Les Petites - A Short Story Collection

Fifteen Years Later

Sophie had just had the biggest wipeout she'd ever had, and Matt finally understood why Mom had been so stressed about him wearing a helmet. He and Logan had been so busy talking about their aching shoulders that he didn't see her struggling until it was too late.

His heart was still pounding from seeing her fall so hard. When he knew she hadn't hit her head or broken a bone, he pulled the crying girl into his lap and gave her a tight hug. "Hey, it's all right, little dude. You're all right."

JJ stood next to them and looked down at the scrapes she'd earned from tumbling down the sloping concrete. "Don't worry, you're just not very good yet because you're a girl, but you'll get better."

"Yikes," Logan groaned. "Sorry, dude. Looks like he got his lady skills from me."

Matt dismissed the issue with a small wave. "We're all idiots when we're seven. And it makes sense that your kid would be extra idiot. It's all good."

Sophie wiped her dirty hand over the tears on her cheeks before pawing at the velcro straps of her knee and elbow pads. "Dad, I don't wanna be here anymore."

"Then you don't have to be," Matt said. He stood up and clutched the five-year-old tighter to his chest, then looked at Logan. "I'm gonna take her home now. I think she's tired."

Logan looked up at the fading sunlight of early summer, rubbing at his beard. "We'll probably take off too then. But we gotta do this again sometime. You got any weekend plans?"

Matt shrugged, tossing her helmet and board and pads in a dusty heap in the trunk. "I dunno. Just doing stuff. Probably going to call Mom."

"Smash your boyfriend?" Logan wiggled his eyebrows.

Matt laughed in his dopey way. "I mean, yeah. If he wants."

"You know he wants. No one can resist those curls of yours." Logan started walking over to his son. "Just text me whenever you aren't going at it. Let's do dinner on Sunday."

They said a quick goodbye, and Matt looked at Sophie's big brown eyes, which were still full of tears

"Speaking of dinner, I think we'll have pizza tonight," he told her, trying to put a smile on her face. "You wanna help me make dessert?"

She nodded, but she didn't smile, and that made him frown.

When they got home, they tossed her helmet and board and gear in a heap by the shoes. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen, shifting her weight from foot to foot as Matt quickly found the crinkled Trevino's coupon on the fridge and called in for a couple pizzas.

They went and sat on the bathroom floor, and Matt pulled every single box of colorful bandages out of the crowded drawer.

He then held up her arm to point at every piece of red. "Alright, I think this one is a pony scrape. And I think this is a turtle scrape. Maybe a Darth Vader scrape. I can't decide on this big one, though."

"A princess scrape?" she suggested with a sniff.

"You're right. That's exactly what it is," Matt agreed, smiling.

He put a different kind of bandaid on each one. When he was done, he kissed over each colorful strip. She laughed and then she sobbed.

He finished by kissing his daughter's head. "You still hurting?"

The little tremble of her lip was a knife in Matt's gut. She shook her head. "I'm not good at skating. Everyone is better than me. I don't wanna go back."

That sadness in her eyes brought him straight back to being young. To the time when he once felt the same way.

"Then I think it's time I showed you something special." he told her, running his fingers through her hair.