‘Stay where I can see you!’

I pick up the bike I borrowed from Charlie.

It’s a BMX and honestly

I don’t know how people ride these.

I think Jonah’s old

rust-bucket bike

is bigger than this one.

‘You definitely sure?’ I say to Alice.

Rowan crouches on his bike and I can see handlebars and the path stretching out before us. I suck in a lungful of breath.

‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure. Now go – catch up with them. You’re losing them.’

She’s right.

The little sods are miles away already.

I push off and my legs groan.

And we’re riding. We’re riding. And it’s nothing at all like riding with Wesley ever was. Rowan thrashes like a fish caught in a net, and the path swings left and right as his legs do, too. And the trees on either side of us blur by, and people walking dogs pull them back to let us past and –

We’re free.

We’re Living.

I can hear her

laughing.

It makes me feel like laughing, too.

So I cycle faster.

There’s a tunnel up ahead and sitting at the mouth are the boys, waiting for us to catch up while also trying to ram their tyres into each other. And I know Rowan sees them, but he doesn’t slow down.

We skid round them and their heads snap up.

‘See ya later, losers!’

Their shouts echo in the tunnel.

I look back quick

and see they’re following.

The tunnel is filled with words, but no sea creatures, and so we spurt out the other end and whip round a bollard in the middle of the path to keep going – going. And I can hear bikes right behind us now and shouts – high-pitched and breathless – and I pedal my own legs like it might help Rowan go faster – faster.

But he’s slowing down.

Oh

my

God.

This bike.

I think I might

die.

Jonah and Benji shoot out from behind us like fireworks and roar off ahead and Rowan skids to a halt.

‘Okay. Okay.

You guys win.

Stop here, okay?

The old people need a rest.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ I say, because I feel like I have spoons and spoons left to give. I’ve been on the back of the wind and raced cars and been round the world – and I’ve got what it takes to win.

I ditch the bike.

Sit on a bench.

My breath

H E A V E S.

The kids are laughing at me,

but they’re listening at least.

They’ve found some sticks

to sword-fight with.

‘Didn’t you bring any water?’

‘That.

That would have been a good idea.’

I cough and rub my knees.

‘Did it help, though?

Remembering your friend?’

I smile. ‘It’s better than going up a bell tower would have been. Although Wesley was a much better cyclist than you.’