Pre-Onward One-Shots

Bike Ride Lesson

Chapter 7: Bike Ride Lesson

A/N: The long-awaited chapter is finally here! I'm super sorry this came out a little longer than expected, but school got in the way. This is the longest chapter so far, and I worked very hard on it. Enjoy! <3

Barley: 10

Ian: 7

Barley burst into Ian's room and keenly but considerately shook him awake. "Ian! Ian! Wake up, brother!"

Ian, who was hugging his stuffed teddy bear close to his body, woke suddenly with an unpleasant expression. "What time is it, Barley?" His speech slurred.

"It's time for me to teach you how to ride a bike!"

Ian frowned. "Oh, yeah. That..."

Barley climbed on the bed and wrapped an arm around Ian's shoulders. "Hey, what's wrong? Aren't you excited?"

Ian stared down at Teddy, not entirely sure how he should respond. He was aware that his training wheels had to be taken off his bike at some point, but that day just came by so fast. It seemed like he had just received his bike on Christmas morning, which happened three years ago. His mother and brother recently told him that he was pretty much ready to ride the bike all on his own without the support of the little wheels since he just turned seven not too long ago. But of course, they had to ensure that he was ready. With that, well...

"Just yesterday, you told me that you were ready," Barley said. "I asked you, 'Ian, are you really sure that you are ready to take your training wheels off?', and you said, with confidence, 'Yes, big brother! I am totally ready!' Now you look like you are tense about this."

Ian anxiously played with his bear's ear. "I know I said that yesterday, but now I'm not so sure. I thought I was ready; I was filled with confidence. That confidence is gone now."

Barley sympathized with his little brother. Riding a bike for the first time should be an exciting time in one's life. He wasn't particularly nervous when his mother taught him how to ride one at age six, mainly because the thought of gaining some independence was spectacular to him. Ian, though, was as shaky as maracas. He really felt bad for the poor boy; he didn't like seeing him nervous like this.

Rubbing Ian's back, Barley said with a soft tone, "Buddy, it's okay if you don't want to practice today. We can just wait until you get comfortable."

Ian bit his lip, having second thoughts. When he first got his blue bike with the training wheels attached, his mother told him that the wheels were given a special purpose: to help guide him until they needed to be off. They were there for the boy to practice being on a bike and assist him with the common skills for bike riders, like balancing and such. Ian took note that he was very attached to the training wheels. They made the young boy feel comfortable whenever he took bike strolls with Barley. There was no point in being scared if Ian didn't have to worry about maintaining balance or anything like that. Without them, he would feel completely insecure and lost; losing those two wheels would be like taking away his bike as a whole, and he loved riding it. Sometimes, Ian imagined himself falling off, something that nobody likes. Getting injured was a greater spook; Ian hated the awful feeling of that. For the past few years of having his little bike, Ian's wheels led him everywhere in the neighborhood. His attachment to them grew to where he felt like they were permanent.

But they couldn't be. Although Ian loved his training wheels to death, he had to practice riding on his own. Every child advances to the next step when they no longer need their training wheels, whether they are fast learners, like his older brother, or slow learners, like himself. He was training at his own pace, so it took quite a while to get adjusted to his blue bike, even with the two extra wheels on. Before the bike, he rode Barley's old tricycle, which he had outgrown. So, when Ian was old enough to have a big boy bike, his mother and brother helped him get accustomed to it. And every bit of it counted. He thanked them so much for getting him where he was today. The two made bike riding one of Ian's favorite activities. The training wheels weren't just regular old ones. They were special ones given by his mother. But like all training wheels, they weren't meant to last forever. What was the point of owning a bike if he didn't know how to ride it? Laurel once informed him that "every baby bird learns to fly," a wonderful, meaningful message that could imply anything, including Ian's situation. If every baby bird can learn to fly, every boy and girl can and certainly learn to properly handle a bicycle. Being a young beginner, Ian was put up to the challenge... nervously.