Biking around — short story
I was already living in the new house and, whenever I could, I would ride my bike to the garden near my house.
I loved the feeling of the wind in my face, the Sun, and most of all I loved meeting kids, to play with me.
There was a small group of three friends who appeared in the garden during the afternoon, although only one also carried a bicycle.
I loved to ride and when I could get some company I could ride for hours, foolishly happy!
When they started to come to the garden, one of them insisted on running after me, stopping my bicycle, holding the saddle-support, and asking:
— What is your name? You are very beautiful.
— Let me go! — I replied — It doesn’t matter! — And he went in another direction.
Sometimes this behavior was repeated several times through the afternoon, which exasperated, but also intrigued me.
I liked the attention, but not so much the methods.
As soon as I saw them arrive, I walked away to the Fort of São João Baptista, but eventually, we crossed paths and history repeated itself.
When I was at home I thought about them. When I was in the garden, I ran away. Typic kid behavior.
I ended up saying my name and learning his.
One day, the quieter one — who always carried a bicycle — told me that the “stalker” was his cousin and that he had a letter from him to give me, but it contained only lies:
-It said, for instance, that he was from Denmark and that he was here on vacation.
I asked him to tear it up, as I hate lying, and for a few days, I neither saw nor spoke to his cousin.
When the bike rider came alone (or just with the third friend), we usually had a lot of fun: we ran, went for walks, stopped under the trees to talk and rest a little after riding again. We challenged each other and spoke a lot about our families, about the school, about other friends…