Chapter 4

The strong crosswind could be felt buffeting the lightweight bicycle as well as her body. She noticed the mutual lean of it and herself against the force like and invisible hand trying to push over into the ground. Coming untethered out of the northwest, the vicious Midwestern wind flowed across Nebraska's flatlands like an unstoppable force as Shannon rode hard north of the city.

She was in farm country and alone, fighting the elements of wind as well as the cold of Fall and that felt good. The mental and physical effort of pushing herself hard was intimidating, at times, she knew from past experience, but that wasn't reason or challenging enough for doing this. It was simply something she could do well for she was only getting better at riding as time went on, and enjoying it all the more.

Shannon had no interest in bike racing or any kind of interactive organized sports with other people, but it simply was a wonderful high to use her body in a fun, challenging way.

How many people, girls mostly, had she known that didn't like to sweat because it was 'icky'? They would never know what wondrous things their bodies were capable of if pushed over every level they thought they were capable of, in their physical ability. It was no one's loss but theirs.

She didn't care to be around those kind of 'floater-type' individuals, but then, there was Terry, wasn't there? This new friend and about the only boy, ever, really, in her life. He was a bit of a nerd and a softy and yes, could very easily be classified as a 'floater', too, living and 'sponging', (his word), off his parents.

He was not a love interest and she was not attracted to him at all, in that kind of way she was certain, nor he in her, he'd told her nicely. He was gay, he claimed, and seemed to be though she never heard him speak about other guys or his love interests, other than his straight nerdy 'gamer' friends. But he certainly was the friend and male exception with Shannon, up to this point in her life. She had never had a close companion that was a boy or hardly any other kind of friend, for that matter. But they were buddies, so, she did things together with him, when he wasn't 'gaming' with his buds. That was it. Just friends.

He was two years older than her but pretty sharp witted, and smart, really, though unfocused. But Terry made her smile, something that had always been a bit foreign to Shannon. What they had in common, she wasn't quite sure, except that he was a bit effeminate, and that was fine with both of them, she supposed.

Her mind was wandering from the intensity of her 'push', and a windy gust of significant force that edged her closer to the side of the weed filled road which made her compensate by leaning more dramatically into the gale force wind. It was like going into a fast corner, in the city, leaning way over like that, and here she was, going straight and as true as she could manage but it was very hard to do, to keep up a fast clip going forward.

This wind reminded her so much of the wind that she had fought coming to Scottsbluff, in the first place. She had fought it hard and it had been directly in her face for five days straight. It probably gave rise to that unusual storm and the blue lighting that had given her that unusual power over physical things and making people do what she wanted them to. She just had to concentrate a little and think it through in her mind but she could make people forget her, forget what they'd done, like give her money, and basically, change matter on an atomic level, if she so desired. Fixing a shredded rain poncho, was her first experience, though she hadn't figured out how to use it yet to her advantage, and knew she had to be very careful. But she also knew it was there, if she needed it.

The other newly acquired skill, she'd recently noticed, was her ability to read peoples minds, to some degree. It also took some effort and concentration but it was something pretty cool to have under her belt, she found. There was no more guess work involving interactions with others. She knew exactly what each mind was thinking, their intentions and hidden meanings and/or agendas. But she avoided people, for the most part, and didn't get around much in social settings. So Terry was her only friend and he always seemed honest with her, and that was all she needed, for now.

After the first time she'd encountered her ability to 'read' people, though, Shannon had a slight melt down. The stress of getting money, or stealing it, the acquisition of her home, making the richest man in the county pay for it, and then forget about it, and the mind reading thing hit her hard. It was a bit too much for her seventeen years of experience to adjust to, even though she thought she had done well with the newly acquired powers there, for a while. She'd been under some self made pressure to, knowing her mother was alone, now. But it was a bit unfathomable at times for her to appreciate and or understand it all, even though she knew the reality of it could keep her very comfortable.

Fortunately, Terry was in her home after she'd come back from that rather hard run, which probably contributed to the meltdown, and had been there, thankfully, for her, emotionally. She'd never told him what, exactly, was wrong that caused her to come apart, and he didn't push her any for an explanation, which was greatly appreciated. He knew when to back off. She did say something concerning her running away from home, though, and that seemed to satisfy. That's why he was so good for her, she knew. He was there when she needed someone and with his girlish manner in speech, dress, and high-ish voice, he was the perfect male companion for her. Plus, he loved to shop.

Together, they had pretty much furnished her house in the past two weeks. He had excellent taste in furniture, she noted. It really looked like a house from Better Homes and Gardens magazine, now, inside. The outside was pretty much, plain lawn. But most importantly, he was her buddy, too, just like he had his nerdy male gamer 'buds'.

She thought briefly about her one hundred and ten pound free weights she'd recently bought, as she gripped the drop style handlebars of her bicycle. The weights had improved her strength, both lower and especially upper body power, while sliming her girl-layer of fat down, to some degree. She knew her jeans fit slightly looser for it. But those were simply strength exercises. She needed speed work with both arms and legs, torso, and reflexes. Sharon had always been in trouble growing up, especially in school, but she had never been a bully. She had fought bullies and teasers, but they never bullied or teased her again, except for 'Al the Alligator', when she was nine. Two years later, though, she showed him what fighting was all about. After that, he never picked on her again.

Besides the fairly modest weight training, Shannon bought a medium weight boxing bag, and other boxing stuff, and used it every night with slip on padded punching gloves. She liked hitting the thing and had no false imaginings of becoming a female boxer, but again, it just felt good to do it. She was pretty sure the workouts contributed to her weight remaining constant. She lost fat, but muscle being more dense, it helped her weight remain the same, slimmer than she'd been, and quite a bit more fit, causing her to feel good about herself. Terry had said a couple of nice things about her figure, so she was satisfied she was doing something positive.

Shannon reasserted herself and stood on the peddles and rose up out of the saddle. She got herself up to speed again and was moving fast once more.

The road was paved but narrow. When the dried weeds and grasses rubbed against one another, they crackled like a hiss on the air as she passed by, all the while struggling to maintain a fairly crisp clip, for the conditions. Her legs, she could tell, were really working hard and when she came to the end of the asphalt, she considered turning around there but kept going, making a dust trail behind her that blew off to the side. She travel on it for about two miles, she figured, going around a small hill, where it finally ended at a locked farmer's steel green-bar gate.

Shannon stopped and straddled the Firenze, her beloved twenty-three inch single speed, and drank some water from the water bottle. Her non padded riding tights felt tighter. She could feel the slight added pressure in her legs from the extra blood fed into them.

She started back and about a mile down the road, on the opposite side of it, she skidded to a halt. There was a bicycle frame in the weeds, down in the irrigation ditch. She laid the Firenze down and tugged on the old frame until it broke free of the grasses and weeds grown up around and through its various tubes. It was a frame, fork, handle bar, crank, and oxidized, chipped, red/orange paint. Who knew how long it had been there? She could only wonder.

"Look boy!" she muttered to the Firenze, cleaning the dry weeds away. "An old bicycle. Should we save it, too?" She had done the same thing to her metallic red Firenze, another discarded bike, but it had been in much better shape.

On the top frame tube Shannon could see the Schwinn name, still, and the scallops sweeping back from the steering tube. The Schwinn emblem badge was caked in mud and more than a little corroded on the front of the steering tube, but it was definitely that old bike company, before they had quit making them here in America. Before the firm had been sold. They were now made in China, she knew. She liked the looks of just the two upper frame bars, one above the other. It was very old school and knew it was a very old remnant of a once beautiful bike. She had no idea of the model, but there were visible serial numbers on the frame. She could look them up on the internet, at the library, to find it's year of manufacture. There was a real following for Schwinns because they had been stronger made than many other companies bikes and were manufactured in the same facility for so long.

It would have been awkward trying to carry the bike frame home, normally, but it was a chore and a half, Shannon quickly discovered, swearing at the difficulty of getting the other frame back in that atrocious wind. Several times she thought of leaving it by the roadside and coming back for it in her truck, but she got it home. Finally.

Pulling into her driveway, Shannon put the old frame in the truck bed, none too carefully, fed up with carrying it, and walked her Firenze into the house, cleaning the wheels off as she went, before going inside.

In one of the back rooms, where she had a newly purchased bicycle work stand, she leaned her bike up against the a table with the work vise and forgot about it. The room was her work shop and where the Firenze bike's maintenance was performed. She knew from past experience that the absolute worse thing you could do to ruin a bicycle, with all their little intricate parts, was to leave it outside in the weather.

There were a bunch of pictures from bicycle magazines and seller's brochures taped to and lining the walls of the home made shop. Dream bikes she liked but didn't want to buy. It was too easy, she knew from her hardback book collections, and her former bike collection in Minnesota, to clutter up a place, when you had too much desire and needed or wanted something, like bike parts. She'd get to that Schwinn frame, someday, and fix it up.

Shannon went to the kitchen and took three cold bottled waters out of the refrigerator then carried them to the living room and plopped down onto the long, brown, leather couch. Putting her feet up on the glass coffee table filled with books, magazines, and an empty pizza delivery box, it felt good to relax, at last. She and Terry had had ate the pizza the night before. No! She recalled, taking a long swallow of one of the room temperature bottles, from two nights ago.

She finished the first bottle of water and opened a second, untied and removed her shoes, then peeled away her sweaty socks, replacing her feet on the coffee table. She was staring at the wide living room window when she saw Terry crossing the lawn. He smiled, then waved quickly, like a girl, and knocked briefly before coming in, his usual sparkle and smile on his face. Shannon always loved seeing him, even when she was this tired.

It must have been a cold walk for him, though, for his nose was cherry red. He dressed so stupidly, she thought. It's as if he were in Jr. High. He never wears hardly anything warm for the weather outside.

Terry plopped down next to her on the wide leather sofa. She handed him a cold bottle of water, barely moving her wrist.

He looked at it kinda of funny. "Thanks," he said, "I think?"

"You're welcome," she said. "What's the matter. Afraid you'll get girl cuties?"

He didn't answer her last question. "I take it you've been out riding like a crazy woman, again, in this cold weather?"

"What gave it away?"

"You look like you've been rode hard and put away wet."

"Is that a horse compliment?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On if you're going to give me something warm to drink. What kind of a host are you? I'm freezing. I could use something other than cold water."

"It's wet," she said.

"Cold and wet doesn't get it in the winter. Not around here."

"Oh! You never told me that before."

"I thought you were smart."

"I'm brilliant," she mumbled, "and cute."

"We've gotta buy you a coffee maker."

"I don't drink coffee."

"I've noticed that about you. Why not?"

"It gives us something to talk about on cold afternoons."

They both started to crack up. They had grown to enjoy their little verbal ping-pong games.

When Terry and she finally quit laughing he took her hand and held it.

"Ooo, you're warm," he said and cradled it with his other hand for the radiating heat. "But seriously. You need to buy me a coffee maker."

"Why?"

"Because I'm cute. You said so, once."

"I'm cuter and I say no."

"Yeah, well, my feet are bigger!"

She paused, looking at his girlie sneakers and his big feet. "Okay."

"Really?"

"Yes. But you have to make it. That stuff plays havoc with your body."

"Sure it does. Look at me. I'm the picture of health. They've got posters of me all over town."

"Wanted for what?"

"Oh! You're good, aren't you?" They sat back, staring at the window and the occasional car going by, outside, both of them finally sipping water.

"How'd your big game you guys were gonna play, last night, turn out?" It was another one. Seems Terry and his friends had at least one a week.

"Our team won. Me and Ryan."

"That's nice."

"I'm hungry," he said.

"You're always hungry."

"Go shower and lets go get something to eat and then buy that coffee maker."

"Carry me to my bedroom, and I will."

"You're too fat."

"You're too wimpy."

"I can carry you, if I have to."

"Come on, lets see if you can do it."

"Uhhhh, I don't know."

"Come on 'game-boy', be a man."

Terry stood up and tried leaning over to pick her up, but couldn't. "You're going to have to stand up."

Shannon stood up, slowly, noticing how stiff she'd gotten just laying there, but bent her knees to help Terry out as he tried to lift her. He groaned. It was funny watching him strain to do it but he managed it.

"Wow! You're heavy."

She put her arms around his neck and said to his face, smiling like a child, "My knight in shining armor."

"Your knight with a hernia, you mean," and then his legs collapsed half way down the long hall to her bedroom. They fell in a twisted wreck of legs and gangly arms, laughing at each others entanglement.

Shannon got up and went into her room and started to sort through some clothes to wear. Terry followed her in, talking a mile a minute about the various kinds of coffee makers but thought the one they had at home, at his parents house, was the best and easiest to use.

Shannon took off her riding tights, standing there in her panties, and it was only when she was pulling her long sleeved riding tee over her head that Terry noticed what was going on. She hadn't felt overly self conscious about him being there, being such a girlie, himself, but she wondered how long he'd stay. She was going to strip right down and see how or if he reacted. She was that comfortable around him, which seemed odd to her. Maybe it was because she had never considered Terry a threat in any way to her and that she was so happy to have a friend of any kind. Whatever it was, she felt playful and bold.

"Oh!" he said, surprised, finally realizing she was undressing, and left the room, saying, "Sorry." She smiled at his concentration on other things and that shyness that finally slapped him in the face with lukewarm washcloth, so to speak.

Shannon came out a few minutes later with a new shirt on, plus, her shoes and heavy coat in hand. She sat down on the couch and slipped her socks on to her feet.

Terry came out of the kitchen eating a carrot he'd washed and trimmed. "Are you going to get me a TV someday, too?"

"No. I going to teach you how to read."

"I read."

"Gaming magazines and comics."

"You read comics."

"That's cause I'm cool."

"I read a Halo novel, the other week."

"You did?" she said, surprised.

"Yeah. It was pretty good."

"Good. Are you ready?"

"Yup!"

Shannon grabbed her truck keys from the ceramic bowl by the front door and went outside.

They got in the hot rod '51 Ford truck she'd bought, which Terry had taught her how to drive with its five speed/clutch combination, and backed out of the driveway. Shannon remembered that first day and their first meeting, and purposely gave it a little more gas than the truck needed, squealing the tires for fun, and sped away over smoking tires in the wake of their escape, just for the heck of it.

"That was great timing to find it on sale, like that, huh?" They had decided to buy the coffee maker before going to get something to eat. Terry was talking a mile a minute while leaving the store, carrying the coffee maker. But he was suddenly knocked backwards by a guy twice his size, who hit him shoulder to shoulder. Terry almost dropped the coffee maker, but held on, barely. Shannon was instantly on the alert and ready to fire off a fist or a few mental suggestions.

"Well, if it isn't the little school fagot," a particularly obnoxious, tall and muscular guy, a foot taller than Terry, smirked down at him, standing in an aggressive way.