Spiralling into the Void

"Charlie!" Mum called from the intersection. "Use your brakes, love!"

Brakes? Charles looked at his feet, heart pounding. He'd never had to use brakes before; his old trike didn't even have any brakes. Was he supposed to pedal back fast? Or slow? A little bit, or all at once?

"Charles!" Mum yelled again, sounding scared. "Stop!"

Charles jammed his feet backward, fast and all at once. His tires squealed, and the colors of Gibbons Hill snapped to a stop. Too fast a stop. His stomach lurched as the force of the brakes threw him and his bike into the street.

Time slowed as he fell, like Quicksilver in the Fantastic Four comics. Mum's mouth moved, yelling something, but Charles could only hear his heart as he hit the ground. He and his bike skidded to the curb, almost hitting Mum in the legs.

"Are you alright, love?" she asked as she knelt down. "What's happened? What hurts?"

Rocks dug into Charles's hands as pushed himself off the ground. His knees were a mess and his elbows burned, but nothing seemed broken, at least. The same, however, couldn't be said for his bike. Its cherry-red paint was chipped and scraped right down the front of the frame.

"The bike!" he cried, grabbing its handlebars. "The bike got hurt!"

The bike was a brand new Schwinn model, one Dad had brought home as a gift a few days ago. Charles had been so excited to for a big kid's bike that he'd wanted to ride it right away. But now it was ruined! All because he didn't know how to use the brakes properly!

Mum reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of swabs. "Does anything hurt besides your knees?" she asked. "Your head? Your wrists?"

Charles shook his head, eyes stinging. "I don't think so."

"Then that's all that matters." Mum tore open one of the swab packets. It smelled sharp and clean, like a doctor's office. "The rest can be sorted out."

Charles's throat clenched. "B-but the bike—!"

"Don't worry about the bike, love. It's perfectly usable as is."

"But I ruined it!" Tears escaped, dripping down Charles's cheeks. "I was supposed to be careful and I wasn't!"

Mum put a hand on his cheek, thumbing the tears away. "Charlie, relax. It's only a bit of scratched paint. You'll still be able to ride it, I promise."

"But Dad's going to be mad!"

Silence fell as Mum went wide-eyed, sitting so still Charles thought time had slowed down again. He waited, sniffling, until her eyes started getting watery too.

"Mum?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

A couple tears fell down her cheek. Charles looked away, a pit in his stomach. He'd seen Mum get sad before, but he'd never seen her cry.

"Yes, love, I'm sorry," she said, voice stuffy. "Tell you what. Why don't we bandage those scrapes, then we can sort out a plan together?"

"Okay," Charles said. A plan sounded good. He and Mum came up with the best plans together, especially when they were hiding things from Dad.

"First, though, I have a very important question." Mum rustled through her purse and pulled out a box of Peanuts plasters. "Would you like Snoopy, or Woodstock?"

Charles scoffed. "I always want Snoopy, don't I?"

Mum chuckled, opening the box. "I know. I was was only making sure."

It took her time to clean the pavement crumbs from his knees, but once his cuts were clean and the plasters were in place, Mum pulled Charles into a big, warm hug. Charles smiled, melting into her arms. His bike was still busted, sure, but at least Mum had superpowers. She always made him feel better, no matter how much he hurt.

"I love you, beta," Mum said, kissing his head. "Very, very much."

"I know, Mum," Charles mumbled. "Love you too."

After one more squeeze, and an extra kiss on the head, Mum finally let Charles go and climbed to her feet.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked.

Charles's heart jumped in his chest. "Go where? Home?"

"Not yet," she said. "I thought we might nip round to Dayville's for an ice cream first, if you like. They have that new cookies n' cream flavor, don't they?"

Charles blinked, confused. "But it's Tuesday. Frosty Friday isn't until next week."

"Frosty Friday" was what Mum called their monthly trip to Charles's favorite ice cream shop. They used to go all the time, but last year, Dad got fed up and knocked them down to one day a month. It was Charles's favorite day; they never missed it, not for anything.

"I know, clever clogs," Mum said, pinching his cheek, "but there's a bicycle repair shop next to Dayville's. I thought after ice cream, we could pop in and get some paint. How does that sound?"

Oh. So this was Mum's plan! Charles tapped his chin, considering the idea.

"We could have Frosty Tuesday instead of Friday this month," he offered. "Just this once?"