‘It needs to be lower!’ Bridge shouts back. ‘Otherwise we’ll go flying. Or hit the ground.’

Ellie rearranges the bricks holding up the ramp, making it flatter. ‘Better?’

‘Yeah. But Clem can try it first.’

I skate over to her. ‘Really?’

She nods and I roll my eyes at her. ‘How come I’m the guinea pig?’

‘You like taking risks.’

Bridge is forever saying that. I don’t think it’s actually true because I don’t feel drawn to doing daring things, but she’s believed it ever since I taught her how to climb a tree back in grade two. When we both stood on the wrong branch and fell onto the grass – Bridge broke her arm and I got a tiny scratch on my leg – she said I was a born risk-taker. I’d call it lucky.

I power up the street so that I have a run-up. And then I stop scooting and slide my foot behind the other on the board just as I reach the ramp. The front wheels hit the wood, slide up, and I bend my knees, getting ready to land. But then one of the planks jerks under my wheels and nudges across the brick, leaving a gaping hole that my front wheels fall into. I go flying up and over and land on the asphalt. In my mind I’m sprawled elegantly on the ground and will jump up without a scratch. But then a sharp pain stabs through my knee, and I examine the bubbles of blood forming on my torn skin.

Bridge and Ellie seem to be there in seconds, both fussing over me.

‘You okay?’

‘Fine,’ I say weakly, watching as the blood starts to seep from the scrape and dribble down my leg. I look up at my friends. The sun is shining behind them and they are haloed by light. I can barely make out their faces, but I’m struck by how similar their silhouettes look. If I cross my eyes they become a blurred monster with two heads, like perfect halves of one creature. Seems I’m the only one being left behind.

‘Ew,’ says Ellie, noticing the blood. She reaches down to take my hand and help me up. ‘Sorry, Clem. I’m obviously really bad at building ramps!’

‘Is anything broken?’ Bridge moves in to make sure I really am okay.

I laugh. ‘No. I’m fine.’

Bridge bends down to look at my leg. ‘Your knee isn’t. It’s goopy.’

‘Is that the official medical term?’

Nodding, Bridge moves around to my other shoulder and slips her arm around me. They lift me slightly off the ground and I realise they are actually trying to carry me and I can’t work out if it’s a nice feeling.

‘Bet you’re glad I went first!’

‘I really am,’ says Bridge.

We make it to her front door.