Jump.

It looked far higher from up here. That was the thought running through Josh’s head as he stood astride his black-and-turquoise mountain bike, at the top of the footbridge that served as a launch point for anyone attempting the jump. The boys had erected the ramp a few weeks ago, using the natural incline of the mound around the storm drain, digging up the soft dirt and piling it on top until it formed an excellent jump. You had to admire their ingenuity. It wasn’t supposed to be here, but now that it was, its popularity was spreading. Every day after school, kids would come from far and wide to have a go on “the drain jump”, as they called it (not very imaginatively, in Josh’s view, but who was he to complain?).

It had taken Josh a few weeks to pluck up the courage to have a go himself. He was kicking himself for not trying it earlier, when it was lower, when the only kids hanging around were the ones in his year group, or younger. Now, more of the older ones came down, Year 7s or 8s probably, and they were all watching. The soil was soft and easy to dig, and the bigger kids couldn’t resist adding to the jump, piling it higher, making it more exciting. It looked a lot more dangerous too. Some of the large holes the boys had dug had exposed the concrete around the drain, and he didn’t like the idea of falling on that. There were plenty of kids Josh’s age confidently sailing over it though, including his friend Ollie from school, some of them even pulling off audacious tricks in mid-air. So why couldn’t he?

It wasn’t that he lacked confidence on a bike either. He was a good cyclist. He went cycling with his mum most weekends, they’d go all the way to the park or to town, and he could even cycle up the big hills no problem, leaving his mum trailing slowly behind him. He liked his bike. He’d got it last Christmas, and felt very proud to finally have a brand new, shiny, “big” bike (with 18 gears) all to himself. But it didn’t look as good as some of the other boys’ bikes. Theirs had suspension, for one thing. Did suspension make a difference? Josh wasn’t sure.

He made a show of adjusting his helmet, playing for time. The ground had worn smooth from hundreds of rides. He’d definitely pick up some speed, zooming down the slope of the bridge and onto the dirt track that led to the jump. He was pretty sure he could get over it easily, as long as he didn’t bottle it at the last minute and hit the brakes. It was the landing he wasn’t sure about. Would he land on his front wheel or back? How bad would the jolt be? How would he keep his balance?

He’d seen boys come off, some of them quite badly. They didn’t seem to mind getting hurt. Josh minded. He minded very much. When he was younger, he was always crying over the slightest graze. His parents often got exasperated with him, once it was clear he didn’t have a major injury that required hospitalisation.

“It’s not that bad”, they’d say. “Come on, pull yourself together.” It always did seem that bad, in Josh’s opinion, but sometimes his classmates would laugh too, and that hurt even more, more than the injury itself, if he was honest. So he was really trying hard not to cry in front of them, to “keep a stiff upper lip”, as his grandad would say. Sometimes it worked too, and he really would forget about it a few minutes later. Not always though. He didn’t think he could keep a stiff upper lip with a broken arm, for example, as seemed quite likely here.

He wished his best friend Maisie was here. Maisie never laughed at him at school, and being with her always made him feel more confident, somehow. He reckoned he could do the jump with Maisie here. She would know just what to say. She wasn’t interested in the jump though. He wasn’t sure why. None of the girls seemed to be, except Alex Brown’s older sister, Chloe, and she was like an honorary boy, anyway. She wore baggy t-shirts instead of crop tops, and she was more fearless than any of them, flying over the jump with her long hair trailing behind her, like a goddess. She didn’t care what anybody thought. Josh wished he could be more like Chloe.

Everyone was looking at him now, waiting. He knew he’d have to make a decision, one way or the other. Only, decisions had never been his strong point, always torn as he was now between really wanting to do something and knowing it would probably end in disaster. What he really wished was to have already done it, for it to be over. But he was old enough to know that wishful thinking didn’t work, that he’d have to make it happen for himself.

All he had to do was push off from the bridge and pedal, as fast as he could. He could bear right and take the dirt track up and over the ramp, to whatever fate befell him. Or he could veer off left and follow the path all the way home to his mum, without looking back. She’d understand. She wouldn’t laugh. Which would it be? Josh took a deep breath and kicked off from the bridge.