Present Perfect(5)

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.