“Uncle King, she’s a natural. You have to check this out.”

King’s eyes don’t even move in her direction. They’re fixed on me, and then they slowly turn to Summer. “Did you guys take a stupid pill this morning? What were you thinking? When do we allow someone who doesn’t know how to ride, to go down a ramp? Does that not sound like a liability risk?”

Parker shuffles his feet, and Summer’s face turns downward with shame. I feel my own heat with embarrassment. “Sorry, King. This was my fault. I should have stopped this,” Parker says.

“You’re damn right you should have. All of you know better. I don’t have time for this kind of stupid shit…” His words become inaudible as he turns, pressing a thumb and forefinger to the slight bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

I want to look to the others for direction, feeling like I’ve just been caught in a very compromising position. However, I don’t know any of them well enough to feel comfortable with doing so. So I stand still as a statue and wait.

“How did things go with Spencer?” Dustin doesn’t seem nearly as concerned with King’s obvious disapproval.

“I don’t know. Kash went without me.”

“To Spencer’s?” Summer’s voice is filled with confusion, and it’s obvious King doesn’t appreciate it as he turns back to face us, his eyes wide with a new challenge.

I try to make my movements as slow as I can and turn to see Mercedes. She’s watching the scene play out like a sitcom. Her eyes move to mine, feeling my stare, and her lips purse slightly. “Uncle King, Lo and I are going to take some bikes out on the trails. Want to come?”

I feel my eyes go wide with horror. This is a terrible idea for so many reasons. My attention stays on Mercedes in favor of seeing her over the revulsion I’m sure to see on King’s face. I’m waiting for him to tell her what a horrible idea this is but am distracted by Dustin discussing something with words and expressions that don’t make sense.

“Lo.” My neck snaps to face Mercedes again, my eyebrows raised with question. “Let’s go.” They climb even higher when I turn to the door and see King leading a bike outside.

I’d rather try my luck with the ramp again.

I wheel the bike outside, clipping my shin twice with a pedal, but thankfully both times the contact is only enough to cause a slight wince as I follow Mercedes to the side of the shop.

“Where do you want to go, monkey?” King asks, swinging a leg over his bike.

“Can we go into town?”

“Not today.”

“You just don’t want to wear a helmet,” she fires, her chin tilted with accusation.

“Not if I don’t have to.” His tone is brazen, like he’s not trying to show off but is unabashed to answer the question honestly.

“Want to go on a trail in the back, then?”

“That’s what I was thinking. Why don’t you lead? I’ll take the back.”

I feel my nose crinkle with this prospect, not wanting to be in the middle. “Why don’t I go last? That way you guys can go at your own speed.”

“Because I know what I’m doing.”

“Exactly.”

“Didn’t you make this your deal? These are the terms.”

It was of course. However, I thought it would entail spending the afternoon going in continuous circles while watching Mercedes ride. Never had I considered the idea of King being here. I had known before making the deal that the two were supposed to be gone today. A retort seems futile at this point, so I get back on the bike, my fears of falling and breaking my arms a distant memory replaced by how ridiculous I look on this bike and how much more embarrassing it will be to break both of my arms in front of King.

Several minutes later, I’m impressed by how well I’m keeping up with Mercedes. Though the trail is mostly packed from obvious use, it’s narrow with roots, stumps, and rocks protruding like masked men at a corn maze, they hold my attention a little too long.

“Put more weight on your toes.”

My bike swerves as I attempt to look behind me to verify if King’s directions are intended for me.

“Don’t look back! Watch where you’re going!” he instructs, his voice raised.

“I didn’t know if you were talking to me.”

“Mercedes knows how to ride. You don’t. Of course I’m talking to you.”

I’m considering ten ways to flip him off when he breaks my train of thought. “It’s easier to maintain your balance and use your muscles more efficiently when your weight is forward. Try standing a little to get the feel of what I’m saying. Then you can sit back down and you’ll understand.”

Stand up! Is he kidding? His directions only confirm he’s watching me too closely, making his stare feel that much heavier. My knuckles turn white, straining to hold tighter to the handlebars as I slowly move to stand.

The bike shifts and my body jolts before becoming rigid, my knees and elbows both locking.

“There, feel that?”

“What? Terror?”

King’s laugh nearly gets lost amongst my adrenaline rush and the breeze, but the hushed sound makes my muscles slowly retract. Before I can contemplate the fact, Mercedes’ bike lifts off the ground, her front and back tire each going a different direction. I’m not sure if my scream is vocalized or simply in my head as I drop back to my seat and stomp on the pedals to get to her.

Before I can swing my leg off to dismount the bike, King is beside her, his knees buried in the mossy undergrowth and hands working to carefully withdraw the bike.

In a hurried rush I realize there’s no kickstand and set my bike down, rush over, and take the bike from him. Mercedes is trying to conceal her cries, which are muffled in the crook of her arm, making that maternal itch become more prominent. I take a second to scan over her body, searching for blood or gashes before kneeling beside her and running a hand down her back.

“Mercedes, I need to know where it hurts, monkey.” King’s voice is steady, but his eyes reveal he’s shaken as they continuously move over her, wide with concern.

“Everywhere.” Her reply makes him move forward.

“I need you to roll over for me.”

Slowly, Mercedes shifts onto her back, her sweatshirt rising, exposing her stomach up past her belly button and revealing the area is clear of any abrasions. King reaches forward and slowly peels her arm back, exposing blood that’s smeared around her chin and neck.

“Alright, Mercedes, you know the drill. I need you to tell me if anything hurts worse than a bruise.”

I consider this analogy for a second, thinking back to how painful some of the bruises I’ve endured have been. A bone bruise is easily at the top of my worst pain experiences, but then again, unless you’re raised with horses, your chances of ever having been kicked by one are rare.

“I don’t know. I hurt everywhere.” Both of her hands move up and down, emphasizing her point. King seems relieved by the fact, however, and reaches forward to inspect where the blood is coming from.

“Looks like you’re going to match Lo,” he says, moving her chin slightly to examine a gash along her jaw. The comment makes my breath stall and my hand travel up to feel where the skin is grooved with a scar I got from climbing a fence when I was twelve.

King gets to his feet and easily lifts Mercedes, cradling her in his arms. “Can you stay here with the bikes? I’ll get her in the house and be right back.”

“Yeah, go. I’ll bring them back up.”

“No, just stay put. It’s going to get dark and it’s slick out. Summer can help get her changed.”

Against my better judgment, I nod.

Where I grew up, you can see a few miles in all directions. Sure, there are hills and vegetation and such, so you can’t actually see a person a mile away, but you can still see what’s going on around you. But here in the woods, it’s like being in a jungle. I’m surrounded by thick greenery that is so beautiful, yet so intimidating, holding the slight threat of so many possible creatures and predators. I wish I had at least thought to bring my cell phone with me. I may not get reception wherever I currently am, but at least it would offer me a little bit of light. I look up at the darkened branches, searching the sky for an idea of what time it might be, and idly wonder how things are going with Mercedes.