One second I’m thinking about what to cook for tea, the next I’m flying through the air, what the…
Heh, heh, heh. Something was on my face, no not on, licking, I batted at whatever it was and made contact with something hairy, something…
“Fritzy, leave her alone!”
“You alright, Gab?” Mum’s voice enquired.
I peeled an eye open to find myself eyeball to eyeball with the errant pooch.
“Er I think so.”
“I’m so sorry, Frau Bond, Fritzy saw Gaby and just bolted,” Frau Holdorf fussed as she finally managed to drag the mutt off of me.
I eased myself upright, ooo, I’m gonna have some bruises in interesting places later. I looked over at my assailant, the look of confused innocence on Fritzy’s face was comical, I guess that’ll teach me about making a fuss of dogs.
“Are you alright dear?”
“Think I’ll live.”
“Can you stand?” Mum asked.
I tried, “ouch!”
“Stay there kiddo, can you stay with her, Frau Holdorf, I’ll get the car.”
“Of course, me and Fritzy’ll keep an eye on her.”
Mum took off leaving me in the care of a maniacal Dachshund and Dernau’s answer to Stern! I’m pretty sure nothings broken but it sure hurts when I move my left leg.
We were literally two minutes from home so it was no more than five minutes before my parents arrived in the Merc.
“Come on you,” Dad offered as he stooped to lift me up.
“Sorry.”
“For what, your Mum’s told me what happened, lets get you to the clinic.”
“I’ll take the bike home, ring me when you know what’s happening.” Mum told us.
By now I was sat across the back seat trying to get my leg in the least painful position I could.
An hour later I was propped up on a cot in casualty feeling quite sorry for myself, the adrenalin surge immediately after the tumble having been replaced by self pity and pain killers. Not only that but I’ve had to suffer the indignity of being stripped of my shorts, the nurse wanted to cut them off but at ninety euros a pop I insisted they were pulled off which did nothing for my pain receptors!
“So’, young lady,” a middle aged lady in a white coat started, “what have you been up to?”
“Would you believe a dog knocked me off my bike?”
“Your father says you can’t put weight on the leg?”
“Can’t even stand up.”
“Well the x-rays don’t show a break so it looks to be some sort of soft tissue damage, we’d best take a look eh?”
It wasn’t pretty, from groin to knee was already coming out in a corker of a bruise. The Doc carefully poked and prodded, moving my leg as far as my pain threshold would allow.
“Well I don’t think there’s any muscle damage, nothing’s torn as far as I can tell, I’m pretty sure that it’s just an impact trauma, a couple of day’s rest, no tight clothing for a few days and it’ll be right as rain.”
Just an impact trauma she says! From where I am it’s a major ouch.
“Kay, do I need to stay in hospital?”
“Oh I don’t think so, we’ll sort you out some painkillers then your dad can take you home.”
“Okay.”
“You didn’t have to go that far to get out of cooking,” Jules grinned as Dad plonked me on the sofa resplendent in my paper gown and knickers.
I blew her a raspberry in reply.
“Leave your sister alone,” Dad suggested.
“Aw, that’s not fair.”
“Fair or not that’s the deal.”
“So er, what is for dinner?” I queried quietly.
“You two hungry?” Mum queried from the door.
“Wouldn’t mind something, love,” Dad allowed.
“Don’t really need to ask you do I?”
“I’m a growing boy, well er girl.”
“Omelette okay?” she offered.
“It’ll fill a hole,” I grinned.
“Next thing I know the mutt’s licking my face.”
“Ew, gross!” Steff offered.
Whilst I wasn’t up to riding to school next morning I was deemed fit enough to hobble from the car, I can’t even score a day off after a crash!
“So what are you going as?” Nena queried.
“Dunno, hadn’t given it much thought.”
“It’s only a couple of weeks away Gab,” Brid mentioned.
“She could be the bike zombie,” Pia suggested waving her hands claw like in front of us.
“Sounds a bit lame to me,” Con put in, “lame, get it? Bruised leg?”
“We got it worst luck.” I said with a sigh.
“How about a Valkyrie, you could so do the Nordic goddess bit,” Nena put forward.
“She could take the souls of fallen battle hamsters to Walhalla,” Steff giggled.
“Hey, I am here, guys!”
“How about an undead elf? We’ve still got your outfit from Weihnachts.” Con added to the pot.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have a killer outfit in plenty of time.”
What I’ve no idea, it’s ages yet.
I still had a bit of a twinge on Friday but I was walking okay and even managed to ride to Silverberg but Garde was definitely out! Of course the bummer has been that on doctors orders I’ve not been able to wear anything restrictive so I’ve had to wear skirts all week – I draw the line at a dress.
“You gonna be alright for Sunday, kiddo?” Dad enquired.
“Sunday?”
“The sportive up at Dusseldorf, with Roni?”
“Dunno.”
“It would be useful before next week’s race,” he suggested.
“I guess, so how far is it?”
“Your event is only a hundred, pretty flat looking at the map. You can scratch if you want.”
“I’d never hear the end of it from Ron if I did.”
“I’ll confirm it with them then.”
“Suppose I should go to bed, work in the morning.”
“Night, kiddo.”
“Are you alright, Gaby?” Frau Holdorf enquired.
“A few bruises, I’ll live.”
“Fritzy, he’s such a naughty boy, once he makes his mind up there’s no stopping him.”
“So er, where is the little chap?”
“Outside, by the tree, see he’s over, Fritzy!”
The little bugger had slipped his collar and was already making good his escape, the pursuit of Frau Holdorf only hastening his departure.
Con was in hysterics; I was struggling to contain myself. He might’ve been the cause of some discomfort on my part this week but you can’t help being amused by him and his owner.
“You coming to Bonn this afternoon?” Con enquired after Frau Holdorf returned for her brotchen.
“Guess so, the others going?”
“Think so, I’ll ring round in a bit.”
I only had thirty minutes to get home, change and get back to the Bahnhof, still being a trouser free zone, at least for today, it shouldn’t be a long job.
“Where are you off to?” Jules queried.
“Bonn.”
“Bore-ing!”
“Some of us aren’t there every day,” I pointed out.
“So what’re you going for?”
“You know, looking at stuff, sugar I need to be outta here, the Express’ll be here in like ten minutes!”
I ran up to my eyrie, pretty much ripping my uniform off on the way. Hose off, denim skirt, where is it, there, vest top, grab a cardi, bag, where’s my purse? I grabbed fresh hose and rammed them in my bag before charging back downstairs.
“Shoes, you seen my shoes, Jules?”
“Which ones?”
“You know, my Skechers™.”
“In the corner?”
I found the missing footwear and slipped them on.
“I’ll never get there,” I moaned.
“Come on,” she sighed.
“Where?”
“I’ll give you a lift.”
We clattered out to her Mofa, so okay it’s not that quick but it’s faster than me walking.
Putt, putt, putt. We chugged through town, me riding sidesaddle behind my sister. I could see the Express coming down the line, Jules did too as she revved the bike to top speed, up the curb and then screeching to a halt at the barrier.
“Cheers, Jules!”
“Later.”
“Come on, Gabs!” Con yelled.
The zug hissed to a halt as I reached the platform, made it!
Maddy Bell © 31.10.2014
Comments
Something tells me...
Fritzy doesn't like Frau Holdorf any. Can't say as I blame the poor guy. He sure has taken a liking to Gaby though. Smart pooch there.
Abigail Drew.
90 Euros!
For that kind of money I can cut off the legs of a pair of Levis and still save money!
Gaby will wear a skirt but not a dress? That's a difference without meaning!
I went outside once. The graphics weren' that great.
Omega girl
Yeah you could on regular shorts.
Bicycle racing shorts are a whole nuther matter specially on a racing bicycle seat ... Those shorts have padding in key areas and fit is slightly different . 90 euro for top line clothing ... Well Drew/Gaby isn't the run of millb racer either ....when 100th of seconds count . you go for any advantage you can.
Felled by a dog
How did Fritzy cause Drew to bite the dust? Did Fritzy run into the wheel(s) or run in front of the bike? A Dachsund is what, a few inches from dragging its stomach on the ground? If Fritzy jumped at the side of the bike, that's one heck of a Dachsund, a Dachsund able to hit a moving target with ease.
How many road rash scars does Drew possess? Counting the previous two in this story, her meeting with Fritzy now makes three crash and burns, each leaving lasting impressions for a few days.
Drew has never been taught to be organized, has she? She throws things here and there, leaves things just lying here and there. And when time is short, she's running around looking for the items she wants or needs thereby wasting more time. For a person where time during a race can mean a gong or not, her off race life is a mess when it comes to saving time.
The Halloween party is two weeks away and Drew thinks that's ages? If she does as she's done for previous costume parties, she wait until a few days before the party to make her costume. And she'll be in panic mode.
How many balls is Drew trying to juggle at one time? What would happen if she only had to deal with school and racing? Would she be better organized if she only had those two activities to deal with? If time with friends was cut she wouldn't be rushing around as much trying to get to their transportation. Maybe Drew isn't mature enough to handle as much freedom as she's given? Maybe her desire to be with others causes her to lose sight of the things she has to do? Maybe she needs to visit a counselor in order to find out why Drew is easily distracted? Or has trouble paying attention to what's going on around her. If she is as disorganized as she is at fifteen, what will she be like as an adult?
Others have feelings too.
Maybe Drew/Gaby
Is a typical teen? I'm over the hill but I still remember my teens. Disorganized, messy, procrastenator, those were all pretty common traits for a teen. I was that way as a teen, and so were my friends. Oh, there were a few that had their shit together, but they were the exceptions, an abberation if you will. Some of us never outgrew it, some did. My workspace was all straight and organized; but my personal life much less so. The description of Gabs rings true to me.
"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin