James Gong: The Big Hit. Paul Collins

as Jay hasn’t yet given me a list. I’ve scratched off the fact that I tidied up Caitlin’s room for her after that conversation with Mum. When Caitlin found everything all neatly tucked away in her room (including her knickers drawer) and those old posters of failed rock stars taken down from the walls she screamed blue murder. I hid in the toilet the entire afternoon till Dad drove me out when he started playing the bagpipes.

      I wait ten minutes, check the coast is clear, then follow Amber and Caitlin. If I were a moth, Amber would be the bright light that draws me in. I said that to Jay the other day. Jay got kind of cross, and said what if Amber’s the electric kind that zaps you? Jay can be a wet blanket sometimes.

      I get to the vert, making sure I’ve got some cover. Amber is gazing at her latest heartthrob (gag, barf, vomit!): tall, dark, and stupid. Yep, a total showoff called Mario. Right now, he’s stair riding but still finds time to toss his slick hair back out of his eyes, like he’s a fashion model, or something. He shoots Amber a sultry look (reiteration time: gag, barf, vomit!).

      What. A. Poser.

      And stair riding? How hard can that be? If Dork Face can do it, anybody can. Well, anybody except Caitlin, of course. Or Ethan. Given a pole to gnaw on even Mr Freddo could do it.

      Dork Face sets up for another go. He leans forward a bit, lets the front skate drop first, then the rear skate, and lands on the rear wheels. His knees and ankles are bent to absorb the shocks. How simple’s that?

      I decide to stop hiding, especially as several people at the tram stop are staring at me peering around the corner of a CityWide garbage bin.

      ‘Hey, guys,’ I call.

      Caitlin ignores me and Amber turns, her face glassy.

      ‘You look cold,’ I say. ‘You wanna cuddle under my jacket?’ I hold it open. C’mon, I’m joking with her. You don’t seriously think I’d expect Amber to lean into me like we’re the best of friends?

      ‘James,’ she says, ‘if I was freezing to death at the North Pole, I’d sooner cuddle up to a starving polar bear.’

      Cool. She likes to cuddle. That’s good to know.

      I think of telling her my jacket is Armani but it’s actually third-hand and even when it was new, it was fake.

      Mr Show Off skates over to the stair rail and jumps up on it. Down he goes. It’s called a zero spin farside soul. How do I know so much about skating? I hit on all the inline skating sites on the Net. How else can I have a deep and meaningful chat with Caitlin and Amber?

      ‘Neat grind,’ I say, but Amber’s turned around and doesn’t seem to hear me. I wander over to the vert ramp. ‘Hey, Caitlin.’

      She finally turns and eyes me. ‘Yes?’

      ‘Nothing,’ I say, a little too quickly. For a moment I forgot that we’re not talking. She continues to stare at me for a moment, then looks back as Mr Show Off blades over to them.

      I’m close enough now to see that he’s got more zits than the moon has craters. In fact, a couple of them look like craters. He and Amber exchange ‘a look’. My insides cramp. I’m not jealous of their friendship. Much.

      Just then a hand taps me on the shoulder.

      I let out a squeal, but it’s only Jay.

      Jay gives me a long steady look. After a bit, I take a deep breath. I don’t get angry. Can’t. Just never happens. And Jay always manages to calm me down.

      ‘You all right?’

      ‘I’m fine,’ I lie, though I am starting to feel a little better.

      By now Mr Show Off is off up the ramp. Amber goggles, doe-eyed, as the guy does more stunts in five minutes than Jackie Chan does in an entire movie. Pfft, I’ve seen Caitlin do way better moves.

      ‘Wish he’d fall flat on his face,’ I mutter under my breath.

      Jay tut-tuts.

      Mr Show Off executes a stupid move called a parallel 540. He goes airborne, seems to hang in the air for a second, then imitates all the flying skill of a brick.

      SPLAT!! He’s flat out in la-la land. His mouth is clenched shut as though he’s been force-fed a school of mackerel. Only there aren’t any mackerel here at the vert. Which reminds me, I need to return It’s Okay to Laugh (Crying is Cool Too) to the library. Don’t ask me why I think of this right now. I just do.

      Jay and I look at each other. Wow.

      If I’d known God, the Universe, or Fate was listening to me at that exact moment, I would’ve wished for something truly worthwhile:

      (a) I could breathe fire. That would be cool! So long as I didn’t sneeze and accidentally snort fire and set Caitlin’s hair on fire. Now that would be so not cool.

      (b) Everything tasted like sherbet bombs. Except to my enemies. They can have everything tasting like Brussels sprouts.

      (c) If I had a suction cup face, I could attach it to windows and spy on people.

      (d) Make people do whatever I want – that would be so good. But then I would be like Voldemort and do the imperious curse on everyone. That would be so NOT good. I would also end up with a snake face and that would be way not good. I’d have the total opposite of a suction face.

      Okay, so having free wishes is harder than it sounds!

      Back to reality: Instead of seeing Mr Show Off for what he really is, Amber races to his side and cradles his head in her lap. Of course, Amber wants to be a doctor, so it might just be a save-all-lives-even-Mario’s thing. Maybe I should get beaten up at taekwondo . . . Tosser would oblige. But I hear he’s taking up ballet. (Okay, that’s a fib.)

      Jay reads my face, or my mind, and snorts. ‘You think Amber will be all over you if you get beaten up at taekwondo?’

      ‘No!’ I say. ‘Do I look that stupid?’

      Before Jay can say anything I stomp off, heading home. Jay points out that I’m going the wrong way.

      ‘I knew that!’ I snap, wheeling about and heading in the other direction.