Soupy Saturdays With the Pain and the Great One Read Online Free PDF Page B

elbow pads, wrist guards,padded gloves, and a helmet with a face guard. He stuck the helmet on my head.
    “Where’d you get all this stuff?” I asked.
    “I collect it,” Mitchell said. “Just in case.”
    “Just in case
what
?” But I was thinking,
Hmm … maybe with all this padding I should try
.… Then I thought,
No, I have tried
.… Then I thought,
Yes, but if I don’t try one more time, I’ll never know. And this will positively, absolutely be my final try
.…
    So when Mitchell held out the shirt, I took it and pulled it on. It was way too big. So was everything else. But Mitchell didn’t care. Soon I was padded everywhere. I was so padded I waddled like a penguin.
    Mitchell led me to the front door. I caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror.
No one would recognize me in all this stuff
, I thought.
No one would know it’s me, Abigail Carly Porter, from 10 Larken Road
.
    “Riding a bike is like learning to swim,” Mitchell told me. “Once you learn you’ll never forget.”
    “I’m good at swimming,” I said. Then I added, “Not like my brother, who’s afraid to put his face in the water.”
    “You’ll be good at bike riding too.” I shook my head. Mitchell patted my back. “You’ll see,” he said.
    I reminded him to make sure the seat on my bike was very low. I reminded him that I needed to be able to put my feet on the ground whenever I wanted. Mitchell held the bike steady as I got on. My knees were shaking. My stomach felt funny.
    “Now … close your eyes,” Mitchell said.
    “Close my eyes!” I said. “Are you crazy?”
    “Come on, Abigail. Just
close
your eyes and
feel
yourself balance on the bike.”
    “I can’t!” I cried. “I can’t!”
    “Yes, you can,” Mitchell said.
    “Promise you won’t let go?”
    “I promise.”
    So I closed my eyes.
Maybe I’ll never open them
, I thought.
    “Okay,” Mitchell said. “Very good. Now let’s give it a try.”
    His voice was so soft I wasn’t sure what he said. So I didn’t move. I just sat on the bike with my eyes closed.
    “Abigail,” Mitchell said. “Open your eyes and pedal.”
    “Pedal?” I said, as if that was a crazy idea.
    “Yes, pedal.”
    So I started to pedal. I pedaled very, very slowly.
    “Faster,” Mitchell called. “Pedal faster.”
    So I did.
    “That’s it.… Keep pedaling.”
    Mitchell ran, holding on to the back of my bike. As long as he was running with me and holding on to the bike, I was okay. The second he let go, I fell. I was glad I was wearing padded
everything
. “You see!” I told Mitchell. “I knew I would fall.”

    “You know why you fell?” Mitchell asked. “You fell because you stopped pedaling.”
    “I always fall when I stop,” I told him.
    “
Aha
!” Mitchell said.
    “Aha, what?”
    “Stop
equals
fall,”
Mitchell said. “We’ve solved the problem.”
    “What problem?”
    “Your problem,” Mitchell said, as if he was talking about math. “If you want to stop pedaling, you have to brake and step to the ground. Pedal, brake, step to the ground. Got that?”
    “Pedal, brake, step to the ground,” I repeated.
    “That’s it,” Mitchell said. “Let’s try again.”
    So I tried again. Mitch held my bike steady until I got going. Then he ran with the bike. I couldn’t tell when he let go. I just kept pedaling and pedaling—until I braked—and jumped off my bike. This time I didn’t fall. But my bike did. It fell over on its side. Too bad it wasn’t padded, like me.
    “You know why your bike fell?” Mitch called, running to catch up with me.
    I shook my head.
    “Because you let go,” he said. “When you step off your bike you have to hold on to it.”
    “You didn’t tell me that,” I said. “You said ‘Pedal, brake, step to the ground.’ ”
    “Well, now you know,” Mitch said, very softly. “So, let’s give it another try.”
    “Do I have to?”
    “If you want to be able to ride, you do.”
    I thought about Emily, Sasha, and