Soon we reached our destination, and I informed her about this fact.
She asked, "Are you sure, Sophia?"
I said, "Of course."
She wanted to speak but couldn't find the right words. Her reaction wasn't strange, since we were standing at the top of a steep slope road.
To stop her from overthinking the situation, I asked her to close her eyes. She did it hesitantly. But now that I think about it, she looked even more worried after closing them. Then I freewheeled my bike from there.
She screamed in horror, "Hey! Sophia, stop! I don't want to die young from a heart attack!"
I chuckled at her response and told her to open her eyes and take a deep breath. When she opened them, she was amazed by the sight in front of us. There was a lake ahead, adorned with small flowers, and seagulls were bathing leisurely.
I turned my head backward. "How are you feeling now?" I asked. But she didn't say anything. She just looked toward the lake, completely absorbed in the view. The gentle breeze brushed against our faces, and her long hair swayed like a golden curtain. She was smiling like a child who had just seen the world for the first time.
I was once again captivated by her pure smile, and a strange emotion filled my heart. I didn't know what that emotion was, and I didn't have time to figure it out. Because soon Lucy shouted and pointed ahead in terror, "Sophia, quickly look ahead, a—"
I followed her gaze and froze. A kitten was standing right in front of my bike. I turned the handlebars sharply and hit the brakes.
A high creaking sound echoed as the bike crashed into a pole. The force almost flipped us over, but at the last moment, Lucy steadied it by putting her feet down.
We both sat in shock, our hearts pounding. Yet the kitten, whose life had been in danger moments ago, stood there meowing proudly—"Meow, meow, meowww…"—as if mocking me.
Lucy recovered first and said in a sarcastic tone, "I didn't think my first adventure with you would be so thrilling that I'd almost lose my life."
I had expected that reaction, yet despair still filled my heart. My voice turned hoarse as I tried to apologize. "Sorry, Lucy, I didn't mean to do that… sorry."
She stared at me with an unreadable expression. "I don't want your apology," she said, pausing before breaking into a smile. "I want a popsicle."
My eyes widened in shock. I realized that now—and probably forever—I would never be able to guess her true thoughts. I smiled weakly and agreed to her request, though fear still lingered in my heart—the fear of losing a new friend.
She quickly added, "Popsicles can be eaten later, but if I don't reach home on time, my mom will eat me."
I laughed and realized she was different—nothing like my old acquaintances.
"I can't allow someone to eat you," I said playfully. "Hold tight around my waist."
In an exaggerated tone, she replied, "Please, my paddler, do that!"
A few minutes later, we reached our final stop—the bus station. She carefully placed her feet on the ground; I thought she was afraid of falling.
She walked a few steps ahead and waved back. "We'll meet again soon. Don't forget your promise!" she shouted.
Then she tripped. I rushed forward and caught her by the waist before she could fall. She thanked me, and I reminded her to be careful. She nodded and walked toward the arriving bus. Passengers swarmed in like a flood of insects.
Then I noticed her swollen foot. My mind raced. I realized she'd been hurt while protecting both of us. My chest tightened, and without thinking, I ran toward her.
"Please, stop!" I called out.
She turned, startled, her eyes wide with pain and confusion. Realizing how sudden I'd sounded, I loosened my grip on her arm.
"Can you sit for a while on the backseat of the bike?" I asked hesitantly.
She looked puzzled, but before she could answer, I instinctively lifted her by the waist and placed her on the bike.
Her eyes widened. "Put me down, Sophia, right now!" she shouted, her face flushed red.
"I'm sorry," I muttered quickly, helping her settle in.
"Hey! What are you doing? Why did you lift me up? Do you know how that looked?" she snapped, flustered.
"Please, stop moving and let me treat your wound," I said softly.
She sighed, then blurted, "Sophia, you're not in a position to say that."
I apologized again, and she finally calmed down.
I took out my first aid kit, sprayed medicine on her foot, and wrapped it in a bandage.
"Where the hell did this med kit come from?" she asked.
"I always carry it," I replied, standing up. "I get injured often."
"Then you're even more careless than me," she said with a faint smile. Her anger had completely faded now.
When I tried to lift her again, she immediately warned, "Don't even think about it, Sophia. I can move by myself."
I stopped, noticing her flustered face. "Then at least let me help you," I said gently.
She agreed, and I supported her with my arm.
The bus was already there. "Hurry up, or I'll miss it," she said.
I quickened my pace, putting most of her weight on me until we reached the bus. I helped her climb the stairs, but she refused any more assistance. I understood—anyone would feel embarrassed.
I waved goodbye, turning back toward my bike, when I heard her whisper near my ear, "I'll be going to your school."
Before I could react, she stepped onto the bus, offering no explanation. I tried to follow, but the bus had already pulled away.
I stood alone at the deserted stop for a moment, then decided to go home.
As I rode through the silent streets, the day's events replayed in my mind—the slope, the crash, the kitten, and Lucy's laughter. Her last words echoed, "I'll be going to your school."
I couldn't tell if she was serious or teasing, but the thought made me smile. She was probably running home by now, still scolding me in her usual way.
I didn't know what would happen next, but I was sure things wouldn't be the same anymore.