A Few Bicycles More, page 18
Bicycle pointed to the purring lump atop her body.
“I see.” The nun sat at the foot of the bed. “Cat, this is no time to doze. Everything is packed, everyone else is dressed, and Brother Otto is overseeing preparations for tonight’s feast.”
Sister Wanda and the monks had been so happy to hear the family was coming to visit that they’d planned out a whole three-day event, including movie nights that Daff was sure to enjoy. Sister Wanda had decided that she would personally come help shepherd the family along the bike path to the Mostly Silent Monastery. She’d arrived on her old bike yesterday.
Sister Wanda whispered conspiratorially to the cat, “Speaking of the feast, I can be persuaded to look the other way when Brother Otto decides to sneak you some choice tidbits.”
The cat mrowled its approval, rose to headbutt the nun’s knee, and left.
Sister Wanda smoothed the coverlet over Bicycle’s legs. “I’ve missed you so. I’m ready whenever you are for a nice long listening session. You can tell me everything you didn’t get to say over the phone. I’m sure there’s more to the story of this past month than ‘I taught my sisters how to ride bikes.’”
“A lot more,” Bicycle agreed. She looked forward to not only telling the stories of her sisters’ secret mini-adventures but also describing how Mom and Dad had handled hearing about them. The girls had spilled every detail. Yes, Mom had cried a little, but she’d also laughed, and Dad had expressed pride in the way his daughters looked out for one another. The two of them had made a deal with the girls: if Apple, Banana, Cookie, Daff, and Bicycle would be more honest about what they wanted and needed, Mom and Dad would do their best to listen and respond without letting their fears control the conversation.
Her parents also reacted better than Bicycle could have expected when she explained the whole printing of the hundred-thousand-dollar bills to rescue the Fortunes. Mom had said, “You did what you had to do to resolve an impossible situation. Can you imagine these lovely, kind bicycles being melted for scrap?” Dad had said, “It shouldn’t be illegal to liberate bikes like that. I’m sure the law would make an exception for the Wheels of Fortunes if it knew they existed.”
Bicycle remembered thinking that exact thought herself at the scrapyard. “I am definitely your child,” she’d told them.
Cookie poked her head through the curtain. “Come on, Bicycle! The 713-C ate a twenty-pound bag of brown rice and says it will make us breakfast once we get to the bike path.”
Sister Wanda squinched up her nose. “Are we eating food made by bicycles today?”
Bicycle told her, “Don’t worry—the 713-C is a brilliant bike chef.” It had made a shrimp scampi from some old gum a few days ago. She asked Cookie, “What’s it going to make for us?”
“It says it’s a surprise. I’m hungry, so get up!”
Bicycle did.
When they’d crossed the river and assembled on the bike path, Sister Wanda said a Nearly Silent blessing and made everyone check that their shoelaces were tied. Daff fiddled with the helmet cam and reminded everyone that she was making a documentary of the trip, so they should make sure they were in the shot if they did something filmworthy.
Bicycle looked at the group and saw her own excitement about the ride ahead reflected on each face. She felt pretty sure that she hadn’t turned her family upside down by coming back. In fact, she might have started turning them right side up.
Cookie announced, “The 713-C would now like to present us with breakfast.” She encouraged her bike, “Go ahead. I’m sure it’ll be great.”
The 713-C presented a tray of golden, crispy discs fragrant with maple and vanilla.
“Waffles!” Cookie crowed. “You’re the best!”
Everyone chowed down.
Banana crammed a final bite in her mouth, swallowed, and started sprinting on the 713-B down the path. “Call me Banana Split, and catch me if you can!”
“Go get her!” Dad said to Apple. The haunted cat hadn’t been around when they’d left Twintopia, but it bounded up the trail now. It hopped up into Apple’s wicker basket, eyes wide.
Mom yelled “Slow down!” to Banana Split, then “Speed up!” to Bicycle. The rest of the family shouted at once, pedaling hard. Sister Wanda brought up the rear, chuckling.
Bicycle watched the Fortune’s odometer tick over a mile. Bicycle knew how, little by little, one mile could turn into fifty, then a hundred, then a thousand. She’d done some research with the Fortune and found out that the two-hundred-mile Katy Trail in Missouri ran close to her friends’ world-famous pie shop. A three-thousand-mile trail called the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route passed right through the campus of her racer friend Zbig’s new bike-racing school. Other paths crisscrossed the beautiful corners of their country and beyond, waiting to take them to meet old friends and make new ones.
She told the Fortune, “This could be the start of a lot more than one ride.”
The Fortune blinked, Knock knock. It is a good one that I have been saving.
“A good one, huh? Who’s there?”
Woo.
“Woo who?”
Yes, woo-hoo. I am excited as well. Woo-hoo.
Bicycle laughed. “That is a good one.” She repeated, “Woo-hoo!”
Mom chimed in with her own whooping “Woo-hoo!”
So did Dad, Sister Wanda, Apple, Banana Split, Cookie, and Daff. The haunted cat put its front paws on the edge of its basket and leaned forward. The Wheels of Fortunes spit ticker tape, glowed purple messages, mumbled with a mouthful, and played a fanfare. The family and their bikes rolled down the path toward whatever adventures, great and small, lay ahead.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book had a family helping it find a place to belong from the very start.
Thank you to my wonderful team at Holiday House and my excellent editor, Margaret Ferguson, for making sure Bicycle’s next story was as good as it could possibly be.
Thank you to my steadfast agent, Ammi-Joan Paquette, for encouraging me during the pandemic shutdown to try writing instead of lying on my couch eating Kit Kats. More thanks to all my super-duper-supportive writer friends at the Erin Murphy Literary Agency, who make going on social media a happy experience.
Thank you to my patient family members, who brought me Kit Kats whenever a moment was better faced with a chunk of chocolate than without, and who know that when a mother has given birth to multiples, she’s going to name them whatever she wants so you’d better stop pestering her. Special thanks to my parents for asking every single person with whom they come into contact if they’ve purchased my books yet.
Thank you to my beloved friends, who join me in talking top-speed and also in sitting in mostly silence, letting me be who I already am.
Thank you to Storrs Library in Longmeadow, where I wrote and edited many chapters of A Few Bicycles More on my lunch breaks, and where my colleagues celebrate every morsel of my book news and give me Kit Kats on many Fridays.
Finally, thank you to YOU, my readers. I really do read your letters and listen to your questions, and I heard you loud and clear when you wondered where Bicycle’s family has been all this time. Now you know. Write me more letters, and let’s see where the next book will take us.
DON’T MISS BICYCLE’S FIRST ADVENTURE!
A TEXAS BLUEBONNET AWARD MASTER LIST BOOK
A JUNIOR LIBRARY GUILD GOLD STANDARD SELECTION
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★ “An extraordinary pilgrimage featuring several fantastical characters and an unforgettable adventure to boot.” —Shelf Awareness, Starred Review
★ “‘Pedal headfirst’ into this terrific adventure.” —Kirkus Reviews, Starred Review
★ “The story elegantly blends elements of mystery, adventure, and fantasy.”—Publishers Weekly, Starred Review
ALSO BY CHRISTINA USS
The Adventures of a Girl Called Bicycle
The Colossus of Roads
Christina Uss, A Few Bicycles More
