Mountain Bike Mania (2 page)

“Well, it was a very nice dish,” she insisted. “An interesting shade of greenish brown, I remember.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I messed up the glaze,” he said. “Mom, do I have to?”

“You have to do something,” his dad said, striking the table with his hand. “If you’d rather go out for something else —”

“No, that’s okay,” Will interrupted him before he suggested anything worse. “Arts and crafts will be fine.”

“There, it’s settled,” his mom said, with a pleased-looking smile. She kissed him on the head as she got up, then made for
the kitchen. “You’ll see, honey —
you’ll get into it after a while. Just give it a chance.” The door swung shut behind her.

“At least I don’t have to
try out
for arts and crafts,” Will said to his dad. “I still haven’t got my appetite back from this afternoon.”

“I’m sorry, son,” his dad said softly, looking down at his own plate. “I’m sorry about all of this. But you can see how important
this new job is to your mother. It means so much to her. She loves being your mother and spending time with you, you know
that. But just like you’d go crazy if she was all you had in life, she’d go crazy if she didn’t have something besides you.
Understand?” Will nodded. “Try to make the best of it in arts and crafts, okay? At least until you find something you really
like.”

“Okay, Dad,” Will said. He meant it, too. He really did want his mom to be happy.

But he wanted to be happy, too. And he was pretty sure that going to arts and crafts classes after school wasn’t going to
do the trick.

W
ill sat on his stool in Arts and Crafts Workshop, staring at the object he had made. Around him, the other students, some
adults, some kids, were equally absorbed in their work. It was a good thing, too, Will thought. It kept them from noticing
the monstrosity he had created.

He’d already forgotten what he’d originally intended it to be. Right now it was best described as a brownish gray blob, vaguely
in the shape of a bowl, made of clay but with bits of colored glass and beads sticking out of it. He decided that since it
was totally useless, it was not a craft piece but a work of art. He wondered if anyone would ever pay to see it. Maybe if
he made it even uglier, until it was really spectacular.…

On the other hand, no. Arts and crafts was not for him — he’d known that right from the start. He glanced up at the clock
on the wall. Still ten minutes to go before class let out and his mother came to pick him up on her way home from work. Here
at the art school, they still had clocks on the wall. At his regular school, they’d wised up a long time ago and gotten rid
of the clocks, so students wouldn’t stare at them instead of paying attention in class.

Maybe if I put it on a base, it will look like a vase, he thought. He kneaded a small amount of clay into a pedestal and gingerly
mounted his work of art on it. A moment later, it toppled to one side and hit the concrete floor with a loud, embarrassing
splat. His creation now looked like a multicolored pizza. He shook his head sadly.

At dinner, his masterpiece sat dead center on the dining room table, for everyone to admire. Neither his mom or dad said anything
beyond “Oh, wow!” and “Interesting…” Will dug into his chow mein and tried to think how he could get out of arts and crafts
and back in front of his TV and computer.

“Will,” his mother said as she poured him some more milk, “maybe arts and crafts wasn’t such a good idea. It’s not that I
don’t like your… your work… but maybe your father and I have been on the wrong track here.”

“Huh?” Will looked up and paid attention. This sounded promising. “What?”

“Obviously,” his dad said, “it’s not working for us to force the issue. I think we have to lie back a little and wait for
a solution to present itself.”

“Are you saying I can stay home and watch TV?” Will asked, not quite believing it — and not sure he even liked that idea anymore.

“Let’s not get back into bad habits,” his mother said. “Will, let’s explore some other ideas. For instance, how about we make
a list of things you like to do.”

“Okay,” said Will, relieved at least to be out of arts and crafts.

“What activities do you like best?” his dad asked.

“Not sports,” Will was quick to say. He thought for a moment. “I guess… well, Danny went hiking at camp last summer, and he
said it was pretty cool.”

“Good!” his dad said, smacking the table the way
he always did when he was excited. “Hiking — what about it, honey?”

“Well, there are lots of trails in the hills outside of town,” his mom said. “But how’s he going to get there after school?”

“Well, maybe the school has a hiking club or something,” his dad suggested.

But Will shook his head. “Danny asked about one when school started. They had one last year, but the guy who organized it
graduated to high school. And no one seems to have wanted to form it this year.” He didn’t add that Danny was too shy to try
to do that himself. His parents, who knew Danny well, didn’t ask, anyway.

“Why don’t you give Danny a call and see if he wants to go with you on Saturday?” his dad said. “I’ll drop you off and pick
you up, and you guys can go, just the two of you.”

“Okay!” Will said, jumping up to get the phone. Finally they were getting somewhere!

Danny Silver picked up the phone himself. “Hello?” he said in his funny, nasal voice. Danny always sounded like he had a cold
or something. It didn’t bother Will — at least you knew it was Danny
when he picked up the phone. But a lot of kids made fun of him for it, and for the thick black glasses and weird clothes he
wore.

Will often felt like giving Danny some fashion advice — not that he himself got into that stuff. But he knew Danny would take
it the wrong way. Danny thought designer labels were stupid and a waste of money, and he didn’t care whether the cool kids
liked him. Not trying to fit in made him unpopular at school, but it was one of the things Will liked best about him.

“It’s me,” Will said, knowing that Danny would recognize his voice. “Wanna go hiking Saturday? My dad will drive us there
and back.”

“Sure!” Danny said eagerly. “I haven’t been hiking since the summer. I’m getting really out of shape.”

“Me, too,” Will said. “That’s kind of why I called.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“Man, I hope the weather stays good,” Danny said. “Listen, I’ve got some astronaut food I can bring, and stuff like that.
If you have binoculars, bring them along, okay? In case we see any deer or bears or birds or stuff like that. Oh, and you’ll
need
your backpack, because I always bring a lot of water, ‘cause you never know, and it’s heavy and I’ll collapse if I have to
carry it all myself.”

Finally Danny ran out of breath and came up for air. He always did that when he got excited about something. It never failed
to make Will laugh.

“Relax, we’ll figure it all out before we go,” Will said. “We’ll pick you up about nine, okay?”

“I’ll be ready!” Danny said, and hung up.

“Okay, we’re on!” Will told his dad as he came back into the dining room. “Now, what about after school? If I get some exercise
on Saturdays, can I veg on the weekdays?”

“We’ll see,” said his dad, scowling. “We’ll see.”

That meant no, as Will well knew.

“Don’t worry, Will,” his mom assured him. “You’ll find something you like. I’m sure of it.”

Will sighed. He wished he was as sure as she was.

“Hey, where’s that astronaut food? I feel like I’ve lost ten pounds already!” Will plopped down on the grass at the side of
the trail. Exhausted, he threw off his backpack, fished a bottle of water out of it, and took a long drink. Danny sat down
beside him.

“Drink a lot of water — that’s the secret,” Danny advised. “You can get really wasted otherwise.”

“Too late.” Will wiped the sweat out of his eyes and looked around. It was a hot, sunny day, and the hills around Montwood
were green and beautiful. The air smelled like pine needles, and birds were calling to one another across the treetops. Way
up above, a big bird — a hawk or buzzard — glided along on the warm air currents, looking for a meal.

They were sitting at the junction of two trails. Their trail sliced across the hillside and was fairly level. The up-slope
side was lined with low growing brush. The other trail, a narrow, rutted track, zigzagged down the hill, flattening out only
here in the clearing. The second trail met the first near some brush.

Will was just wondering what had made the ruts in the second trail, when Danny interrupted his train of thought.

“This was a great idea of yours, going hiking up here,” Danny said.

“Well, to tell you the truth, it wasn’t exactly my idea. My parents —”

“Say no more,” Danny interrupted with a wave of his hand. “It really bites, being a latchkey kid.”

Will nodded. He knew that Danny was speaking from the heart. His dad had died when he was only five — before Will had even
known him — and his mom had to work two jobs. Danny was alone a lot of the time. Will had always felt sorry for him, but now
he was glad to have a friend who could really understand what he was up against.

“How can you stand it?” Will wanted to know. “I mean, you must watch more TV than anybody!”

“Nah,” Danny said, tossing a pebble at a nearby stream. “Most days I just read. You know, at the library.”

“Yeah, that’s right. I forgot.” Will frowned.

That was one big difference between Danny and him. Danny was a real brain. He would have gotten all A’s without even trying,
but he always read up on all his subjects to learn more. It was like he wanted to know everything there was to know about
everything.

Will wished he felt that way, but the truth was, reading made his brains start to bubble after about
half an hour. And the thought of going to the library made him break out in hives.

“My mom and dad are never going to lay off me until I find some activity to do after school,” Will said, tearing open a pack
of freeze-dried astronaut ice cream. “Want some?”

Danny took a piece, and they lay there on their backs in the grass by the side of the trail, under the shade of a big pine
tree that swayed in the breeze. “What time is your dad picking us up again?” Danny asked.

“Three,” Will said. “But it’s only one-thirty. We can rest for a few minutes before we head back. Man, my whole body hurts.”
He chuckled. “My dad would say, ‘It’s good pain!’”

“There is no good pain,” Danny said. “Unless it isn’t yours.” And they both laughed.

Just then, there was a loud cracking noise as the underbrush near the junction of the two trails parted. Suddenly three people
on mountain bikes came barreling through and landed on the steep, rutted trail. Their faces had wide grins plastered on them.
One of them was yelling, “Ya-hoooo!” at the top of his lungs.

“Look out!” Will yelled. He and Danny rolled and dove to get out of their way. The cyclists never even slowed down, though
one gave a little wave to the boys, laughing loudly. In seconds, the bike riders were out of sight, and the clearing was silent
again.

“What jerks!” Danny muttered. “I can’t believe it! They almost killed us!”

Will’s heart was racing, and he, too, had been scared. But there was another feeling rushing through him, mingling with the
fear.

Exhilaration. Those cyclists were as free as could be!

Will saw them again in his mind’s eye, speeding down the mountain trail on a bicycle with the wind in their faces, smiling,
laughing, shouting — and he could see himself with them.

Will stared at the trail where the bikes had disappeared, and the thought hit him: That’s it — that’s what I want to do! I
want to mountain bike!

It had to be the coolest thing to do on the face of the entire planet!

C
an you believe those idiots?!” Danny said, incensed, as he picked himself up and dusted himself off. “Look at all this mud
they got on me!”

“Chill, Danny,” Will told him. “We’re okay, that’s what counts. I’m sure they just didn’t see us in time. We were lying down
in the high grass, after all.”

“What were they doing off the trail, anyway?” Danny continued. “They’re supposed to go single file and watch out for hikers
and horses. But none of them do. They’re nuts, I’m telling you. Mountain biking is strictly for jerks.”

Mountain biking. Will had heard of it, lots of times. But he’d never actually seen mountain bikers in action, rocketing down
a trail at top speed. Again, he pictured himself doing it. Awesome!

“I don’t know, Dan,” he said. “I think you’re just mad, that’s all. You’ll get over it.”

“This
time,” Danny grumbled, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulders. “Come on, we’ve got to get back. Your dad will be waiting.”

They walked down the trail in silence, each thinking his own thoughts. Will’s were all about the brand-new mountain bike he’d
soon be riding — that is, if he could talk his parents into it.

“I figured out what I want to do after school,” Will told his mom and dad that night at dinner. Tonight it was home cooking,
for a change. His dad had put together a big salad, and his mom had made lasagna.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” his dad asked, looking curious and hopeful.

“I want to mountain bike!” Will said.

“Mountain bike?” his mother repeated. “On a mountain?”

“Mom,” Will said, rolling his eyes at her ignorance. “Mountain biking means you bike down all kinds of trails, not just on
mountains.”

“Is it safe?” she wondered aloud. “I don’t want you getting into anything dangerous.”

“I think it’s a great idea!” his dad said enthusiastically. “And don’t worry, Maggie. Millions of people are taking up mountain
biking. According to everything I’ve heard, it’s safe so long as it’s done properly.”

“Well, I’d want to know lots more about it first,” she said cautiously. “Can’t you just bicycle around town, Will?”

“Mom, it’s not the same thing,” Will protested.