a row. That’s not too much to ask?”
Cookie answered staunchly, “I will do whatever it takes to get you to walk that adorable fuzzball.”
Banana rustled around. “I can pretend to be you, Apple, no problem. Everyone knows we’re equally smart.”
Apple said, “You mean you finally understand what I’ve been saying? Bicycle, can we print a map to the shelter first thing in the morning and study it? And print a backup map? And a map of where I’ll walk Nugget? And a backup of that? What do we do if something breaks on my bike? Or if it rains? Do bikes function in the rain, or do they rust and stop working like the Tin Man in the Land of Oz?”
Bicycle answered, “Yes, we can bring maps and backups; I know a lot about fixing bikes, so I will come with you; we can bring raincoats; and rain doesn’t hurt bikes as long as we dry them off when we get home.”
Apple didn’t reply for a moment. Then she said, in a tone of awe, “I am going to walk Nugget the Smiling Dog tomorrow.”
Armed with their four maps, raincoats tied around their waists despite the sunshine, Apple and Bicycle made it to the animal shelter without any wrong turns. When they parked the Fortunes, Bicycle noticed that the compass on the 713-A had begun to spin in a lazy circle.
“Is Apple’s bike waking up?” she asked the Fortune as Apple walked into the shelter.
It is.
“Can you make sure it doesn’t do anything to mess up Apple’s dog walking?” she asked. She’d forgotten to ask it to warn her about any unusual characteristics of the 713-A.
It is an excellent bike, the Fortune reassured her.
Inside, Apple checked in at the front desk and said she’d come to volunteer as a junior dog walker. Someone had Apple fill out a form, then took her through a door where Bicycle could hear a fair amount of woofing. She felt something pat her leg and looked down. A tuxedo cat, black with a white bib and two white paws, looked up at her.
“Don’t mind that cat. It’s haunted,” the man at the shelter desk told her.
“How can a cat be haunted?” Bicycle asked.
“We’ve tried putting it in a cage so it can get adopted, but it somehow gets out and leaves the building. Then it comes back when it pleases. We can’t figure out how it finds its way out, or in, or out again. Plus, it’s been here since before I started working and never seems to age. Its eyes are, like, centuries deep, haunted by some unspeakable past.”
The cat pawed Bicycle again. She considered its yellow eyes and had to admit that it had an ancient sphinx-ish look, like it knew the most disturbing secrets of the pyramids and beyond.
Apple soon came out holding a leash attached to a grinning white fuzzball. Bicycle wasn’t sure which one of them was smiling more.
“Have fun with Nugget!” the shelter worker said.
“Oh, I will,” Apple replied. Bicycle gave the haunted cat a little wave as they left.
As soon as they were back outside, the Fortune beeped to get Bicycle’s attention. Can we please come with you? There were two teenagers checking us out and discussing whether it counted as stealing if they borrowed a bike for a ride but returned it later. I am prepared to defend the 713-A and myself if they come back, but I do not wish to make an unnecessary scene.
Bicycle relayed the Fortune’s request to Apple.
“That should be okay,” Apple replied. “I can hold on to the leash and the handlebars at the same time.” They started to walk, and Apple commented, “Hey, the compass on my bike is working. That must be due north.” She pointed the same way as the arrow was pointing, smack into the afternoon sun. “Wait, that’s west.”
The Fortune told Bicycle, That is not a magnetic compass. It is a more delicate and complex tool that points you toward the closest person who will change your life for the better.
She explained this to Apple, who said, “It’s hard to believe my life could get better right now, but wow. Let’s go that way.”
Bicycle was wary, but she couldn’t see how changing course could derail dog walking. They followed the not-compass’s directions, which led them to a dead end facing a river. The arrow pointed into the water.
“Your bike is definitely related to my bike,” said Bicycle, remembering the Fortune trying to get her to turn into the Potomac.
“Let’s let Nugget explore here a little,” Apple said.
The dog looked like a low-flying cloud on a leash, bounding through the grass and sniffing rocks. The darkest rock unfolded four legs and a tail and stretched, revealing itself to be the haunted cat. It didn’t seem bothered by Nugget’s sniffs, but it sat up straight-backed and stared at the girls.
“Is that the person who is going to change my life for the better? Do cats count as people?” Apple asked Bicycle’s Fortune.
I know for a fact that our inventor considered cats to be people.
“Is that Nugget? From the television?” someone boomed in a deep, raspy voice.
A man they hadn’t noticed dressed in camouflage fishing gear came up from the bank of the river. The haunted cat scampered away. Bicycle saw the man’s ponytail and muttonchop whiskers and recognized Mr. Wolff, the owner of the scrapyard.
He asked, “Did you get to adopt that little darling?”
“He’s not ours; we volunteered to take him on a walk,” Apple told him.
Bicycle felt nervous that Mr. Wolff might recognize her or the Fortune 713-A, but he only had eyes for Nugget.
“You mean he’s still available? I thought for sure I didn’t have a chance, so I didn’t even ask!” Mr. Wolff looked like he’d won the lottery. “Let’s take him back to the shelter right now and tell them I’m ready to adopt him. I knew the minute I saw him on TV that he’s the perfect dog for me.” He leaned over and patted the tops of his thighs. “C’mere, Nugget!”
Nugget bounded over to him, stretching the leash to its utmost.
“Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy,” Mr. Wolff rasped, scooping him up and kissing the dog’s furry little head. Mr. Wolff strode back the way the girls had come.
Apple didn’t have any choice but to follow, since she was still holding the other end of the leash. Passersby may have thought that the girls were taking Mr. Wolff for a walk. When they got back to the shelter, Apple graciously gave him the leash and said, “I know you’ll be happy with Nugget. He doesn’t pull at his collar or bark at cats or anything like that.”
Mr. Wolff thanked her and went inside.
Bicycle was impressed at her sister’s noble act. “Do you want to go ask if you can walk a different dog?” Bicycle checked the clock on the Fortune’s display. They’d walked Nugget for less than ten minutes. “We still have time.”
“I don’t know if I could handle meeting another dog yet.” Apple tapped the non-compass and asked the 713-A, “Why did you send us that way? That did the opposite of improving my life.”
The bike sent out a short spool of ticker tape from its handlebar stem. Apple pulled it off and showed it to Bicycle. It said: Now, the dog’s life is better. Ora la vita del cane è migliore. (Italian)
Bicycle showed it to the Fortune.
The 713-A was also programmed to help its rider learn foreign languages.
Bicycle shared this with Apple, and Apple perked up a little. “How do I say ‘dog’ in Spanish?” The ticker tape spooled. “Japanese? Thai?” The tape continued. “Can you show it to me in all the languages you know?” The tape sped up and covered the bike frame in droopy loops. Apple couldn’t keep up with reading it.
There are more than 7,000 languages spoken around the world today. The 713-A also knows dead languages like Old Norse and Latin, the Fortune blinked.
“You can stop the list, please,” Apple said. The ticker tape stopped. “I understand. You pointed the way for Nugget’s life to improve. Can you point for me now?”
The compass pointed back toward the dead-end street. Turning the corner was the haunted cat. It saw the girls and their bikes, and stiffened. Then it approached with its ears back, crouching low to the ground, a predator on the hunt. A few feet away, the cat lowered its head and waggled its bottom in the air, then pounced on the droopy loop of ticker tape. It batted it with one paw and twirled into the air, getting itself tangled up. It tried to free itself by twirling again, making the tangle worse. It lay on the ground and kicked the tape with its feet, mrowling as if surprised the ticker tape was winning.
“Let me give you a hand,” Apple said, bending down slowly. The cat gave her its thousand-yard stare but allowed her to unravel the paper. When it was free, it crouched and bottom-waggled again. This time it leapt onto the rear rack of the 713-A. It headbutted the bike seat and blinked at Apple.
“Do you want to go for a ride?” Apple asked it. “Do cats like riding on bikes?” she asked Bicycle, who did not know either way.
Why not try? Pochemu by ne poprobovat? (Russian), a new ticker tape said.
“I guess,” Apple said.
Apple and Bicycle mounted up, and the haunted cat rubbed itself against Apple’s lower back and purred. It was clearly interested in a ride.
Apple told it, “If I do anything you don’t like, it’s not on purpose. I’m new at this.”
They went to a park where they’d originally intended to walk Nugget. Apple rode with great care along a paved loop, avoiding sharp turns and bumps. The cat demonstrated a tremendous sense of balance, watching the world roll by. At the end of the park loop, it headbutted Apple fondly and leapt off the rack to the ground. It padded over to a taco cart and disappeared behind it. When Bicycle peered around the cart’s side, there was no sign of the cat anywhere.
The taco vendor was closing up for the day and offered the girls his last two tacos, on the house. They crunched into the warm shells.
Bicycle wondered, Was it the bike ride around the park or the free taco that improved Apple’s life? And was it improved enough to make up for losing a walk with Nugget?
“I wish I hadn’t rushed into this,” said Apple through a mouthful of cheese, meat, and taco shell. She swallowed. “If we’d had more time, I think I could have planned an adventure where everything went the way I wanted it to.”
Sometimes you choose your own adventure, the Fortune pointed out. More often than not, though, your adventure chooses you.
Bicycle thought about that. She’d tried to combine helping her sisters with helping the 713-A, the 713-B, and the 713-D, but by doing that, three of her sisters hadn’t gotten the experience they’d dreamed of. She resolved that somehow, some way, she’d make this up to Daff, Banana, and Apple—and make sure that Cookie got to eat to her heart’s content.
THE VACUUM
“I’m not going,” Cookie said. “I don’t need to.”
It had been four days since Apple had come back and told her sisters about dog walking and cat biking. The sisters had agreed that they’d do whatever it took to support Cookie having a problem-free trip to the farmers’ market the next day, Saturday. But Cookie had dug in her heels and refused to even talk about it.
The girls had finally cornered her during cycling practice. “It’s not fair if you don’t get to go,” Banana told Cookie.
Cookie answered, “I don’t need it to be fair. Our plan isn’t working. We were supposed to be filled with extra happiness because we’d gotten to go on adventures. Then, when Mom and Dad noticed us bubbling with yay, we were going to tell them the truth. Instead, they’ve noticed we’re extra tired and frazzled and—what was that word Mom used? Despicable?”
“Despondent,” said Apple.
It was true. Mom and Dad had wanted to check every girl’s temperature after Apple’s outing, because everyone was flushed—Bicycle and Apple from exercising outside on a chilly day, and Banana, Daff, and Cookie from their be-five-people efforts. Meals for this week had been quiet affairs, with no one finishing each other’s sentences. Yesterday, Mom had insisted their daughters take a break from the week’s chore of washing the cafeteria floor and get some extra rest because they’d been acting “despondent,” one of her crossword puzzle clue words. It turned out to mean “mopey.”
“I can’t help moping, I didn’t get to do any real karate,” groused Banana.
“Every time I pick up my camera, I think that the next time I see another horror movie in a theater, I’ll be a grown-up, probably devoid of creative sparks,” Daff said.
“And I keep brooding over the walk I didn’t get to take with Nugget,” admitted Apple. “I thought I was doing a better job of hiding my feelings from Mom and Dad, but Mom keeps giving me hugs ‘just because.’”
“And Mom’s started sleeping on our rug again. I’m not going,” said Cookie. “Let’s have things go back to normal.”
Banana said, “But, Cookie, you could have the perfect adventure. Then, when you come back bubbling with happiness about how you won the eating competition, your happiness will be ours, too, because we helped you do it. Mom and Dad will see it, and we’ll tell them how we are ready for more independence, and then I can try again to do a karate class by myself!”
“You’re our last chance,” Daff said. “If this were a movie, the audience would be on the edge of their seats watching you ride toward your triumph, rooting for you, and for us.”
Apple said, “We learned a lot on our three rides, and we came up with a good plan for you.”
Banana waggled her eyebrows at Cookie. “It’s prize-winning apple pie.” Their parents had taken them to the convenience store for treats, and they’d all seen the notice about the final eating contest of the season. The bakers who’d won the top three spots at the county fair for their apple pies were providing the victuals for the contest. “And you get to bring home whatever you don’t finish.”
Cookie’s face got dreamy. She murmured, “Pie.” Then she asked Bicycle, “Do you think it’s a good idea? You’ve gotten to see the other adventures.”
Bicycle had been trying to stay out of it. She didn’t want to make Cookie do anything she didn’t want to. Then again, she could see how much Cookie truly did want to do this, as long as it didn’t stress out her sisters and parents. It hit Bicycle that Cookie was trying to be unselfish, but at the same time was denying her true self. Bicycle knew what that felt like.
“I think it could be great,” she said. “I had the Fortune ask the 713-A, 713-B, and 713-D if your bike has any unusual talents we need to be on the lookout for. Its main ability is its capacity to carry fifty times its weight in cargo. That’s why your frame is thicker than anyone else’s—it’s super-strong, with interior chambers. The 713-C isn’t going to blast music or give you strange advice or point you in the wrong direction.” She added, “I’ll stick with you the whole time. We can do this.”
Cookie appeared on the verge of giving in. “Will you share the pie I bring home?” she asked the sisters.
“No!” Banana said. “Because you’re not bringing any home. You’re going to eat everything they give you and bring home a trophy, and we will be so proud of our food-devouring Cookie Monster sister. Now, will you listen to the plan we came up with?”
Cookie was ready to listen.
The next day, as she strapped on her helmet, Cookie asked her sisters, “You promise that if this goes well, we’ll tell Mom and Dad tomorrow, so I don’t have to keep secrets anymore?”
“Cross my heart and hope to pie,” said Banana. “Ha!”
“And you also promise that if this goes wrong, we are never telling them anything and giving up on adventures?” Cookie went on.
