The Spinning Pedal

I slipped out past the door frame and went straight for the bicycle leaning against the porch railing. That low pedal looked like a solid stepping stone, but the second my boots struck the notched metal, the whole platform flipped beneath me. I didn't hesitate—I threw my torso forward, hooked an arm around the thick crank, and dug my soles into the serrated teeth. The pedal whipped around in a fast quarter-turn and halted with a solid thud against the chain guard. I locked my knee joints and held my ground right on the slant. Nailed the landing.