“Who gets the bike?” Uncle Lionel asked.
“His instructions were clear,” said Grandma. “You pick one item.”
“Even her?” sneered Aunt Maybelle.
Grandma nodded. “Lotta’s one of us. Her Ma isn’t here to choose.”
“Let’s draw lots,” suggested Uncle Atticus, who was Gifted with luck.
We all ignored him.
“Look, does anyone else want the bike?” Uncle Lionel edged closer to its rusty curves.
I raised my hand.
“Perhaps you could race for it,” cooed Grandma, fetching the brooms.
Later, she watched me polishing my prize.
“Your Grandpa showed you the shortcuts, didn’t he?”
“Sly old devil,” she grinned.
This story was written for the Friday Fictioneers. Click the little blue smiley fellow to read more stories from other authors.