The Bike Ride

They say the bike race was my idea, that Craig Winters and the others would have preferred to stay indoors that August Bank Holiday Monday. In the shade where it was nice and cool. But Craig's mum agreed with me. It's a lovely day, she said, why don't you go out and play before school starts again?

      Five of us rode to the clearing at the bottom of Whaley Hill. Me. Craig. Gordon. Callum Jenkins. And Callum's cousin Shane Jenkins. Or Skinny Shane, as we called him. We left about one o'clock and took bottles of squash.  

      I won the bike race, like always. The others grumbled on the clearing, but we'd agreed a bet and Craig and the others each handed me five pence. Apparently, Craig was the only one who didn't grumble, but then he rarely did. He was always happy and he never bore a grudge. I had twenty pence now, plus the twenty Mum and Dad had given me at the start of the day. I was rich.

      They say I led the way up Whaley Hill, telling ghost stories as we steered the bikes up the twisting path to the reservoir. That Gordon got angry at the top of the hill and stormed off in tears because Callum and Shane had upset him again. I went after Gordon and brought him back to the reservoir, returned the five pence piece to him, as he had nothing. He wouldn't stop crying, but I remember none of it.

      For me, there was only confusion. Glimpses of trees in the stillness while the sun beat down upon my head and the sweat poured down my face, onto my t-shirt. Vince Macarthur appeared suddenly by the reservoir and made towards Craig  but that must have come afterwards, once Gordon, Callum and Shane had gone. I think I took my t-shirt off at some point, but I can't be sure about that, as witnesses saw me with it on later. I know I felt dizzy and sick from the heat.  

      The five of us played a few games of hide and seek in the woods. Then, Gordon, Callum and Shane got bored, took their bikes and left me and Craig there.  They never saw a thing.