Free The Weight of Rain by Mariah Dietz

wall.
    “What? No! You have to come ride with us,” she objects.
    “I haven’t been on a bike in like ten years. I don’t think my outer layer of skin is going to look very pretty on these new floors.”
    “Everyone can ride a bike.” Her head falls to the side, daring me to disagree.
    “Not well,” I assure her.
    “Come on, Mercedes. She doesn’t want to, she doesn’t have to,” Summer objects. The fact that her eyes won’t settle on me makes me realize her sentiment is lacking something basic. Her outfit is simple and easy: a pair of skinny jeans and a graphic T-shirt. Somehow, the way she manages to wear them makes me feel uncomfortable and underdressed in comparison, though my mint green pants and floral blouse were even marveled by Allie yesterday when I set them out. I could likely wear one of the beautiful dresses that Allie and Charleigh create and still feel inadequate. Summer has a presence I can’t begin to compete with, let alone relate to.
    “Yeah, remember? You never push someone’s comfort zone on a bike. It makes Uncle King pissy as all hell to do all the paperwork that goes with broken bones.” Kash looks from Mercedes to me and winks, leaving me to wonder if he’s serious. “We can help get her comfortable with riding again by showing her how fun it is.” His eyes are bright, and his smile has become wide and inviting. “I bet she’ll want to join us soon!” He grabs a bike leaning against the wall and swings his leg over the seat. It looks too small under him, like it’s made for a child. He grips the handlebars and pulls up, making the bike bounce on the back tire as he twists his body to turn it. The movement is clearly practiced. It’s smooth and looks so simple, my brain tricks myself into thinking I’ve done the same maneuver myself in the past. Like I can feel the jars from the pavement as the front tire hits the cement again. Then he twists the bike below him, and suddenly, my eyes can’t move fast enough.
    Kash moves with a grace and elegance that doesn’t seem possible. It leaves me mesmerized, watching as he glides through the air, turning and twisting, leaving me with an envy and appreciation I didn’t know I would possess for the sport.
    Parker walks in shortly after, joining Summer and Kash in perfecting moves that seem impossible. Mercedes rides for a while and then returns her bike and sits beside me, naming moves and spins, and telling stories about the group and her own experiences. This isn’t the first time I get lost in her words and completely forget that she’s only ten. The fact that she hasn’t been treated like a child—given the ability to pretend that the world holds only hope and potential—saddens me and broadens that maternal instinct I feel toward her.
    “Dude, you aren’t watching! You’re going to miss it!” Mercedes cries, plunging a hand forward to redirect my attention to the ramps. I oblige and within seconds feel her head resting against my shoulder.
    It feels like the biggest accomplishment I’ve yet achieved.
     

     
    “W HAT ARE you doing?” I ask.
    “Freaking out!”
    I watch Allie pace her and Charleigh’s loft. Her neck is stretched forward and her shoulders are hunched as her eyes intently move around the crowded tables and fabric-covered floors. “What are you looking for?”
    “The fabric I picked up last weekend!” Her eyes swing toward me with a look of anguish that makes my eyebrows rise. “Sorry.” Her apology is clipped, removing any trace of sincerity, but I accept it and move to the kitchen where I take a seat on a stool so as to be out of the way. It’s moments like these that I really resent Kenzie and her male visitors.
    “Remember telling me I have a long torso, so empire waists look…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you said, but you said to wear an empire waist dress.”
    I track her as she rifles through her shared closet. Her hands are quick and aggressive but gentle as they shove