When the time had come to get ready for trick or treating, Mom had secured all the feathers back on the leotard. My cowgirl dreams had been dashed.
The rest of the Tweety costume consisted of an old pair of fuzzy bedroom slippers, spray painted gold for my feet. A few extra feathers were left over, so Mom decided Tweety needed a headband. Then she brought out this sizable jar of greasy neon yellow makeup that I was sure was laden with toxins. It looked like something she had from the 1980’s, when apparently, it was cool to smear your child with poisons. The last bit of humiliation to be added was a handful of glitter that she poured over me, coating my head, arms, and chest. I looked like the love child of Big Bird and Liberace.
The time had come. I tried to delay going outside for as long as possible, waiting for the sun to disappear completely from the sky. I figured darkness would be my friend. It was a warm night, so Emily and I didn’t need to wear our jackets. I was willing to risk a high grade-fever in order to hide this yellow-glitter- incrusted nightmare that I was wearing, but Mom wouldn’t hear of it.
Emily and I always trick or treated together. It was her job to hold my hand, ring the doorbell, and say trick or treat. All I had to do was collect my candy. This year, since she was 10 years old, Emily wanted to go with her friends. Mom made, what I felt was, a very poor parental choice when she allowed Emily to go with her friends instead of staying with me and continuing this sacred family tradition. Didn’t she think of me at all? Didn’t she understand that I would suffer a severe candy deficit, without Emily by my side?
We were standing at the bottom of the Dean’s driveway, I swallowed hard as I watched my sister walk away with her friends to another neighbor’s house.
Mom must have sensed my fear because she drew me in close to her side and whispered, “You can do this, Amanda. You’re a big girl now. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Your sister was five when she started going up to the doors by herself. I’ll be right here.” She let go of my hand and took a step away from me.
I continued to stand there, frozen. I felt abandoned and alone. I hated it. I was terrified of a monster opening one of the doors. I had never seen a monster in our neighborhood, but there was a first time for everything.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t seem to move my fuzzy gold feet. I felt my face getting warm as butterflies took over my stomach. I was so scared to move. My eyes began to sting from the tears that were building up. Although, they could’ve been caused by the poisonous substance that was smeared across my face.
I took in a deep breath as I looked down, trying to find my courage, when I noticed a small pile of yellow feathers that had collected at my feet. My eyes followed the trail all the way back to my house. The street was covered with so many feathers, it looked like the yellow brick road. When I glanced up I couldn’t believe my eyes. Walking towards me was Andrea Morgan dressed in a full Dorothy costume with her little dog too.
I looked over my shoulder at my mom, then up at the Dean’s front door, then back at my mom.
“Go on, Amanda. Don’t be a baby,” Mom said.
Tears began to trickle down my face. I needed to make a decision. Time was of the essence. I needed to suck it up, walk up to that door, and get some candy before the rest of my feathers flew off, leaving me naked as a Tweety bird.
I looked back up at the Dean’s house. I saw my friends walking down the driveway, with their bags overflowing with deliciousness. Deliciousness that I wouldn’t be getting if I didn’t get a move on.
Then I saw him, my knight in plastic armor, with his light blue eyes peeking out from under his hood along with just a little bit of his dark brown hair.
I got excited every time I saw him. Noah was a lot taller than I was. I was pretty short for my age. A few kids at school liked to tease me about it, but not when Noah was around. He never let anyone be ugly to me.
He was coming down the driveway, by himself, and headed straight to me. His bag was loaded with candy.
When he got to me, he took the sleeve of his shirt and wiped my tears away. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not getting any candy tonight. My feathers are falling off, and I’m going to be naked in the street.” I was sobbing so hard that my words came out like hiccups. We both glanced behind me. “See all the feathers?”
“Open your bag up.” Noah started filling it with handfuls of candy from his bag.
“Noah, you don’t have to give me all your candy.”
“I’m not giving you all of it. I’m giving you half.” He smiled at me and I knew everything was going to be alright.
After we made the candy transfer, he grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the Stevenson’s driveway. I jerked my hand out of his and stopped. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to take you trick or treating and show you there’s nothing to be scared of,” he said.
I looked up at Noah and gazed into his trusting eyes. I reached out my hand timidly and he led me to the next house.
Noah walked me up to the front door and rang the doorbell. My heart started beating faster and my palms got sweaty. The door slowly opened and Mrs. Stevenson stepped out, dressed like a big fat cat. She made me laugh. Noah dropped my hand long enough for me to hold my bag open and for him to wipe his palm off on his costume. Mrs. Stevenson gave me two sour apple Blow Pops because of my bravery that night.
After a few more houses and my bag filled with candy, Noah and I walked hand-in-hand down the last driveway. Stopping at the bottom, I turned and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you, Noah.”
He smiled. “I’ll always take care of you and make sure you have candy, Tweet.”
It was the first time he called me by the nickname that would stick with me forever. And despite my total disgust with the Tweety Bird costume, I didn’t mind being called ‘Tweet’ at all by Noah. In fact, I loved it.
The unpredictability of life sucks. One minute you’re riding high with the wind whipping through your hair and the next minute you’re flat on your ass with a face full of gravel.
I had always had a passion for cycling. From the very first moment I sat on my red tricycle I knew bike riding was for me. I had gotten my first big girl bike for my eighth birthday. It was the most amazing bike ever made. Most of my girlfriends had pink bikes. Mine was yellow. I had recovered completely from the Tweety trauma, and yellow had become my favorite color. Go figure.
My bike was beautiful and different. No one else I knew had this color bike. The tassels on the handlebars were made up of white, yellow and silver threads with glitter. The wicker basket was white and silver. The white banana seat had silver specks that looked as if they lit up when the sun hit them. The spokes of the front tire were adorned with white and silver beads, and the spokes of the back tire had a noise maker that sounded like a motorcycle. Yeah, I was a badass on a yellow and silver bike.
I had thought long and hard about my decision. It wasn’t an easy one to come to, but it was time. Today was the day.
It was early on Saturday morning. I got out of bed, dressed quickly, and ran out of my room in search of my dad. I found him in the family room, reading his newspaper, drinking his coffee, and eating his usual Saturday morning breakfast which consisted of four Vienna sausages.
I leaned on the arm of Dad’s recliner and said, “Daddy, can I talk to you about something?”
The paper folded down and he gave me his undivided attention.
I leaned further in and planted a kiss on his cheek. Standing straight, shoulders back, and my voice strong, I announced, “Today is the day.”
“For what, princess?” He asked.
“To remove the wheels,” I said with confidence.
My dad paused. He looked away from me. Tilting his gaze up slightly, he brought his fingers under his chin and rubbed it in deep contemplative thought. After several seconds, he turned back towards me and asked, “You sure?”
I inhaled a deep breath and looked him in the eye before saying, “Yes, sir.”
He folded his paper and placed it on the side table. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed together as he sat up straight. “Then, let’s do this,” he said, bringing his hand down on the armrest and nodding in the affirmative.
He got up out of his chair and went to the garage to get his tools as I ran outside and stood impatiently by my bike. I stared down at the training wheels, finding it hard to believe that within the next ten minutes I would be completely free of them. The rattle of Dad’s toolbox startled me out of my hypnotic state.
When he got to the bike, he got down on his knees, and started the surgical procedure of removing the training wheels. I felt my pulse quicken with every turn of the wrench. I began rocking back and forth, barely able to contain my excitement.
I watched intensely as wheel number two slid off and was placed lifeless in the driveway. It was time. The excitement I felt only moments ago quickly turned to nervousness. Biting down on my bottom lip, my eyebrows knitted together. The tingling that had started in my fingers and toes now spread to the rest of my body. “Sweetheart, you ready to give it a try?” Dad asked.
“Huh?”
“Are you ready to ride?” Still staring at the lifeless wheels, I nodded my answer. “I know you’re scared, but you can do this. You’re a big girl now.” He gathered his tools and closed his toolbox. As he stood up, he said, “Besides, your sister was a year younger than you when she stopped using training wheels.”
“Nice,” I said, sarcastically, shaking my head slightly.
My stomach dropped when I heard his words. I was already a year behind Emily. What if I couldn’t keep my balance on the bike and I fell off? Dad would be disappointed in me. I felt the pulse in my throat begin to throb and beads of sweat started to trickle down the back of my neck. I inhaled two deep breaths, trying to calm myself. Looking up at my dad, I said, “Let’s do this.”
He smiled. “You’re going to do great. You have some catching up to do to be as good as Emily, but you shouldn’t have a problem.”
We walked my bike down the driveway. Dad held it securely while I climbed on. He looked into my eyes and said, “I’m right here. I won’t let you fall.”
I took in another deep breath and then slowly let it out as my dad made sure my helmet was secure. My right foot was planted on the pedal. I leaned up slightly and pushed off with my left foot. I felt good, in control.
The wind whipped through my hair as I started to pick up speed. My chest swelled with pride and my face beamed with a huge smile of satisfaction. I felt taller, bigger, and stronger, as if I could conquer the world.
I yelled over my shoulder, “Look Daddy! I’m doing it!” There was no response from him.
My insides started to quiver and my palms were getting sweaty. I was scared the handlebars would slip from my hands because of how wet they were becoming. I immediately pushed on the brakes to stop. I glanced over my shoulder. I saw my dad, standing at the end of our next door neighbor’s driveway. I inhaled a deep calming breath. He had the biggest grin on his face. I had ridden three houses away from mine, without training wheels, by myself. The biggest smile crossed my face.
As I rode back toward him, he began to applaud and cheer. “You did it all by yourself, princess! Congratulations!”
I hopped off my bike, pushed down the kickstand, and ran as fast as I could into my dad’s arms. He lifted me up and kissed me on the cheek before putting me back down.
While I was basking in my father’s pride, Emily came zooming by on her bright-red ten-speed bike. She popped a wheelie both times that she whooshed past us. She was always such a show off. She circled around a couple of times before coming to a screeching halt in front of us. “What’s going on?” Emily asked.
“Amanda just took her first ride without training wheels,” Dad explained.
“Good. It’s about time you stop being such a baby, Manda,” she said. I simply narrowed my eyes at her. “Don’t get all mad. I’m just teasing you.” Just then, Emily’s best friend, Erica, rode up on her bike.
“Come on Em. We need to get over to Shelly’s. She has something very important to tell us,” Erica said.
Emily backed her bike up and rode down the street, popping a wheelie before yelling at us over her shoulder, “See ya later!”
Admiring Emily’s bike skills, Dad said, “See how well your sister rides, princess? Maybe one day you’ll be as great as her.”
He had already turned his full attention back to Emily, missing my eye roll completely.