Mom's prediction

I remember rocketing to the edge of the drop-off. I woke up with a cast from my left upper arm to my thumb. Dad was very relieved that my injuries weren't more serious and felt sure I'd be more cautious next time. Mom read both of us the riot act. She was correct to predict there wouldn't be a next time, although her wrath had little to do with it.

Mom liked Marco the moment she met him. She considered him a positive influence on her tearaway younger son. She pointed to his immaculate adherence to the highway code. I pointed to his upright posture on his bike, and to how much more easily he could execute proper hand signals. It was a bright yellow Raleigh Chopper. We all coveted it. Nobody I knew had ever seen anything like it before.