trust

she crested the hill in the middle of the blacktop. a car coming the other way would have easily demolished her body and her red banana-seat bicycle. her mom told her so all the time.

the thought didn't even cross her mind as she soared up and over the hill, her heart levitating into her throat and her tire criss-crossing the double yellow line.

she could look down on the valley and her town at the bottom of the hill. no moving traffic for as far as her eyes could see. it was only then that she remembered her mom's warning, but she was already gaining speed as she dropped down the hill and she left it behind again.

her gap-toothed laugh bordered on a yell as she flew into town, coasting, standing on her pedals, ponytail screaming out behind her, eyes big as sunflowers. only her front break worked so she often didn't use it; instead she'd drag her sandaled feet until the friction brought her to stop. as she sailed towards the only stop sign in town she didn't even drop her feet to the street. the stop sign was a mailbox, a parked car, a broken gate: just scenery.

then it was behind her and she was on her way out of town, recovering speed as she started to pump the pedals as hard as her eight-year-old legs would go, building up momentum to climb the hill on the other side of town, bike rocking from side. she stood on the pedals and gripped the handles and aimed her tire towards the sky.