Let's Roll

"W-Woah!" Glint maneuvered the bike's handlebars while I held her shoulders steady.

This might take a bit. . . Pacing beside her, I could see she was clad in knee pads, elbow pads, and a black helmet—armored silly for almost twenty minutes of overreactions that'd slowed progress.

"You're doing fine, haha," I said to encourage her.

A hot sun bearing down guided us through our desert neighborhood. The baren street was paved and offered a smooth surface to glide Glint's bike across. But with no one else around, it'd become a relaxing stroll past ranch-style homes.

As relaxing as it could get at least.

"Th-This is harder than it looks . . ." Glint couldn't hold the handlebars without wobbling because of her constant shaking. She was having a harder time learning how to ride a bike than riding Monkey Dee.

"It just takes balance," I said, pushing her shoulders along. "You'll get the hang of things soon."

"H-Hopefully . . ."

The quiet road led past houses with huge amounts of terrain. Chain-link fences enclosed estates filled with withered trees or desert landscapes. We'd wandered into a rural neighborhood, where we could hear the distant clucks of chickens eating inside their coops. And every now and then, a horse would peer over the fences to greet us.

Glint taking in sights seemed at ease. "Wow. I never knew the countryside was this pretty."

"It's just desert, haha. The land isn't worth much, so houses usually come with a lot of it."

"But how do home prices work? In a world where it shouldn't matter if you live in the country or the city."

It was more food for thought. But common sense for anyone that knew. "Well, even though we can teleport anywhere with mirrors, most people still wanna live in cities ."

"Why?"

"Local laws usually. Like if you want to work in New York City, you have to live there."

"Ah. Maybe that's smart for the economy though."

"Yeah. Rural places like this are more lax. Anyone from California could just warp here and work since there's not many in-demand jobs."

"Hmmm . . ." Glint had a pondering expression. As she turned both bike pedals and the wheels made clicking sounds, her metaphorical light bulb lit up. "Oh! So that's why passports are so important?"

I nodded. "They're more essential than ID's, yeah."

"Neat."

We continued our stroll until arriving at a deserted intersection. Four other cyclists zoomed by across from us, before we took our turn slowly crossing. Glint's shoulders I was holding had stopped shaking; almost like she grew more confident.

"Do you wanna try riding on your own again?" I said.

Hesitation rattled her voice. "M-M-Maybe later . . ."

That burst of confidence didn't last. But I didn't mind. We had all day after all—all week actually. Chad said it'd take until at least Saturday before Glint's passport was crafted. The delicate process involved contacting insiders, who could help forge the illicit document we'd need to traverse the world. For now, easing Glint into things she'd never tried before would be how we spent our time; even if things didn't always go swimmingly.

Ahead in the distance, a school's outline appeared. Black, metal fencing surrounded multiple buildings that comprised a cafeteria, gymnasium, and main office among others. The gym bore a giant mural of a bulldog—their mascot named Oak—that was towering enough to gaze into the sparse parking outside that had almost no cars.

Glint couldn't look away as we rode by. "Woah. Your schools don't seem that different from mine."

"This was actually my high school," I chuckled. "Just graduated one month ago."

"It's not super far from your house!"

"Yeah. But most kids teleport in from Communals inside the campus."

Glint's fascination didn't cease. Her eyes were glued to the big, colorful bulldog mural, so much that I had to grip down her shoulders so she didn't ride into the curb.

"Woah, careful," I said.

"Sorry, hehe."

Then a thought crossed my mind. Actually, this could be a good place to . . .

"Something wrong, Chance?" Glint said, confused.

"Follow me." I let her shoulders go and waltzed into our school's parking lot. Glint behind me walked her bike along until we reached the most isolated area possible with zero cars in sight.

"Should we be here?" she asked.

"No problem. This'll be a great spot to ride around in."

"Oh!" Realization struck her. "I-If you say so . . ."

Just like before we left home, I gave her instructions on how to sit on the bike seat, where to grip the handles, proper posture, and general tips on balance. Glint became a shaking mess again as she tried keeping steady on the bicycle.

"Start pedaling forward," I said. "You'll have an easier time balancing if you're moving."

"U-Urghh . . ." She couldn't move ahead more than a few inches without slamming her foot down to prop herself.

Part of me was worried she'd fall over. I wanted to be closer to maybe catch her, but she'd never learn if she knew there'd always be safety nets near. So I kept some distance and became an onlooker with arms crossed.

What time is it? I checked my wristwatch. Plenty of daytime left. Though who knows how long this'll take . . .

After about ten minutes, she'd begun getting a grasp of balance. She could pedal farther out but still wobbled as she went.

"Grrr . . . " Glint said. "This is so tricky."

"Need any help?" I said as she propped her foot down.

"Yeah. It's just—I think balancing is easier than not being scared of falling."

"It's not something everyone gets the first time. Could take weeks, maybe months."

But her already dejected eyes drooped down towards the ground. She gripped both bike handles hard as lingering frustration surfaced on her face.

"I might not have months to be here," she mumbled.

"Huh?" I barely heard anything. "Say again?"

She just shook her head and hopped on the bike again. "It's nothing. Let's keep practicing."

Thirty minutes zoomed by. Glint, panting, bent down to pick her bike off the asphalt for a fifth time. Her hands—covered in scratches and cuts from falling over—were quivering as she wiped sweat off her forehead. But there weren't any hints of pain, just determination, as she leapt onto the bicycle again.

All I could do was watch on. I've already told her twice we can just go home. There's no way she's gotta push herself this hard. We have all summer for ourselves.

While she caught her breath and propped her feet down, my eyes fixed on a cut along her thigh. The wound wasn't bleeding thanks to knee guards, though her helmet bore brutal scuffs like the surface of the moon.

"Just a bit longer," she huffed, "then I'll be able to ride farther."

"You're already hurt. Let's just call it a day."

"Not yet. Not until . . . " Her voice trailed off, as if she didn't know an answer. All she gave was a blank, tired stare towards the bulldog mural gazing down at us.

I walked towards Glint until I could put my hand on her shoulder. "You're exhausted. It doesn't matter if you can't ride bicycles for now. We don't need it."

"I-I won't slow us down? When we're traveling?"

"Who said anything about seeing the world with bikes?" I chuckled. "Isn't it better to walk around and take our time?"

It was just a moment. Her eyes glimmered when she looked up at me, before glancing away. "Mm. You're right. There's no point rushing a vacation, hehe."

"Scooch your booch then," I said.

"Huh?"

"Let me have the bike."

After a confused nod, she slid off the bicycle to let me sit down. Both handlebars were wet from her sweat, though I didn't mind.

"Are you gonna show how to ride better?" she asked.

"No, I'll take us home now. Hop on."

"Eh? Wouldn't that be hard on you?"

"Don't worry. You'll just need to hold on tight."

Silence. I waited for a reply that didn't come. But she answered by sliding herself onto the bike's rear rack above the wheel. Her sudden, unexpected weight made me almost tip over before I righted ourselves.

"W-Woah!" I said. "Try not wobbling or moving back there."

Glint still didn't answer. All I heard were unbuckling sounds behind me as she strapped her helmet around her leg.

"Wait, keep your gear on," I said. "We could fall if I'm not careful."

"It's okay. I trust you—with everything."

I felt her arms wrap around my waist. She pressed herself deep into me and used my back as a pillow. Her cheek, her chest, and her abdomen all nestled themselves until a slow, calm heartbeat resonated with mine.

"Hmm? Are you tired?" I said.

"Maybe a little."

That was all she needed to say. With a smile, I gently pushed my foot off the ground and got our bike rolling home.