She held back and watched him for a minute, unsure of his moves or his pace and then raced up the bowl herself and executed an astonishing leap at the top of the bowl, shooting the board in front of her and landing, then up the step and back down again and couldn’t help herself, she executed a spectacular kick flip, aiming the board to land in front of him, performed two cannonball somersaults in the air on the way down, landing perfectly on the board, and racing right beside him in the bowl. Game on.

Tess kept pace right along with him, aware that a crowd had gathered and was watching them.

The boy raced fast, gaining lengths in front of her, and with no warning, shot up the side of the bowl again and landed, board first, and then his feet were planted securely on it on the ground.

Tess was lagging way behind, still racing a half a lap behind in the bowl. And then she felt the wind behind her easing her on, speeding her way. At lightning speed, she began the steep ascent up the bowl and landed perfectly on the ground a step below him. On the ledge above her the boy, a little cocky now, and smiling, flipped his board up to the next ledge. The board sailed forward, and he dropped to one knee, put his hand out to catch himself, and fell forward, flat-out on the ground as the board speeded away without him. Tess resisted the impulse to say: Game over.

Max was there to lend a hand to pull him up, which the boy grudgingly took. Tess complimented him on his amazing run. And thanked him for the match and reached her hand out to shake his. That didn’t go over too well either. The boy wouldn’t take her hand. He wanted a re-match. Tess was almost game, but Max jumped in and apologized and insisted they had to meet their aunt. Max didn’t think you should race someone who wouldn’t shake your hand when the match was over.

As Tess and Max walked back to the corner, before they called Aunt Evie, they did something they hadn’t done in a while, linked pinkies as they walked, subtly so that nobody would notice, a silent pinkie swear. It wasn’t holding hands, but it was a thing they did, a special way they had of telling each other that they had each other’s backs.

They didn’t have to call Aunt Evie, as they ran right into her on the corner as she was on her way back to them having found a few treasures at the bookstore, an early edition of a Dylan Thomas poetry book which made Aunt Evie very happy, and a bag of candied ginger for their mom.