Carolina Moon

sniffled.
    She was just six.
    “Hope! What the heck are you doing?” Cade rushed down the lane, his Nikes bulleting on the gravel. His father had dropped him off at the entrance to Beaux Reves, giving him his freedom for the rest of the Saturday morning. His whole world had been wrapped around how quickly he could get his bike and ride to the swamp to meet up with Wade and Dwight.
    And here was his old and beloved three-speed, crashed, with his baby sister sprawled beside it.
    He wasn’t sure which he wanted to do more, yell at her or croon to his wounded bike.
    “Oh man, look at this! You ruined the paint. Damn it.” He hissed the last. He was just beginning to try out swear words in secret. “You got no business taking my bike. You got your own.”
    “It’s a baby bike.” She lifted her face and tears streaked through the fine layer of dirt on her cheeks. “Mama won’t let Daddy take off the training wheels.”
    “Well, jeez, guess why.” Disgusted he righted his bike and sent her a superior look. “Go on inside and get Lilah to wash you up. And keep your sticky fingers off my stuff.”
    “I just want to learn.” She swiped a hand under her nose and through the tears shone a light of defiance. “I could ride as good as you if somebody’d teach me.”
    “Yeah, right.” He snorted, swung a leg over the bar. “You’re just a little girl.”
    She sprang to her feet then, thin chest heaving with insult. “I’ll get bigger,” she said between her teeth. “I’ll get bigger and I’ll ride faster than you or anybody. Then you’ll be sorry.”
    “Oh, now I’m shaking.” The amusement was coming back, sliding into his deep blue eyes, crinkling them at the corners. If a guy was going to be saddled with a couple of little sisters, the least he could do was tease them. “I’ll always be bigger, I’ll always be older, I’ll always be faster.”
    Her bottom lip trembled, a sure sign more tears wanted to come. He sneered at her, shrugged, and began to pedal up the lane, popping a quick wheelie just to prove his superior talents.
    When he glanced back, grin wide, to make sure she’d witnessed his prowess, he saw her head was bent, her tangled hair hanging forward in a curtain. A thin trickle of blood slid down her shin.
    He stopped, rolled his eyes, shook his head. His friends were waiting. There were a zillion things to do. Half of Saturday was already gone. He didn’t have time to waste on girls. Especially sisters.
    But he heaved a weighty sigh and rode the bike back. As annoyed with himself as with her now, he hopped off.
    “Get on. Damn it.”
    She sniffled again, knuckled her eyes, and peered at him. “Really?”
    “Yeah, yeah, come on. I haven’t got all day.”
    Joy sprang into her, rushing her heartbeat as she climbed onto the seat. As her hands clutched the rubber tips of the handlebars, she giggled.
    “Pay attention. This is serious business.” He glanced back, toward the house, and hoped to God his mother didn’t chance to look out. She’d have them both skinned for supper.
    “No, you gotta, like, center your body.” It embarrassed him to say body, though he couldn’t say why. “And keep looking forward.”
    She looked up at him, all trust, her smile bright as the sunlight that streamed through the new spring leaves. “Okay.”
    He remembered the way his father had taught him to ride and kept his hand on the back of the seat, jogging lightly as she began to pedal.
    The bike wobbled comically. They made it three yards before she went down.
    She didn’t cry, didn’t hesitate to get back on. He had to give her points for it. They pedaled and jogged together, up the lane and down again, past the big oaks, the sunny-faced daffodils, the young tulips while late morning waned away to afternoon.
    Her skin was slicked with sweat now, and her heart kept bumping, bumping, bumping. More than once she bit her bottom lip hard to hold back a squeal as the bike tipped. She heard his breath near her ear, felt his hand reach to steady her. And was filled with love for him.
    More than for herself now, it was for him she was determined to succeed.
    “I can do it. I can do it,” she whispered to herself, as the bike tipped and was righted. Her eyes narrowed in the fierce concentration of a child with only one goal, one world, one path. Her legs trembled, and the muscles in her arms were tight as drums.
    The bike wobbled under her, but didn’t fall. And suddenly Cade was jogging along