Jaime Mera: Writer and Editor

I wrote this short and wild story for teens from a first-person perspective when life is not fair, but is worth living.

The Day I Won
By Jaime Mera

It was a wonderfully brilliant spring day. The wind was blowing pollen around like wildfire. But that didn’t mess up my rhythmic breathing as I sped down the final stretch, coming to an unwanted stop.
Who would have imagined that I would be getting my rights read to me on the side of the road? I mean, Sheriff O’Malley must have been out of his mind. According to him, I was doing seven miles over the posted speed limit.
I protested, of course. How the heck can a person not go faster than the school zone posted limit, even on a bike? I was leading the pack, so I must have been going over thirty miles an hour. But I had to talk back at him; I mean, it was a weekend, for God’s sake! Who goes to school on the weekend?
O’Malley wanted to hear none of it. I think I pushed him over the edge because he got steaming mad at me for trying to make an excuse. You know, the one where I didn’t have a driver’s license because my dog ate it, or my top-of-the-line twenty-speed aluminum alloy framed bike didn’t come with a registration.
He jumped back away from me, waiting for me to make a move, but turned down towards the street and hailed the people behind me, pulling all of them over as well.
My short-lived joy turned to depression as the school body of racers caught up to me. I must have been at least a quarter of a mile ahead of everyone. Now, I was inches from other bikes, some colliding into other racers as O’Malley threatened to pull out his nightstick if they didn’t stop.
Many classmates and friends looked at me in horror. As if I had committed a terrible crime, so terrible they were now going to pay for it.
“I didn’t do anything.” Was my defense.
It was an impressive sight to behold. Over two dozen bikers lined up on the side of the road, the one patch of roadway that didn’t have parents or bystanders as witnesses to come to our rescue.
One of the seniors took off his helmet a few feet from me and stared at me in wonder. “Man, you can really move for a sophomore.” Robert wiped sweat off his forehead with a small towel.
“Everyone, be quiet!” O’Malley yelled at the entire group. “You are all under arrest!”
“Can he do that?” A girl in the crowd asked.
“Man, if I had a badge I would…” Another comment erupted.
“Not another word or else!” O’Malley threatened, this time taking out his cell phone. “I will call your parents faster than you can text. Help me Mommy–come get me...”
“Look, there!” A boy yelled in the back.
Everyone looked back down the road. Lo-and-behold, Albert Littlemen was coming fast.
Albert Littlemen was a little on the heavy side, wore large nerdy glasses, and looked as if he were sweating pints every ten yards. But he had the largest smile I had ever seen in my life. He rode his bike with absolute pride and glee. His parents and younger sister bought the brand-new Speedster ten-speed for his birthday, and he must have been so happy to be riding it in the annual school bike race.
“Albert! Turn back around. Don’t come here, get away!” A girl screamed, trying to warn him so O’Malley’s fury wouldn’t find him like the rest of us.
Albert saw the crowd of racers and O’Malley. His smile got bigger, if that was at all possible. His teeth shined for a mile out as he sped up even faster. Maybe he thought he had caught up and now was his chance to get in front. Or maybe he thought it was a trick so he would turn around and go in the wrong direction. I really don’t know what the heck he was thinking at the time.
O’Malley moved close to the road, hailing Albert down.
The younger students sighed as they knew what was about to happen to the one person who had a chance to avert an arrest.
The older students just ignored the situation, not thinking too much about Albert, a nerdy undergrad.
O’Malley watched Albert pass him in total disbelief.
I will never forget Albert’s big blue eyes as I saw them up close as he sped by me. The grin of a lifetime still on his face. “Catch me if you can!” were Albert’s only spoken words since the encounter.
“What the hell…” Robert’s awe turned into a wide grin. “GO ALBERT, GO!”
The students cheered on the young athlete, as did I, with screams, whistling and clapping.
O’Malley, on the other hand, turned to me. “You got lucky today, Sonny.” He darted into his Sheriff’s car.
I guess it wouldn’t have helped to tell O’Malley that Albert always says catch me if you can to everyone he passes. I mean, it could have been a squirrel next to a tree or an old lady sitting on her front porch. But I sometimes wonder if Albert really did know what he was saying with that big grin on his sweaty face.
The lights and sirens went off as O’Malley burned rubber in hot pursuit of Albert Littlemen, AKA Renegade.
We scrambled onto our bikes and rode toward the finish line. The entire group of racers came up to the broken finish strip a half mile later. The cheering we expected was mixed with emotional inquires. Parents and friends ran up to me and the other students wanting to know if we were alright and what had happened.
One racer yelled Albert’s name over and over. “Albert! Albert! Albert!” many others followed suit and applauded the youngster.
I spotted Albert being put in the back of the police car. He was holding the first place trophy in his hand as O’Malley took him away.
Come to find out later, Albert crossed the finish line and ran up, grabbing the trophy as O’Malley finally stood in front of him. “You can’t do anything to me! I’m a minor!”
I laughed when I heard that. Minor or not, he went to court. The judge dropped all the charges, of course. But his parents grounded Albert for a week. A week, stuck in his room playing video games. Doing homework would have been a reward for him, I guess. But I also imagine not riding his bike was the hardest punishment for him that week.
Could you have guessed why Albert was grounded? Not because he had evaded police or potentially broke the speed limit. No, Albert was grounded because he forgot his manners and didn’t address Sheriff O’Malley with the title of Sir, or Sheriff.
Many people went to see Albert during the week, but his parents wouldn’t allow any visitors. I was one of those would-be visitors and I could tell by his dad’s face that he was very proud of his son. The years that followed, was a time of great friendships and stories of Albert Littlemen, a merry soul with great determination.
Yes, Albert was a hero in school and in life. Albert had won the race, but he did more than that. Albert had won for all the people his life touched. He had won for me.

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