New And Old Friends

• Grace Robinson, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2021

His hands brush against my strong and new body as I leave the old and dusty shop. My new friend. He picks me up and carries me outside. The sky is a brilliant blue and the clouds float along the above in large lumps. The grass is as green as the paint on the outside of the shop that I have been sitting in for years. He takes me places for years, and I enjoy it very much until I am tossed out on the street added to a big hunk of unwanted belongings. He is now my old friend.
Her eyes glare at my rusting body as she begs a man for me. He nods his head as he picks me up. My new friend. She sits on my back and moves my pedals as the light grey sky shines little light on us. The clouds don’t look as white as they are supposed to, and the grass is more yellow than green. We ride on together for weeks until on Christmas day her mother buys her a new, pink bike. I watch my friend walk away as she leaves the secondhand shop. She is my old friend.
Years and years go by sitting in that secondhand shop until somebody walks past the newer looking bikes straight to me. My new friend. “I want this one,” he demands. “It looks cool.” He takes me outside to where the sky doesn’t provide any light, and the clouds can’t be seen over the patches of smoke. I squeak as he takes me to his car. Suddenly he turns around and takes me back to the shop. “I have changed my mind,” he says grabbing a newer fuchsia bike. He is one of my old friends.
I look down at myself two years later and think about how nobody will want to purchase me. I am lying flat on my back underneath another bike as I watch a little boy walk in with his father. “I want Aaron to have a red bike for his birthday, but I want it to look old because I don’t want to spoil him.” I look again at my red body and feel a hint of hope. He searches for a while and finds me. My new friend.
I can’t see a thing because I am covered in paper, and I can feel it being ripped off me. As I am finally being exposed. I see an excited boy picking me up.
“This is amazing!” he exclaimed. He rides me all the time from then on until he is a man. He wraps me up and later he presents me to his son.
The boy’s eyes widen as they push me towards him. Although I am the rustiest, broken-down bike to ever live, he still loves me. Although the sky is no longer picturesque, and you can’t see the clouds, I love riding with Aaron’s son. He is my forever friend.