Bear Adventure by Anthony McGowan, Nelson Evergreen

facing, the lines are close together, but they’re more widely separated on the other side. You get it?’
    Amazon nodded vaguely. She had never had to read a map in her old life, back in boarding school in Sussex.
    ‘Sure. Whatever.’
    ‘You should try to get this stuff into your head,’ replied Frazer, his voice completely lacking its usual note of playfulness.
    ‘OK, I get it,’ snapped Amazon. ‘Lines close together means steep; lines not close together mean, er, not steep.’
    Frazer rolled his eyes. He was actually quite enjoying being the sensible one for a change.
    ‘The trail we’re on skirts round the base of the mountain,’ he continued. ‘We can climb up from this point here –’ He pointed at the map. ‘In fact, it’s not really a climb at all, more of a stroll. When we’re up there, we should be able to see forever.’
    ‘I think there may be a slight problem with your plan,’ said Amazon.
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Listen.’
    ‘Listen to what?’
    Amazon held up her hand. And behind the sound of the wind in the trees, and the chirruping of woodland birds, there was the distinct noise of water. Of water moving quickly.
    White water.

They cycled on for a few more minutes and there, just as the trees gave out, they came to a narrow gorge, perhaps three metres wide, with a stream raging some five metres below. The bank they were on rose up in a sort of natural ramp, and fell away on the far side.
    ‘Drat,’ said Amazon. ‘I suppose we’ll have to scramble down there, somehow, and then get all wet and dirty crossing the wretched thing, and then have to haul these bikes up the other side.’
    Then Amazon realized that she was talking to herself.
    ‘Time to learn how to do a real jump,’ came Frazer’s voice from behind her, where he had backed up along the trail. ‘You’ll love this. Just watch what I do, then copy it.’
    Frazer began slowly, then rapidly reached full speed, and he surged up the sloping final section. At the top he sailed out and landed beautifully on the
lower side of the gorge. He skidded round to face her with that infuriating grin.
    ‘Your turn! And make sure you land evenly on both wheels.’
    ‘B-but …’ she began.
    ‘Seriously, Zonnie, it’s not a big deal. Because this side is lower, you can’t flunk it. But, if you really want to, I’ll wait here until you’ve climbed down, swum over and climbed up again …’
    Amazon was a gutsy kid, but she did have one weakness: heights. And she felt doubly vulnerable, as she was going to be relying on cycling skills she wasn’t sure she possessed.
    It wasn’t the prospect of the climb and swim combo that decided her (the stream was more of a wade than a swim, although she guessed the water would be icy cold), but the thought of chickening out of something that Frazer had done with such ease.
    So, muttering various really quite bad words under her breath, she freewheeled back down the track, so she could get up enough speed for the jump.
    Her legs pumped frenziedly as she ground up through the gears. A low branch brushed against her helmet, but not enough to put her off or slow her down.
    The edge of the gorge came closer, closer.
    She imagined herself flying.
    She imagined herself falling.
    Crushed and crumpled among the rocks in the stream thousands of metres below.
    Amazon jammed on the brakes just a couple of metres short of the jump. It was almost a fatal mistake. The bike skidded and slid right up to the lip. The front wheel was half over the edge. Had Amazon stayed on the bike, they both would have tumbled down the gorge. As it was, she managed to nimbly leap off the bike, keeping hold of the handlebars with one hand, so that it didn’t fall.
    Frazer had been watching, horrified.
    ‘You OK, Zonnie?’ he cried.
    ‘No thanks to you,’ Amazon huffed back. She was a little winded, and her knee hurt, but she was basically fine.
    Frazer cycled further down the trail on his side and, without pausing, made