Little Victories

By David J. O'Brien

Nicky and her two new friends, Mark and Ash, spend spring racing their mountain bikes through south Dublin – both down hillsides and hitching rides from HGVs – and exploring their feelings towards one another. They're aghast to one day find an illegal fire on the mountain, just set by a farmer. When the police say they can do nothing about it, the three determine to catch the culprit red-handed. But life is as complicated as love, and as Nicky comes to terms with this, she discovers that sometimes you have to accept whatever little victories come your way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David J. O'Brien
• Release date: Mar 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223599364

David J. O'Brien

David J O’Brien is an Irish ecologist, poet, fiction writer and teacher. He was born in Dublin, studied environmental biology and zoology at University College Dublin. He taught English in Madrid for four years, biology in Boston for seven years and now teaches English and science in Pamplona, Spain, where he lives with his wife, daughter, and son. He is still involved in deer biology and management, and has written about deer watching for Ireland’s Wildlife and deer management for the Irish Wildlife Trust. His non-academic writing is often influenced by science and the natural world—sometimes seeking to describe the science behind the supernatural. His poems have been published in several anthologies and journals, such as Albatross, Houseboat, and Misty Mountain Review. His paranormal horror trilogy, Silver Nights: Leaving the Pack, Leading the Pack and Unleashing the Pack, contemporary adult fiction novels Five Days on Ballyboy Beach, and The Ecology of Lonesomeness, have been published by Tirgearr Publishing. His young readers fairy tale novel Peter and the Little People and paranormal YA The Soul of Adam Short were published by MuseItUp Publishing and are now self-published, as is his dystopian novella The Logical Solution and short story collection, Last Light on the Sage Flats. More of his writing, including poems and blogs about nature, rewilding and wildlife management, can be found at http://davidjmobrien.wordpress.com/

Book preview

They'd said not to go too far, or let the truck pull her too fast. Nicki was sure, however, they'd said that just because they thought a girl couldn't do what they did.

True, they weren't the kind of boys to tell a girl she couldn't do anything—they'd invited her mountain biking before she'd asked about it. It was just too exciting to let go. If she did, she'd lose speed straight away and would have to pedal herself onward, up the rest of the hill.

The lights were no doubt going to turn red soon, anyway. The truck would slow to a stop. Traffic never went through many junctions unimpeded on this dual carriageway out of the city. It was as if they purposefully designed the lights not to aid traffic flow, but to stop it—just to annoy drivers, and slow their escape to the suburbs. Or perhaps it was because they never thought of putting them in sequence in the first place—God forbid they should do a bit of thinking when not expressly requested.

Nicki chanced a look at the driver again. He still hadn't noticed her presence. It seemed like he was talking to someone—a hands-free mobile, no doubt.

Then the truck curved around the bend, and Nicki spotted a car parked in the bus lane in front of them. Her heart skipped a beat. Then it double-timed again to make up. Her pulse thumped in her ears, making it suddenly hard to hear the traffic.

Christ, she'd hung on too long. The bike going too fast. She couldn’t avoid hitting it.

Little Victories© 2023 by David J. O’Brien

All rights reserved . No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cover Art © 2023 by TWJ Design

Dedication

For a friend.

Philip Lee is no longer with us, but was an inspiration off and on a bike.

And for all who take a stand to improve the world around us.

Life is always cruel. It's just usually busy being cruel to someone else.

Chapter 1

Careening

The girl pedalled furiously , aware the eyes of the two boys were on her, and the truck was only twenty yards away.

It had stopped at the red light, but she knew the traffic signal was about to turn green. The truck was first in line at the junction. Two cars waited behind it, but they wouldn't get in Nicki's way. The bus lane on which she cycled was clear as she powered herself up the hill, wishing she'd done some training before agreeing to this. Psychologically, she’s definitely ready; physically, it was tougher than it would appear on paper.

The truck shifted, the driver already putting it in gear—as aware as Nicki of the signal sequence. She powered the bike up the slope. She couldn't miss this.

The light changed.

Nicki passed the two cars, panting hard, vaguely aware of the drivers glancing her way. The truck driver looked in his side mirror, staring at her. A shot of adrenaline coursed through her. Would he wait for her to pass by? He turned back to face the road ahead. The heavy vehicle pulled off. She hoped he’d keep his eye on the road, then turned her attention to the back of the truck. There was a hole in the container that sat on the open bed of the trailer. Nicki took her right hand off the handlebars and reached out. The truck was moving too, now, though. A last stamp on the pedals brought her almost within grasp. Almost.

But not enough.

Then the driver changed gear. The truck slowed momentarily. Just enough. Nicki clasped the steel container and stopped pedalling, to the relief of her tired thighs. Her heart hammered just as furiously. More. Adrenaline now coursed through her blood vessels.

She pulled herself forward until level with the back of the trailer. The truck engine revved as it drove through the junction. Nicki spun the pedals gently to appear as though passing the cars stopped on the perpendicular street, but, in fact, the bike was being pulled up the hill by the truck. Her fingers noted the sharp edge of the metal. It dug into her skin, but she ignored it. When the truck driver changed into third gear, the truck slowed again just long enough for her grip to shift to a more comfortable one. The fleshy part of her fingers pressed against the corners of the steel.

Nicki sighed deeply, then grinned to herself. Wahey! I did it! I'm doing it. I'm getting a free lift up the hill on the back of a lorry.

Taking her eyes off the road for a millisecond, she glanced at the side mirror. The driver hadn't noticed her. He was looking at the road ahead. Probably hoping the next traffic light didn't turn red before reaching it. Nicki hoped the same. They were only going ten or fifteen miles an hour so far, but it felt amazing.

The cars that had been behind the truck moved into the passing lane once they'd gone through the junction and the vehicles in the right-hand lane moved out of their way.

They sped on ahead. Nicki didn't look at them, didn’t see if they noticed her action. She focused on the road, its surface, the potholes, and the pull of the truck, waiting for it to change gear. Her concentration was on maximum; honed in to every change of speed, every shift left or right of the white line delineating the bus lane from the rest of the road. Both knuckles were white as they gripped the container, her arms tense as if engaged in an arm wrestle with the big vehicle.

As the truck reached the top of the hill, it picked up speed, and Nicki did too. The bike wheels spun below her, dizzying if she stared too long. They must be nearing thirty now, but she didn't let go.

Nor did she intend to.

She'd no idea where the two boys were. This hitch-a-ride-behnd-a-truck had been their idea. It was crazy, but they were crazy. And perhaps she was too. People in cars around her were surely watching, also wondering if she was crazy. But she didn't care. She clung on, knuckles locked, as though climbing the cliff face of Dalkey Quarry, her entire weight hanging on those four fingers wedged in a crack. The flesh pressed white from the force.

Pedestrians stared at her as she sped by. Nicki grinned back. They wished to be her, no doubt. She didn’t blame them. She’d wished to be her as soon as she saw the boys at this trick. It was amazing. Exhilarating. Invigorating. Her whole being was at one with the truck, with the road. There was nothing else. No school, no exams, no boys.

Her handlebar wobbled. The road became uneven for a dozen yards. Her front wheel bounced up over the badly-patched potholes, but she kept on, her grip just as tight. Her heart thumped furiously in her chest.

She wasn't going to wuss out, though—definitely not because of a few bumps. She was going to show these boys she was every bit the mountain bikers they were.

The lorry picked up more speed, but she rolled on. It was going well over thirty miles an hour now. She didn't want to let go, although she'd never gone thirty miles an hour before, even when flying down Foxrock Hill.

They'd said not to go too far, or let the truck pull her too fast. Nicki was sure, however, they'd said that just because they thought a girl couldn't do what they did.

True, they weren't the kind of boys to tell a girl she couldn't do anything—they'd invited her mountain biking before she'd asked about it. It was just too exciting to let go. If she did, she'd lose speed straight away and would have to pedal herself onward, up the rest of the hill.

The lights were no doubt going to turn red soon, anyway. The truck would slow to a stop. Traffic never went through many junctions unimpeded on this dual carriageway out of the city. It was as if they purposefully designed the lights not to aid traffic flow, but to stop it—just to annoy drivers, and slow their escape to the suburbs. Or perhaps it was because they never thought of putting them in sequence in the first place—God forbid they should do a bit of thinking when not expressly requested.

Nicki chanced a look at the driver again. He still hadn't noticed her presence. It seemed like he was talking to someone—a hands-free mobile, no doubt.

Then the truck curved around the bend, and Nicki spotted a car parked in the bus lane in front of them. Her heart skipped a beat. Then it double-timed again to make up. Her pulse thumped in her ears, making it suddenly hard to hear the traffic.

Christ, she'd hung on too long. The bike going too fast. She couldn’t avoid hitting it.

Its hazard warning lights were on; flashing orange in case a bus should decide it might like to use the lane. An old man got out, leaving the door slightly ajar as he waited for the truck to pass by. The truck shifted out to the right to give the car and driver some room. But that didn't give Nicki enough room to squeeze between it and the car. Not at this speed.

If she'd been in traffic on her own steam, the cars stopped, or just crawling, she might have squeezed through. Not like this. The wind from the truck would blow her and the bike into the car. There was no way she could avoid clipping the wing mirror—or the entire door—and taking a spill onto the tarmac.

The bike wobbled now. Big time. She let go of the truck and grabbed both handlebars again like her life depended on it—which it probably did, but best not to think of that right now...

The truck sped on. Yet Nicki didn't slow much. The slope was now downhill a little, maintaining her momentum. She pulled the brakes. Her bike wobbled even more under the strain of braking.

Despite her speed, things happened slowly. She had time to notice every detail. The skin blotches on the old man's cheek, his enormous belly protruding from a jacket and shirt, the buttons pulled taut as he turned around to watch the oncoming traffic—a little late now, Nicki thought—he should have glanced in his mirror before he opened the door, still open as she sped near enough to notice how sharp an edge it had.

Both hands clasped the bars, and she kept control of the vibrating bike. Kept it steady when the wind now caught her as she fell back out of the truck's slipstream. The bike slowed under the taut pull of her fingers. Just enough for the truck to pull ahead ever so slightly, despite the trucker also shifting his foot from the accelerator to the brakes; hitting them in anticipation of the red light now ahead.

The old man had seen her now. Also too late, of course. Nicki doubted he could move very sprightly, especially with that belly. He didn't even try. Instead, he leaned back against his car, and pushed the door closed as much as possible—his leg in the way, not quite out of the car.

Oh, Jesus on a tweezers, Nicki said aloud, resisting the urge to close her eyes and hope for the best.

She wondered whether it was better to hit the car, to slide up over the boot, onto the roof and down the other side, or to hit the old man. The former seemed better all round—for the man, and for her, considering the door edge staring at her, as agape as the old man’s mouth now. It would be worse for her bike, but bikes could be repaired.

At last, her front wheel fell far enough behind the truck to clear it. Immediately, she swerved out into the lane behind it, heaving a huge sigh. Luckily, the cars behind weren't going so fast that they came up on her rear wheel. One beeped its horn lightly in annoyance—the driver obviously unaware the traffic was stopping for the red light. She ignored it: daren't glance around. She stared at her wheel, at its proximity to the rear of the truck, at the vehicle’s brake light. She kept slowing the bike, aware that if the truck driver did slam on the brakes, she'd smash into the back of the trailer. Her front wheel would definitely impact, would buckle under her and she'd hit the tarmac. And the car honking behind her would be hard-pressed to avoid rolling over both her and the bike. Perhaps it would have been better to hit the parked car.

The old man kept staring at Nicki as the truck rumbled past him. He looked angry as if she'd discommoded him, though he was the one illegally parked.

She held her breath. The car flashed past, the driver now a blur in his proximity. Once in the clear, Nicki veered back onto the bus lane, allowing the honker behind her to slide by, though it had now also reduced speed.

Nicki had slowed to nearly a stop. With her hands off the brakes, she felt the bike vibrate under her. She realised it was her hands shaking. She was trembling from the excitement, fear, and relief.

It was over. In the space of eight seconds, she’d nearly crashed and had saved herself.

She began to pedal again, past the slowing truck, and the other vehicles halted at the pedestrian lights. She fastidiously avoided glancing at the driver of the car who'd honked, in case they stared at her. The lone pedestrian who'd pushed the button to change the sequence had already crossed, so she rolled through unimpeded, cycling on to keep her muscles pumping, to use up the adrenaline over-produced by the close call.

The entire experience had only lasted scant minutes, but boy, it had been a rush as good as any she'd had careening down a hill on her bike. It was a good deal more nerve-wracking. But it was worth it.

When two boys came cycling along behind her, on bikes a lot newer than the one she rode, Nicki was still quivering a little.

That was cool, she said, grinning as they caught up and slowed to her pace.

The boy in front, blond hair poking from his helmet, nodded and returned her smile. Not too bad, for your first time.

Chapter 2

The Boys

D on't mind the smart -ash, the other boy said. He had black hair protruding from under his helmet. His smile belied eyebrows that seemed to frown. "That was very impressive for a first time. Ashton here let go after ten seconds his first time."

Well, we were only learning what we were capable of, then, Mark, Ashton said. Just getting a kick-start on the red lights. We didn't have the technique. It was all new, something nobody we knew had ever tried before. We had to build up to what we can do now.

Which she just did the first time, Mark returned.

But we told her how to do it. She's standing on our shoulders now.

Who's she? The cat's mother? Nicki asked. Her parents wouldn't talk like this, as if she wasn't here.

Sorry. So how was it for you? Ashton asked with a wry grin, going slightly ahead of her to let Mark ride parallel with her.. Nicki narrowed her eyes at him.

It was great.

So, are you converted? All your doubts gone, now? Mark asked.

Am I what? Like Saint Paul. I'm going to take over and tell the world. She pumped her pedals hard, then changed gear to keep up with their faster pace.

What we need to do is form a club. Get everyone in school with a bike onto this thing. We could have races across the city—time trials, of course, so people wouldn't be fighting over the same trucks.

Mark had his eyebrows raised when she glanced over.

Imagine it, she went on, everyone would love it. It would get more votes than the next party at Dylan Brock's house.

Steady there, Nicki, Aston said, glancing back at Mark. Don’t get all religious on us.

Mark's lips curled into a wry grin. We don't really want a load of lads, all pushy and shit, trying to impress girls and then crashing and blaming us two for it.

Nicki smiled. She knew what they meant. But she pretended she didn't.

I don't get it. Aren't you two doing this to impress me? I thought the one who was fastest down the mountain, or held on longest to the trucks, won the right to be first to ask me out.

Ashton blushed. We didn't think that at all.

Mark peered at Nicki, however, and cracked a proper grin. She's messing with you, Ash, he said. She's our kind of girl.

Ashton chuckled, but Nicki could see the relief on his face. Of course, I know that. I was just going along with her.

You were, yeah, Nicki said.

I was, he claimed with a lopsided grin that told Nicki he was only hoping she'd believe him.

In truth, it was Nicki who wanted to impress them, which was why she'd hung on so long. Now that she'd done it, though, she couldn't for the life of her understand why.

They were both good-looking boys—each in his own way. Nicki could see that as well as the girls at school who said so at least once every day. Ashton, Ash to everyone, and Smart-Ash to his male classmates, had pale skin, piercing blue eyes and almost white blond hair. It was fine, straight hair that flopped over his brow so that he spent much of his day brushing it back through his fingers or flicking his head to get it out of his eyes. He had a lovely smile. Nicki just wasn't melted by it the way Chloe Holmes claimed to be.

Mark was darker, both of complexion and expression. His black hair was shaved to his scalp at the back and sides. Heavy locks on top flopped down over the sides when they weren't sculpted up with hair gel. A tall and wiry boy, he looked upon the world with dark eyes from under a heavy brow. His intense gaze missed little, and his sharp tongue was always ready to strike with a riposte: usually sarcastic or ironic.

He was soft on the inside, though, as they said: a kind, thoughtful boy under his brooding exterior. Most of his comments were reserved for smart Ash, when his best friend went too far in his enthusiasm for mockery.

There were constant debates between Chloe Holmes and Siobhán O'Toole about who was more handsome. Nicki usually stayed out of such discussions, but she knew they'd all be dead jealous to know the boys had invited her to try this activity. It was something her schoolmates—both female and male—talked about, too. Chloe had seen Ashton hanging off a fruit delivery truck on the Rock Road, going at least fifty miles an hour, she said. Ashton had shrugged it off, claiming he'd only got a kick-start off a red light. It was no big deal. Just something he'd done once or twice. Mark had seconded the sentiment, claiming Smart-Ash was stupid, but not quite that stupid...

But they'd told Nicki it was true. They both hung on to trucks and lorries a lot longer than a mere pull from stationary to get their pedals going. And they'd asked her if she'd like to come watch them, and try it for herself.

She wondered what the two girls, and Rebecca Mayhew, would say when she told them.

If she told them.

She'd think about it later. Now, she was enjoying the moment. Having them both give her their attention was nice, even if she wasn't sure she was their kind of girl or not quite yet.

And the day wasn't over. They were on their way to the Dublin Mountains.

Ashton clicked his own gear to pick up the pace. Come on, let's get going. I'm looking forward to seeing how fast you can go when you're coming down a mountain.

Nicki stood up on her pedals. Okay. We can stop at Lamb's cross. The first there can buy me ice cream.

Marked dropped back. I don't think my bike can go very fast.

Nicki turned around and nodded at him. Yeah.

"Let's say the last down gets