Page 130 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

Mom and Dad always surprise me with something on my birthday. It’s been a yearly tradition my whole life. From what I could remember of it, anyway.

It feels like an eternity, waiting for Dad to give me the okay to pull off the blindfolds. I hop in place, still holding Mom’s hand.

“OK, princess,” Dad begins. “You can take them off now.”

I skip in place with excitement, rip the tie-dye bandana off my face, and drop it onto the ground.

My mouth falls open. I look up at Mom with big eyes. A smile spreading wider than the Atlantic Ocean. Then I look at Dad.

He waves his arm toward a big, wrapped present sitting in the center of the clean garage. “Come on now.”

I leap in place and sprint to it, bringing my hands out and tugging off the wrapping paper. The crinkling echoes off the walls of the garage.

My eyes widen more as I stare at the pink Barbie bike adored with a big purple bow. My heart races with excitement, and I jump into Dad’s arm, giving him a big bear hug. I repeat the process with Mom.

“Can I ride it?” I ask, my two little feet leaping in place.

Dad smiles and nods. “Of course you can. Go take it for a spin.” He winks.

I screech, leaping again in the air. Dad pulls the end of the bow, untying it. I don’t waste a second. I swing my leg over, straddling the bike. My excitement slowly faded. My confidence is vanishing.

I have never ridden a bike without training wheels, and the feeling of falling off has me hesitant.

I look at Dad. “I’m scared.”

He gives a soft smile. “Don’t be.”

“But what if I fall?”

Dad crouches down to my level, putting my helmet on and buckling it. He places a hand on my shoulder and looks me in the eyes. “You can do it, Summer. Remember, you are the tiger.”

Mom places a hand on my other shoulder. “We’ll be here to support you every step of the way.”

I smile, keeping the words in mind, and kick up the kickstand.

“I’m the tiger,” I whisper to myself.

It takes me a few tries to learn my balance, but then I get the hang of it and am halfway down the driveway. I pedal and pedal to my heart’s desire. All my worries fade away as I focus mainly on my balance. Mom and Dad cheer behind me, but I remember that Dad told me never to look back when I was learning how to ride a bike, even with training wheels. So, I don’t look back.

A sense of independence mixes with the wind against my face, and laughter bubbles in my belly. When I reach the corner of our street, I turn around and pedal my way back, placing my foot on the ground to help stop the bike.

I quickly get off the bike, toss my helmet onto the ground, and jump in place. “I did it! I did it!”

“I always knew you could. We’re so proud of you,” Dad praises me.

***

I wipe the warm tear that sneaks down my cheek away and take a deep breath.

“I am the tiger,” I whisper as I walk through the metal detectors. Fear continues to eat at my insides.

The prison is dark and cold. Everything is gray and made of steel. Lifeless. It speaks the mind of the evil within. Guards surround the area. They walk back and forth with guns strapped to their belts. I can’t stop myself from focusing on them, pushing the thought of my father holding the cold metal against my back out of my head.

My body shakes as I stand in place, clueless about what I’m even doing here. I should go back home. My father doesn’t want to see me. If he had, he would’ve called me.

Before I manage to turn around and go home, a guard comes up to me. His black hair and strong frame cause me to tense.

“Ma’am, do you need help?”

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