Chapter Text
Since she first learned how to talk, Natalie Goodman had always been a quick learner. Quick to stand, quick to walk, quick to read. She liked learning, and she liked being ahead. So it really shouldn’t have surprised anyone when one day, at five years old, she decided to learn how to ride a bike.
That morning had started like any other in the Pacific Northwest, with gray skies, mild air, and the drone of suburbia humming in the background. In their white-picket-fenced home on Walton Way, Natalie’s mother, Diana, lay fast asleep on the couch, completely oblivious to the possibly dangerous activities of her youngest child.
This wasn’t the first time an impromptu nap like this had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last. Diana wasn’t a bad parent, exactly, but not a great one, either. Diagnosed with Delusional Bipolar Depressive Disorder, she had recently begun taking a whole new rainbow of medication that were both ineffective and drowsiness-inducing, as evidenced by the almost narcoleptic sleeping spells that they triggered. They numbed not only her thoughts but also her senses. Whether it be a call from her psychiatrist or her crying child, nothing woke her. And conveniently, her husband, Dan, was at work on weekdays, leaving their two kids to more or less fend for themselves.
When they weren’t at school, Gabe was usually at a friend’s house or gallivanting about the nearby cul-de-sac. And Natalie was… around. She would usually read, play with toys, or eat snacks. Sometimes, their nearby neighbor’s nieces would come and hang out, but mostly, she found herself alone, waiting for her mom to wake up or someone else to come home.
But not today.
Today, Natalie had decided she was going to ride a bike. Equipped with her light-up sketchers and matching training wheels, she was ready. She crept out from her room where she had been plotting and tiptoed past her sleeping mother, her tongue sticking out slightly in determination as she made her way into the garage. Natalie held her breath, though she knew her mom wouldn’t wake up. Still, she breathed easier when she made it out of earshot, thankful for the soft carpet muffling her steps as she closed the door behind her with a click. Reaching into the darkness, she flicked on the light.
And there it stood, in all of its shiny pink glory. Her bike. A birthday gift from forever ago (a whole year ) that her parents had promised to teach her to ride someday.
Apparently, someday meant never.
Natalie’d asked and asked and asked, but there was ‘just no time’. She thought that was what her teacher would call a “lousy excuse”. They’d just taught Gabe to ride, after all– without even his training wheels. The proof was leaning in the corner, decked out in all its big kid glory: his red and black Spiderman bike, complete with a kickstand and pegs that he only sometimes let her ride. Gabe thought he was such a pro now, but he was actually just a show-off. He kept talking about wanting a dirtbike, or riding in circles around Natalie like a vulture.
She hated it when he did that, which was why she had to do this. So he would finally leave her alone.
Casting one last dirty look at her brother’s stupid bike, she pushed her own out onto the driveway. The pavement crunched under the tires, the charms on the spokes tinkling as they fell back and forth. The air was crisp around her, her smile as big as the oak tree next door.
Natalie pushed the bike to the center of the driveway and swung her leg over it. She took a deep breath in, imagining that she were a bird, about to flee the nest for the first time. Things were scary, but she could do it. After all, how hard could it be, if nearly everyone knew how?
She was going to ride this bike.
It shook a little as she got on, and her resolve wavered with her balance. If only her grandparents had gotten her the bike she really wanted, instead of this stupid Barbie one. Ever since they saw the new Avengers movie in theaters last year, Natalie had been obsessed with superheroes, especially Thor. She wanted to fly around like him and have immeasurable strength. Maybe then her parents would pay attention to her like they did Gabe.
(Plus, she liked the way Thor’s hair looked just like hers, only longer. Her mommy said she could have hair as long as his if she ate her vegetables, but Natalie had some serious doubts.)
Gabe’s bike was Marvel, just like he’d asked. Natalie had practically been green with envy when they’d unwrapped them this past Christmas, as gifts from their grandparents. Superheroes, she’d been told, weren’t “girly” enough, so she’d gotten this instead.
Even though her friend Sarah said Barbie was “super cool”, Natalie would’ve preferred Thor. And maybe that bike would’ve been easier to ride.
At least it had a super cool bell and basket, two things Gabe’s didn’t. Natalie grinned, relishing her tiny victory in a way only younger siblings can. She took a deep breath, using the spite to fuel her bike-riding mojo.
“I can do this,” she whispered to herself, her gap-toothed lisp soft but fierce. “I can do this.”
She would have to, after all, since nobody else would. Her dad had promised to teach her how to ride it, just like he had with Gabe. But days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and now it was the middle of summer. And still nothing.
Natalie loved to learn. And to be ahead. But by now, all of Natalie’s friends could ride, and she was stranded at home with her mom. She could do this. She had to do this.
Reaffirming her motives, her sketcher-clad foot pushed the bike pedal, and the bike jolted into motion. The driveway sloped toward the street, giving her a little extra help. If she tilted her head just right, it almost felt like she could be flying, a fact which both excited and nauseated her.
The bike sped up a bit, and she giggled at the rush it brought her. This wasn’t so hard! All she had to do was move her feet, and the bike moved with her. Pedal. Push. Fly.
She brought her feet down again and again, squealing as the wind whipped through her hair and the tires hummed beneath her. She was flying , just like Thor!
Natalie squeezed her eyes shut in pure delight, soaking in the moment. Her parents were going to be so proud of her. She never wanted this moment to end, never wanted to reach the end of the driveway.
But as all good things must come to an end, so must all driveways. The one on Walton Way was no exception, ending abruptly with tall bushes flanking either side of it. As Natalie sped towards the road, the smooth pavement under her gave way to rough gravel. Instantly, the smile was wiped from her face as the bike shook and rattled like it was going to explode.
She gripped the rubber handles, trying to wrest back control. No, no, no , this was not supposed to happen! She was supposed to be a bike-riding expert, not die in some freak accident because she forgot to wear a helmet.
Beneath her, her front tire betrayed her as it hit one rock particularly hard. It jerked to the side, wrenching the pink grips from Natalie’s control and her feet from the pedals. Everything after that seemed to happen in hyperspeed. Her body went one way. The bike went another.
They both ended up on the ground.
Dazed, Natalie stared up at the sky. It didn’t look like she was flying anymore. It looked like she’d fallen on her butt and ruined everything.
Her head spun, not quite back on her shoulders. Her knees hurt. Her elbows throbbed. The Barbie bike lay feet away, perfectly intact, as if to spite her. She sniffled. Everything hurt, and she was afraid to look. She didn’t want to see a bone sticking out or something, like the scary stories Gabe sometimes told about bad bike accidents.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she sat up slowly. If she didn’t look, it wouldn’t be real. She would still be flying, going faster than anyone probably ever had. Or she’d be inside, stealing her brother’s action figures. Anywhere but on the ground, achy and alone.
Natalie’s eyes burned, and she scrubbed at them furiously, wishing that she could will the tears away. Gabe didn’t cry half as much as she did, and he usually thought she was annoying for it.
The thought was enough for her to force her eyes open– and freeze right after. Blood. It was smeared across her tattered palms, her scraped knees, and even her brand-new shirt. The sight of the smiling whale splattered with dark red liquid was enough to burst the dam behind her eyes, and she fell into hiccuping sobs right there on the driveway. She had been right: it was so much more real now.
“Mom?” she tried timidly, staring at the huge stretch of yard between her and the front door. “Mommy?”
Her small body shook with the force of her tears. Her nose ran. She wailed. And still nobody came. She thought that if she cried long enough or loud enough, maybe someone would hear and come help her. Her mom, woken up by Natalie’s panic. Her dad, home from work early after sensing her distress. Even a neighbor, concerned about the noise.
But no one did. There was no sound of footsteps, no doors opening, no worried mother fussing over her. No car noises. She was well and truly alone, with only the slight breeze rustling the bushes for company.
Natalie wasn’t sure how long she sat there, hugging her scraped knees and feeling sorry for herself. It felt like forever, judging by the clouds sluggishly passing above, their vague shapes wispy and dreamlike. Beneath her, the pavement grew warmer as the day trudged on, and her tears tapered off into pouting. She picked at a scab on her leg and thought about running far, far away. Further than even the sounds of traffic in the distance. Somewhere she could never be found.
Lost in her fantasies, she almost missed the soft sounds of footfalls on pavement. Almost. Her head shot up, and, with an eagle-eyed stare, she honed in on a small figure several feet away.
Gabe.
He had left to go hang out with his friends earlier that morning, back when Natalie was still hammering out the dents in her plan. Usually, he wouldn’t be back until the sun was low in the sky, returning only for dinner like a wayward cat. Of course today was the one day he’d return early. Lucky her.
Gabe froze when he finally saw her. Natalie could only imagine how she looked in his eyes: his loser sister curled up on the driveway, looking like she’d fought a bear and lost.
Her bottom lip quivered. Blood was smeared on her knees and arms (and shirt), and her face was puffy and blotchy. Snot dripped down her face, and she sniffed it back up uselessly, in that way that little kids do.
In front of her, Gabe squinted at the wreckage, clearly trying to puzzle things out. “Uhhh, what happened? Why are you crying?”
Natalie felt her cheeks heat up, and she avoided eye contact, refusing to answer. Maybe he would get bored and go away if she didn’t engage.
As if hearing her thoughts, he poked her instead, trying to get her attention. “Hey. Hey. Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Just leave me alone, Gabe,” she said, pushing his hand away.
He rolled his eyes, gesturing at her various injuries. “Come on, Nat. You’re literally bleeding.”
He was right. She stared down at the blood on her shirt, red marring the glittering sequins. Her eyes watered, and she ducked her head so Gabe wouldn’t see, trying to be tough.
Natalie waited for her eyes to clear before she responded, her voice much quieter than she would’ve liked. “It’s not that bad.”
If Natalie were looking at her brother, she would’ve seen his frown deepen, followed by a determined set to his jaw. She could be stubborn, but so could he.
Assessing the damage again, Gabe tried a different tactic, asking (what he thought) was an obvious question: “So why didn’t you ask Mom for help?”
Big mistake.
If looks could kill, Gabriel Goodman would have died right there. Natalie would’ve thought he’d known just how many times she asked and begged her parents for help, just to go unanswered. Obviously not. Just like usual, he didn’t have a single clue.
She crossed her arms over her chest and paused for a second to control her breathing before snapping back, “Why do you care?”
Her anger hit Gabe like a physical blow, and he took a step back, thrown off and bewildered by the sudden force of it. His heel hit the curb, and he turned to look at the house. His eyes lit up like a lightbulb had gone off behind them. Hastily, he said, “Mom’ll know what to do! We should go get her.”
He grabbed Natalie’s elbow to help her up, and again she shrugged him off, growing less upset and more angry. Of course Gabe didn’t know that their mom was asleep; she was always her perkiest self (or tried to be) when he was home. Every morning, it was the same. She would get up, pack him a lunch, and take him wherever he wanted, coming back home to fall asleep again and leave Natalie to her own accord.
She used to try to wake her mom up, but Dad said she needed her rest. Besides, Mom didn’t like being woken up anyway– she usually just stared at the wall. It scared Natalie, sometimes. The switch that flipped inside of her mom when it was just the two of them. The side of her that nobody else got to see.
Gabe tugged her again, and the thread of Natalie’s patience snapped. “Mom’s asleep.”
The truth finally came out, and instead of feeling relieved, she felt guilty.
Across from her, Gabe’s brow scrunched up in confusion. He craned his neck skyward, staring at the midday sun partially obscured by clouds. “What? Why?”
Natalie scoffed, both annoyed at his obliviousness and feeling superior for knowing more than him. “She always is.”
“Okay…” Gabe continued, still trying (and failing) to gauge Natalie’s opinion as he spoke. “Well then, we’ll just wake her up?”
Instead of responding right away, Natalie looked down again, picking at her fingernails.
While her mom normally didn’t like being woken up, seeing Gabe might be a nice surprise. Plus, her mom had always said to wake her if “there was any blood”.
Well, there was blood .
She weighed her options, chewing on her lip. Noticing the silence that Gabe usually would’ve filled, she glanced up. He was holding out a hand to help her.
She took it.
Hauling her up, he gave an exaggerated groan. “Jeez, you’re getting big.”
With the words, he grinned at her, holding his arm like it hurt. He was hoping for a laugh– or at least something other than the tears that had been in her eyes for the last five minutes– and was rewarded with an elbow to the side. Even though he was left gasping for air, he decided he’d take it. It was the best he was going to get.
Together, the siblings made their way up the driveway. Past the bushes, past the wreckage of the Barbie bike, and towards the house, they walked together, their steps always just out of sync.
“You know,” Gabe said, “I could’ve just taught you how to ride.”
Natalie stopped in her tracks.
“Oh.”
Why hadn’t she thought of that? She considered it for a second, the thought having never crossed her mind before. If Gabe was the expert he claimed to be, it should be easy peasy to learn.
Tentatively, she smiled. “Yeah. I would like that.”
Gabe smiled back, and they turned to keep walking to the house. Tomorrow would be the day she would finally learn how to ride a bike. Tomorrow.