by Sigmund Brouwer

Under a blue sky on the hottest day of the summer, only three of us remained at the top of the hill sitting on our mountain bikes.

On one side of me sat a girl who had just moved to town. A little way off, my best friend, Jimmy Evans, prepared to zoom down the steep slope.

Jimmy was far enough away that I could whisper to the girl, Suzy Wallace.

“You know what?” I said softly. “Last night I snuck into Jimmy’s garage and loosened the pedals on his bike. He doesn’t have a chance!”

“I thought he was your best friend,” she whispered back.

“He is,” I said. “Best friends since first grade.”

Jimmy had no idea what we were talking about. He grinned at me and yelled, “Ready, Mr. Loser?”

I looked down the bike path that headed straight toward the lake. A crowd of kids waited for the three of us to jump in the first annual Daredevil Mountain Bike Jumping Contest.

“Me? Mr. Loser?” I said to him. “The name’s Mike Roberts, king of daredevils. You might remember my practice jump yesterday cleared yours by half a mile.”

Ever since we were little, Jimmy and I have competed against each other. Not in a bad way, like trying to hurt each other. But afterwards we like to brag. Anything we play—baseball, football, soccer—we always try to do better than the other guy.

Jimmy’s tall and skinny, like me. People sometimes think we’re brothers, because we both have the same reddish-blond hair . . . and maybe because we argue like brothers. Not in a bad way, because we really are friends.

“Ha. Ha. Half a mile if you measure backward,” Jimmy shot back. “How ’bout the loser cuts the winner’s lawn for the rest of the summer?”

I laughed. He, of course, didn’t know why. Those pedals were going to come off as soon as he stepped down hard enough to get any speed.

“You got a deal,” I said. “And Suzy’s a witness. Right, Suzy?”

“Sure,” she said. “But can I get in on this deal, too?”

Her question surprised us both.

“You guys aren’t afraid of a girl beating you, are you?”

“No,” I said quickly.

“No way,” Jimmy added. “This whole contest was our idea.”

Crazy Contest

It was. We’d come up with the Daredevil Mountain Bike Jumping Contest because summers in Greenville are so boring.

I must admit, it was a good idea. A professional stunt rider lives in our town, and he built a ramp next to the lake to practice his bike tricks. The water’s not deep enough to lose a bike, and it isn’t so shallow that a person could get hurt jumping into it.

We asked his permission to use the ramp, then told all our friends. The idea was to ride down the hill as fast as possible, shoot off the ramp and jump into the lake as far as you could.

Kids were allowed to practice all week; then on Saturday we had started with 15 of us at the top of the hill.

The view was great. Our town reflected in the water on the other side of the lake. And rolling hills spread off as far as you could see. But nobody was looking at the scenery, because we were all too nervous.

At the base of the hill, my sister and Jimmy’s sister held video cameras to tape the jumps in case anybody disagreed on who had jumped the highest and farthest. Even our parents came, just in case somebody got hurt.

We’d watched the first 12 jumpers go. Seeing kids hit the ramp full speed on their mountain bikes and vault into the air was great. Some held onto the handlebars as they hit the water. Others jumped off their bikes for super-big splashdowns.

Double-Crossed

“So what’s your offer?” Jimmy asked Suzy.

“If I don’t beat both of your jumps,” she said, “I’ll cut both your lawns all summer.”

“And if you somehow actually manage to beat us?” Jimmy asked.

“You visit me and my dad every Sunday morning for the rest of the summer.”

“Huh?” Jimmy asked. “Your dad?”

“He’s a minister. You guys will have to come to church.”

“We don’t need preaching,” Jimmy said.

“Afraid?” She smiled and laughed.

“You’re on,” he said.

“You’re on,” I said.

Jimmy waved and pushed off.

I held my breath.

He’s a great athlete. His legs are stronger than mine, and he’s very coordinated. That’s why he had a good chance of winning—except for those bike pedals.

A third of the way down, he pushed so hard that both pedals came off. He was standing as he pedaled and slammed down hard on the bike’s crossbar. He barely kept his balance as he hit the ramp, but I could tell he was in pain by the way he fell over sideways in the air. Altogether Jimmy cleared only 5 feet.

Before he got out of the water, I busted a gut laughing. Even at the top of the hill, I could hear his groans of pain.

“Mike Roberts, you dog!” he shouted. “I know it was you who did that!”

“Best friends, huh?” Suzy said.

“Sure,” I grinned. “Such good friends that I’ll beat you on this jump—and you can cut my lawn instead of him doing it.”

She smiled. “Go for it.”

“I will.”

I got ready. From my practice runs, I knew how much fun this was going to be.

The key was to start fast and hard. There were no bumps to worry about on the way down. You could hit the ramp at full speed. As long as you dipped at the knees just before takeoff and kept your balance in the air, it was a breeze. Landing was fun too. The water really cooled you off.

“Well?” she said. “I’m waiting.”

“Psyching myself,” I explained. “With Jimmy out of the way, I’ve got a real good shot at winning.”

“Sure,” she said with that smile.

I should have suspected something. But I was too dumb.

Standing, I slammed my feet down on the pedals as hard as I could. And halfway down, my bicycle chain snapped.

On the video Jimmy and I saw later, I looked exactly like he had. I fell hard on my bike seat, managed to keep my balance, hit the ramp and flew a few feet into the air. And, like Jimmy, I simply fell over sideways in a big whale splash.

I groaned as I came up for air. Only one person would have done this to me.

“Jimmy,” I croaked. “I’ll get you for this.”

Sunday Surprise

I dragged myself and my bike out of the water. But I was in too much pain to do much else as I flopped down beside Jimmy.

I groaned.

He groaned.

At the top of the hill, Suzy waved at both of us. She pushed off on her mountain bike, flashed down the hill, hit the ramp perfectly and cleared enough air to easily win the contest.

“Remember,” she said with that smile of hers. “See you Sunday morning.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said.

“Yeah,” I said.

As we watched her ride away, Jimmy groaned again.

“You know,” he said, “it was dumb of me to tell her ahead of time how I had fixed your chain to break halfway down the hill.”

I shook my head. “Tell me about it.”

We dragged ourselves home.

And Sunday morning?

Her father greeted us at the church and showed us to our seats.

You’d almost think Suzy had told him the whole story, because his sermon was about honesty.

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