“I’ve done the dishes and my homework,” she says. “May I go out for a while?” “I suppose so,” Aunt Märta replies. “But be home by dark.” Stephie pulls on a cardigan and ties her shoes. Finally it’s warm enough for her to put her too-small boots away and wear lighter shoes. She goes out onto the steps. The air feels cool and fresh against her cheeks. Aunt Märta’s bicycle is leaning up against the house. It has thick tires and a heavy black frame. If she could learn to row the dinghy she must be able to master Aunt Märta’s bicycle, too. Stephie grasps the handlebars by their wooden grips and leads the bike out onto the road. She pulls it up the hill, getting sweaty and out of breath. She stops at the top. The road continues in a long downward incline. Not steep. And quite straight. This must be a good place. Taking a deep breath, she puts her right foot on one pedal. Then she lifts her left foot, tramping down with her right. She tries to get up on the seat, but it’s too high.
