Riding the Universe by Gaby Triana

brat, like this one girl Rock was seeing who he kept complaining about. She was never happy with anything. After a while, I finally asked him, “If you’re so annoyed with her, why are you still hooking up with her?”
    To which he answered, “Because of the sex,” scoffing at me like it was the dumbest question he’d ever heard.
    Then the horror of that idea stops me. Is that why Gordon’s here? Did he incorrectly read my intentions for inviting him? I look over. Gordon seems to be in a state of near slumber, a state I’ve been in many a time here at the Murphys’ dock, so I seriously doubt he is pursuing sexual favors.
    â€œWhy do you ride a motorcycle?” he says suddenly. So much for the slumber theory.
    â€œMy uncle gave it to me.”
    â€œHe gave you a motorcycle? What is he, crazy?”
    â€œHe’s dead.”
    â€œOh. Sorry, I didn’t know.” A moment goes by where neither of us says anything.
    â€œHe died of leukemia. Last summer.” My words are like little boomerang darts that shoot out, then turn around and stab me.
    â€œWhat kind?”
    â€œAcute myelogenous.” Two words I’ll never forget. “He slipped into a coma for two weeks, and then died.”
    â€œSorry, Chloé.” He shakes his head.
    â€œNo one is sorrier than me, believe me. We were really close, and we built that bike from the ground up. It took us a whole year.”
    â€œAhh,” he says. “I get it now.”
    â€œHe was my adoptive mom’s brother,” I add.
    â€œYou’re adopted?”
    I nod.
    He seems taken aback. “What’s that like?”
    â€œWell, I was only a few weeks old when they adopted me, and I grew up knowing this, so I won’t find out my life was a lie at thirty.”
    â€œWhich is good.”
    â€œWhich is good,” I repeat, watching the clouds move in swiftly. “I never really gave it much thought before, but lately, I’ve been wondering about my birth parents more. What they’re like, why they left me, who I look like, all that stuff. Not that knowing those things will change anything—I mean, I love my adoptive parents, nothing will ever change that.”
    â€œI don’t blame you for wondering. I would too. Just natural, I guess.”
    â€œI guess,” I say, happy that someone can sympathize. Somehow, it makes this easier.
    â€œI’m sure they had good reasons, though—your birth parents.”
    â€œWell, that’s what I’ve always told myself. But still, I justwant answers, so I can stop thinking about it so much. Does that make sense?”
    He nods slowly. “That it does. Tough stuff. But you’re pretty smart to handle it that way.”
    I try not to smile too much, lest he think I’ve never heard anybody call me smart before. I don’t know why his words send me reeling, but they do. Validation coming from a guy like Gordon can do weird things to a girl. “Thanks.”
    He clears his throat. “But about the bike…aren’t you afraid of becoming roadkill?”
    I turn on my side to face him, propping my head on my hand. “That is so typical.”
    â€œOf what?”
    â€œOf people who’ve never ridden a motorcycle.”
    â€œHow do you know I’ve never ridden one?” I know he can’t be serious. He is so bluffing, it’s not even funny.
    I close my eyes, and the combination of heat and swamp noises starts to lull me. “You haven’t, or you wouldn’t be asking me that question. Are you judging me again, Gordon?”
    â€œNo, I’m only asking because you don’t seem like someone who wouldn’t care about possibly getting killed in an accident. You seem conscientious.”
    â€œI am conscientious.”
    â€œBut people at school see you as this rebel without a cause.”
    â€œI don’t care how people see me. And just because I ride a motorcycle