Back at Estrella’s garage, Bicycle crossed her fingers and stepped inside. Estrella was bent over the workbench, her chin resting on one hand. Bicycle came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. “Holy spokes,” she said, stunned.
Clunk looked as good as new. Better, in fact. The frame was shinier than it had ever been, gleaming like it was under a spotlight. The bike lay on the workbench like a polished work of art. “Estrella! This is incredible! How can I ever thank you?” Bicycle’s flutter of hope had turned into a flying bird, soaring through her with happiness.
Estrella, however, wasn’t celebrating. Her face was grim.
Bicycle felt the flying bird soaring through her turn into a frightened, fluttering thing once more. “Is it…did you…could there…” She couldn’t ask the question, because she was afraid of the answer.
Estrella waved her closer and took her hand. “Honey, this is something I never like to tell anyone. Your bike, it may look good, but…” She shook her head. “You’re never going to ride it again. I was able to fluff out the frame so it would have the right shape, but it’s weakened here”—she pointed—“here, here, and right through here. In fact, I strongly suspect it was getting toward the end of its riding life before it got to Green Marsh. This is an old, old bike, sweetheart. All it’s ever going to be is a pretty shape to look at. I am so sorry.”
Bicycle stared at the frame in disbelief. It looked perfect. “Are you sure? How can you be sure?”
Estrella rummaged through her tools and came up with a stethoscope. “Here, give a listen. Best way to tell if a bike is safe to ride or not is to listen to its frequency.”
Bicycle put the stethoscope in her ears, and Estrella placed it against Clunk’s frame, which she then tapped with a screwdriver.
“Hear that? That’s weakness in the steel.”
Bicycle heard a twang and then a hum in her ears.
“And listen here,” Estrella said, moving the stethoscope to another part of the frame and tapping it again.
Another twang and hum.
“And even here.” Estrella put the stethoscope up near the handlebars and tapped once more.
A twang, a hum, and Bicycle heard something else. Distant, like it was coming from several miles away.
“Sun so hot, I froze to death, Susanna don’t you cry…”
“Griffin!” she shouted with joy, dropping the stethoscope and hugging the frame. “You’re back!”
Estrella raised her eyebrows. “You hear the ghost?” She took the stethoscope and listened for herself. “Hmmm, I hear him, too. He’s got a good singing voice.”
Bicycle kept hugging the bike frame with one arm and turned and hugged Estrella with the other.
Estrella blushed but hugged back. “Shucks, woulda done it for any bike, haunted by a ghost or no.” She finally disengaged from the hug. “Now, now, don’t squeeze it too hard, it needs some time to rest before the frame’s as strong as it’s gonna get. I’m keepin’ it here overnight, but you can take it in the morning, don’t worry.” She covered the frame with the blanket.
Estrella brushed aside Bicycle’s thanks and offer of payment as they walked out of the shop together.
Jeremiah rolled down his van window and looked distrustfully at Estrella and questioningly at Bicycle. He saw Bicycle’s happy face and asked, “All fixed up, then?”
Bicycle struggled with a funny feeling—a combination of disappointment over the terrible luck that she was never going to ride Clunk again, and elation over the terrific luck that Griffin was back. “Not exactly,” she answered. “The bike looks normal, but Estrella says I can’t ride it anymore. But Griffin—he’s awake! He’s still in there! He just needs to rest. I’m going to see him in the morning.” Knowing Griffin had made it home—that seemed to mean more to her than anything. So this is what it’s like to help out a friend, she thought.
Jeremiah took the information in stride. “Well, sometimes half-good news is good enough. Let’s head home.”
Estrella said, “She’s had a hard enough time, I reckon, without havin’ to sleep near the poison-fried-pie experiment laboratory you call a kitchen. She’ll stay here with me tonight and have some proper food.” She turned her back on Jeremiah.
“Hmph,” Jeremiah said. He asked Bicycle, “That what you want to do? Stay here tonight?”
Bicycle didn’t want to choose sides in any family feud, but she did want to stick around while Griffin recovered. “Yes, if that’s okay with you.”
“Anything you want to do is okay with me,” he said. “Guess I should go get your backpack and bring it here so you have your stuff.” He hesitated. He seemed torn between wanting to help Bicycle and not wanting to return to Estrella’s house any more than absolutely necessary.
“No need,” Estrella announced without turning around. “You think I can’t take care of a guest? I got great-grandkids who visit. I’m stocked up with spare toothbrushes and pajamas, and I got the best dinner planned—ham steaks and pork ribs.”
Bicycle smiled at Jeremiah to show she’d be fine for the night, and he nodded ruefully back, turning the key in his engine.
“I’ll be back in the morning to check on you,” he said to Bicycle. To Estrella, he added, “You do your best to show that girl some kindness, or you’ll get an earful from me.”
“I’m kind as the day is long,” Estrella retorted, leading Bicycle toward the big, rambling house.
“Well, don’t feed her too much pig meat—that stuff’ll kill you!” Jeremiah shouted as he started down the driveway.
“I’m ninety-one and ain’t got no complaints!” Estrella shouted back. She opened her front door. “Land sakes, that ol’ man.”
Bicycle and Estrella had dinner together, eating plates of ham, ribs, pickled pig’s feet, and bacon. Estrella asked her about how she came to be in Green Marsh, and Bicycle told her the shortest version of the story that explained it all.
Estrella was impressed. “You know, when I was your age, I biked clear across Missouri—one of the best things I ever did. Good to know that youngsters still go on bicycle adventures in this day and age, what with video games and technopads and whatnot. When I wasn’t learning the pig-raisin’ trade as a teenager, the biggest favor my folks did for me was letting me mess around with tools and bikes out in that garage. I’m lucky to have a hobby that’s so satisfyin’ and useful.”
Bicycle swallowed a bite of ham and asked a question that had been in the back of her mind. “Estrella, why are you mad at Jeremiah? He told me that his great-grandfather’s pie business was nearly ruined by your great-grandfather’s pigs, so I sort of understand why he holds a grudge. Why do you?”
“That man!” she said. “I’ll tell you why I hold a grudge. I tried to make peace with him once. I brought over a nice pork-skin pie that I baked myself, thinkin’ we could put our great-grandfathers’ follies behind us and start again. At the least, we could be civil.” She chewed angrily on another slice of bacon. “But that durned Jeremiah! I gave him my pork pie, and he threw it on the ground! Rudest thing I ever did see! I told him he was a dunderheaded lummox and stormed off. Haven’t had a polite word between us since then. It’s been”—she squinted and counted on her fingers—“seventy years now.”
Bicycle asked, “He threw it on the ground?” Doing anything with a pie except frying it and eating it didn’t sound much like Jeremiah. “Maybe he was upset because he thought you were trying to take over his pie business.” She yawned. “Maybe you could try talking to him again someday, try to mend things one more time.”
Estrella stood up from the table. “Mebbe someday,” she said grudgingly. “After I turn a hunnert years old, mebbe I’ll be more forgivin’.” She took Bicycle upstairs and showed her to the spare bedroom. “You can sleep here. I reckon it’s been a long day for you. You need me, come look in the garage. I’m going to sleep out there on my cot in case the bike or the ghost needs somethin’.”
Estrella headed downstairs, and Bicycle climbed into bed.
Bicycle was up at dawn, too impatient to stay asleep. She splashed some water on her face and went straight into the garage. Estrella was snoring on a cot in the corner and didn’t wake up when Bicycle came in and removed the blanket from the bicycle frame on the workbench.
“Griffin?” she whispered.
The response was immediate. “Hey, Bicycle, where’ve you been? I’ve been stuck here on my side, thinking you’d forgotten to take me with you or something. That lady over there’s been snoring all night, way worse than you do.”
“I do not snore!” Bicycle said, and then immediately giggled as relief washed over her. “No, I’d never forget you, Griffin. You can count on that. The town was having their annual Parade of Pigs—it started after you left—so more than eight hundred pigs ran over you and Clunk, and I think you passed out. Then Estrella over there found a way to wake you up. She also fixed Clunk’s frame, but the bike isn’t safe to ride anymore.”
“Whoa. Then how are you going to get to San Francisco?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Bicycle said. She’d been so focused on getting Griffin back, she hadn’t thought about herself.
“Well, how about the pie shop? Did you find out if Joe ever started frying pies?” Griffin said.
“Yes, he did. Joe’s great-grandson Jeremiah runs the shop now, and I’ve eaten about forty fried pies already,” Bicycle said, ready to list the flavors.
Before she could start, Jeremiah’s van pulled up in the driveway outside.
“I’ll tell you later,” Bicycle said as Jeremiah shuffled in and whistled when he saw the bike frame.
“My oh my, I almost hate to admit it, but Estrella did a fine job on that bike,” Jeremiah said. “You say it won’t ride? It looks pert’ near perfect, shiny as a new penny.”
Griffin piped up from the handlebars, “Thanks!”
Jeremiah started. “That the ghost?” he asked Bicycle in a low voice.
She nodded.
Jeremiah cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter. “Er…greetings to you, Griffin the Ghost. I’m Jeremiah Branch. Bicycle tells me you were a friend of my great-grandpa’s, and any friend of his is certainly a friend of mine.”
Bicycle lifted the bike frame down and set it on the ground, facing upright. Griffin announced, “Jeremiah, I sure am glad to meet you and happy to be home again. I hope I can come help you out at the pie shop. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I met Bicycle.”
Jeremiah took one handlebar in his hand and wiggled it in greeting. “It would be my pleasure to have you in my shop. Now, are you in that bicycle for good, or you plannin’ on hauntin’ my pie plates, or what?”
Griffin made a grunting sound like he was trying to lift something heavy. “You know, I don’t have a clue how to get out of here. When Bicycle found me, I decided kinda on a whim to haunt her bike, and it was easy. Now that that lady over there fixed up the frame, I’m feeling more locked in somehow than I was before.”
Jeremiah waggled his head. “Well, Estrella does do a decent job fixing bikes. I wouldn’t be surprised if she fixed you in there real tight. She don’t do nothin’ halfway. I’ve always admired that about her. When we were much younger, I admired her a great deal, in fact.”
The little trio was so intent on their conversation that they hadn’t noticed the snoring had stopped.
A sour voice piped up behind them. “You admired me so much that when I came to your shop to make amends with you, you threw my pork-skin pie right on the ground? That don’t strike me as any kind of admiration.”
They turned to see Estrella standing behind them.
Jeremiah’s blush rippled through every one of his wrinkles. “Shucks, Estrella, I was so nervous that a beautiful woman was giving me a pie, I dropped it. I was all thumbs when I was a youngster. Then you called me a big dunderheaded lummox and ran off, so I thought maybe you gave me the pie to show me you didn’t need me and my pie shop. Thought you was bein’ mean.”
Her face softened. “Well, don’t that beat all! For seventy years, I ain’t talked to you for throwing my pie in anger, which you didn’t do, and you ain’t talked to me since I gave you a mean-spirited gift, which I didn’t do. Jeremiah, we been such fools as that all that time?”
Jeremiah, still a bright shade of pink, shuffled his feet. “Seems so.”
Bicycle looked from one wrinkled face to another and decided to leave them alone in the garage for a while. She wheeled the bike out into the sunshine.
“Griffin,” she said, “what am I going to do without Clunk? Is this the universe telling me I should stop now and give up? That I should call Sister Wanda and tell her I made friends with a ghost, and hope that’s enough to get me out of being sent to any friendship-making camp?” She scuffed a toe at the ground. The idea of going back made her feel disappointed and low. And the idea of pressing onward without Clunk and Griffin was overwhelming.
Griffin whistled a few wistful notes. “Bicycle, I was so excited to be coming home, I never thought about us parting ways. Maybe you could stay a while, fry pies with me and Jeremiah? I know! We’ll park Clunk next to the deep fryer, and I’ll tell you how to mix up the pie fillings. Then we could mail special pies to Zbig, the bicycle racer fella, spelling out different messages in pie dough to convince him to come visit us, or we could…Wait—if you stay here with us, that’s giving up on your own adventure,” he said. “You’d be the one with unfinished business then. Nope, nope, that won’t do. If you stayed here, you’d always wonder whether Zbig mighta been the best friend you ever could have. You’ve got to keep going. And then you’ll come back and tell us about what you saw and how amazing it is! You never know what’s around the next corner, or across the next state line, right?”
“That’s for sure.” Bicycle thought about it. “I remember what the Top Monk once told me: ‘Always finish what you start.’ At least, I think that’s what he told me. He said ‘Sandwich,’ but I’m pretty sure that’s what he meant. And Zbig really does seem like the perfect person for me to have as a friend. Nobody’s happier on a bike than he is.” She envisioned Zbig waving to a cheering crowd.
“’Cept maybe you,” Griffin added. “You just haven’t had a chance to ride as many places as him yet. If you get out to California, and you win that contest to ride with him, well, you’re bound to end up as happy as a ghost in a fried-pie shop.”
Bicycle thought, Probably the first time anyone in the world has used that expression. “I do know if I go home now, I wouldn’t be even close to finishing what I started. The reason I ran away from the Friendship Factory bus was to prove to Sister Wanda that I could make my own kind of friend my own kind of way. And now I’ve got you. But I think I’ve got to prove I can make a friend on purpose, or Sister Wanda will just send me off again.” Bicycle shivered, thinking about it. “Whatever lies between me and California has to be better than that. So I guess that’s my answer. I’ll figure out a way to keep heading west.” She patted the handlebars. “I’ll miss you, Griffin. You were the best traveling partner, dog trainer, and singing accompaniment to hill climbing a girl could ever ask for. And I pinky-promise to come back and visit as soon as I can.” She wrapped her pinky around the bike’s brake cable and squeezed.
Jeremiah and Estrella came out of the garage. It sounded like they might be arguing about something again, and Estrella was poking Jeremiah in the arm with one tiny finger. But then they proposed that Bicycle stay the summer in Green Marsh.
Estrella said, “We’ll call that Sister Wanda of yours and clear it with her. You could help fix bikes—”
“And fry pies,” Jeremiah interjected.
“And raise pigs. What more does a girl want out of life?” Estrella finished.
“Oh no! I mean, thanks anyway, but Sister Wanda doesn’t change her mind very easily,” Bicycle said. “If we called her now, she’d have me locked in the Friendship Factory in no time at all. She’d probably chain my ankle to three other kids. Maybe even chain herself to my ankle, too. This is the only chance I’ll ever have to try to make friends with Zbig and prove I can do this my own way. There’s no going back now.”
“Sounds like you don’t change your mind very easily yourself,” said Estrella. “Sounds like you’re determined to see this thing through.”
“You don’t know anything about stubbornness like that now, do you, Estrella?” asked Jeremiah.
“You’re one to talk!” Estrella said.
They looked at each other, and Bicycle held her breath. Then they brayed laughter, and Bicycle exhaled in a big whoosh.
“All right. Well, as one stubborn mule to another, here’s what I can do to help you on your way,” Estrella said. “My grandnephew’s driving a pig delivery truck to Midway Station, Kansas, in a few hours. You’re welcome to ride with him, and that’ll get you down the road a piece. I’ve got a secondhand bike—it’s been hanging around my workshop ever since I repaired it, but the owner never paid her bill. Should be a good fit for you, plus it’s got one of those adjustable seat posts. I’ll have my nephew stick that bike in the back of the truck for you, so once you get to Midway Station you can start pedaling on your way again. Better a neglected bike goes with you than ends up collecting more dust in my garage.” Estrella brushed her hands together twice and walked toward her front door, saying over her shoulder, “That’s settled, then. I’ll go call my nephew and tell him to come meet us at Paradise Pies after he loads up the truck. I’m so glad to help you out, child.”
“Thanks,” Bicycle said, a little nervous about getting a lift on four wheels instead of two. Somehow driving seemed like cheating, but after two days in Green Marsh, she was seriously behind schedule. Accepting Estrella’s generous offer seemed like the best thing to do, especially since no better plan was presenting itself.
“If she gets you a ride, then I can get you pied,” Jeremiah said. “Hee! Get it? Pied? I’m gonna fill up that backpack of yours with some of them tapioca-muffin ones, plus whatever else you want. You need some money, too?”
“Pies will be great,” Bicycle said. She still had some money left, plus her Free Eats card, so she thought she was in good shape. “Sister Wanda always says, ‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be,’ and I think she means I shouldn’t use anyone else’s money if I can help it. But I will take a postcard if you have one to send to her and the monks.”
Jeremiah said, “Let’s head to the shop and I’ll see what I can find. I’ve got your backpack and helmet ready for you there, and I invited Estrella to join us for lunch.” He helped Bicycle load Clunk in the van, and when Estrella came back out of her house, the three of them squeezed into the front seat.
Back at Paradise Pies, Griffin tried un-haunting the bike one more time, but he seemed good and stuck.
Estrella said, “I don’t know much about ghosts, but I made sure every little piece of that bike was screwed in, tightened down, and firmly in place. I do think you are permanently in there, Mr. Griffin.”
Griffin didn’t mind much. He’d gotten to appreciate how the metal of the frame echoed with his singing voice.
Before starting lunch (a chicken pot pie, baked this time, not fried), Jeremiah hunted up a postcard from the Marsh County Rolling Pin Museum. Bicycle wrote it out and asked him to put it with tomorrow’s outgoing mail.
Green Marsh, Missouri
Dear Sister Wanda and Mostly Silent Monks,
It turns out I made a friend but it wasn’t like I thought it would be. It sort of snuck up on me while I wasn’t paying attention. But it shows that I’m on the right track.
We should come visit here during fried-pie season, which I learned is any day of the year that doesn’t have a Parade of Pigs.
Bicycle
After they ate, Bicycle wheeled Clunk out front. Jeremiah set up a stepladder next to the Paradise Pies shop door and asked a strong neighbor to give them a hand. The neighbor climbed up the ladder to the portico over the door, and Jeremiah and Bicycle lifted Clunk up to him so he could mount the bike atop the portico. Jeremiah called up to Griffin, “How’s that?”
Griffin hollered down. “The view is great!” A family was walking past on the sidewalk and Griffin sang out to them, “Hey there, folks, you should come on in and try some fried pies! They’ll make you happy today and live longer tomorrow!” They stopped in their tracks, gawking at the talking bicycle. “What’s on the menu today, Jeremiah?” asked Griffin.
“Oh, we’ve got peach, and apple. We got some real good blackberries in, too—I could whip up a few of those. Or you could try some of our new experimental flavors—chicken noodle or mashed potato.”
Griffin started singing a silly song about a magical fried pie that saves the world, and the family headed into the shop, chuckling with delight at the singing bicycle. Another couple went in shortly afterward. A whole troop of Boy Scouts was coming over to see what the fuss was all about when the Marquez Pigs delivery truck pulled up next to the sidewalk.
Estrella came out of the shop with Bicycle’s backpack and helmet, and she helped Bicycle climb up into the passenger’s seat. She gave her grandnephew strict instructions to take good care of the girl all the way to Kansas, talking loudly to be heard over the sound of pigs snuffling and groinking from the cargo container.
Jeremiah and Estrella both waved good-bye as the truck started to pull away, saying, “Don’t forget us!” and “Come back soon!”
Bicycle yelled back, “Invent some really good fried pies. I’ll be back to eat some of them when I can!”
Griffin called out, “Take care, Bicycle! Don’t let any more pigs run over you!”
The truck started down the street, and Bicycle craned her neck out the window. The Paradise Pies shop crowned by a singing, talking bicycle was starting to draw a crowd. That place might actually be on its way to becoming world-famous, she thought. She waved a final good-bye, sorry to leave the town of Green Marsh behind her.