Free Julian's Glorious Summer by Ann Cameron Page A

had youreyes closed when I came up. I wish you’d seen me! I just rode that bicycle right up here on the grass!”
    â€œOh,” I said, “you borrowed a bicycle?”
    I was hoping there was still some power in my wish.
    Gloria smiled a huge smile. “It’s not borrowed!” she said. “It’s mine!”
    My wish was dead. Maybe it had stamped the sky, the trees, and the air. But it hadn’t touched the blue bicycle.
    â€œJust like that, you got a bicycle?” I said.
    â€œYes! My mom and dad got it for me yesterday!” Gloria hopped and did a little zigzag dance, the way she does when she’s happy.
    â€œSo,” I said, “in a couple years, when you know how to really ride it, you’re going to ride it a lot?”
    â€œJulian!” Gloria said. She knocked her braids back behind her head, the way she does when she gets serious. “I can ride it right now! You should have seen me! I rode up to your house three times. The first time, I was going to wave. But I was scared that if I waved, I would fall over. The second time, I was going to turn intoyour driveway. But I couldn’t make the turn. The third time, it was easy!”
    â€œGreat,” I said, as if it wasn’t really so great.
    â€œYes! I can ride a bike!” Gloria said. “My mom and dad taught me last night. Aren’t you going to congratulate me, Julian?”
    â€œOh, sure, congratulations,” I said.

    â€œYou don’t sound very enthusiastic, Julian,” Gloria said.
    â€œBut wait till you see mine!” Gloria said. She ran over to the bicycle on the grass and stood it up. It had fat tires and a bell, a silver arrow on the front, and red plastic streamers coming out of the handlebars. It was nice—if you like bicycles.
    â€œSee, Julian!” Gloria said. She rang the bell.
    â€œI can teach you to ride,” she said.
    â€œThanks, but no thanks,” I said.
    â€œYou don’t want to learn?”
    I wished Gloria could talk about something else besides stupid bicycles for a change.
    â€œSo,” Gloria said. “Answer me! Don’t you want to learn?”
    â€œNo, I don’t want to learn,” I said.
    â€œWell, okay, then. See you sometime. Goodbye,” Gloria said.
    The way she said good-bye didn’t sound usual. It sounded permanent.
    She turned her bicycle around and started pushing it out to the street.
    I got the opinion I might be losing my best friend.
    â€œGloria! Wait a minute! Stop!” I shouted.
    Gloria stopped, but she didn’t turn around.
    I ran in front of her.
    She looked as if she was crying. But I must have been wrong, because Gloria never cries.
    â€œSo?” Gloria said.
    â€œGloria,” I said, “listen! It’s just—” I thoughtof telling the truth: my opinion about bicycles. But if I did that, Gloria might think I was afraid of bicycles, which is not the truth at all. I am not afraid of lions. I am not afraid of tigers or dinosaurs. So how could I be afraid of a little thing like a bicycle?
    Just so Gloria wouldn’t get the wrong idea, I made something up.
    â€œIt’s just that there’s a lot to do around the house,” I said. “My dad has decided to make me work very hard all summer. So I won’t have time to learn to ride a bicycle. That’s all.”
    â€œOh!” Gloria said. Her smile came out all sudden and shining, like a rainbow after a storm. “I didn’t know that!”

    I could see that we were friends again. I could see that Gloria felt sorry for me.
    â€œYou won’t have any time off?” Gloria asked.
    I wondered what to say, yes or no. If I said I would have time off, then there would be time to learn to ride a bicycle. The best answer was no.

    â€œI’ll be working practically night and day,” I said. I tried to sound brave, as if I could take all the jobs Dad could give me and not complain.
    â€œI was