The pink-and-charcoal seat.
Silver crown.
Protective frame.
Her tiny riding gloves resting on the cushion.
The lightweight helmet.
She looked at Rachel.
Then Mark.
Then Cole.
“You made that?”
Cole looked toward all the people standing behind him.
Frank.
Tito.
Club members.
The upholstery owner.
The engineer.
“No.”
“We did.”
Ellie’s eyes filled.
She rolled closer.
On the outer panel she saw the small crown.
“Princess.”
Cole shrugged.
“You were outvoted.”
She touched the side.
Then looked toward the motorcycle.
“Can I sit in it?”
Cole immediately looked toward Rachel.
Rachel looked toward the therapist.
The therapist nodded.
“Stationary.”
They transferred her carefully.
Positioning took eight minutes.
Once supported, Ellie rested her head against the cushion.
Her hand found the grab rail.
Cole stood beside the motorcycle.
“Well?”
She looked around.
“I feel fast.”
The engine was off.
Everyone laughed.
Cole climbed onto the motorcycle.
Hands on bars.
He did not start it.
Ellie looked toward him through the clear windscreen.
“Doc?”
“Yes?”
“Make motorcycle noise.”
The shop exploded with laughter.
Cole stared.
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
Tito immediately shouted:
“VROOM!”
Then thirty grown bikers began making engine noises like idiots.
Ellie laughed so hard the therapist told everyone to calm down.
Rachel covered her face.
Mark recorded twelve seconds before remembering they had agreed not to make the experience about cameras.
It became one of their favorite videos anyway.
In June, Dr. Shah reconsidered.
Ellie had stabilized.
Tests were acceptable.
The proposed ride was changed again.
Not ten minutes.
Six.
Maximum five miles per hour.
Hospital rehabilitation parking loop closed entirely.
Medical team on site.
No crowd near the course.
Parents.
Essential builders.
Club riders only outside the perimeter.
Ellie agreed to stop at the first sign of fatigue.
This time nobody announced the date beyond necessary people.
No promises to the town.
No publicity.
June 21.
Another Saturday.
At 8:03 a.m., Ellie arrived.
Pink jacket.
Custom gloves.
Her stuffed bear secured in a tiny pouch beside the seat.
Cole wore his vest.
Sophie’s ribbon inside.
Ellie saw his face.
“You nervous?”
“No.”
“You look nervous.”
“I’m always ugly.”