Page 20 of The Chemistry Test

‘You could at least pretend to believe in me, Penny,’ he smirks, pushing the wheelchair towards the bottom of the hill, while I try to make myself comfortable on the ground.

If he can hide how much it hurts to be squashed by a wheelchair that’s five inches too small, I can hide the pain of sitting on concrete with unstable hips. Well, sort of.

I’m still adjusting myself on the ground when he takes off again, without a hint of fear or hesitation, even without the anti-tippers.

His first try is incredibly clumsy, but he doesn’t fall.

In fact, he’s improving more quickly than I would have liked.

I didn’t think I’d be the one in the chair until next time, but as he masters it more and more with every try, it slowly dawns on me that there might not be a next time.

And after another ten minutes, he jumps up after a particularly good one, ready to pass the baton on to me.

‘It’s actually a lot easier than I expected,’ he says, fastening the helmet on to my head while I pull the knee pads over my tights, low-key freaking out inside.

I try to focus on each individual step, rather than the whole picture.

The pads feel similar to some of my old knee supports and the whole situation makes me want to pinch myself at how far I’ve come lately.

Who knew you don’t have to get better for things to get better?

CJ throws the elbow pads down to me when I’m done, and I keep giggling to myself at the absurdity of it.

I feel like the kid in Tom Fletcher’s ‘Afraid of Heights’ video before she prepares for the wheelchair backflip.

And then I’m up in my chair, ready to tackle my personal Mount Everest. And, like CJ, I take his advice and just go for it – pressing my back into the backrest and pushing myself forward with a surprisingly swift flick.

‘That’s not bad at all,’ he laughs, giving me a high five after I crash back down, landing on the anti-tip bars.

You barely have to leave the ground to be caught by them, so if I really want to get up the kerbs myself, I know I’m going to have to do it without them.

But I don’t like the thought of that, so I try it again, using a lot less force than before.

And after the fifth time, CJ, who’s been sitting on the kerb two feet away, stands and puts his foot in front of my wheel.

Well, crap. I already know what he’s going to say. A safety net is as much of a prison as any confined space, after all. And we both know I’ve reached that point.

‘I think it’s time to try this bad boy without the stabilisers,’ he says, and I freaking love that he calls them that. But I’m not so sure.

‘I don’t think I’m ready,’ I say, hugging my arms to my chest as he pushes the bars away. It feels like there should be another step between having the ‘stabilisers’ on or off, rather than it being a binary thing. I don’t even have to say it out loud for CJ to know what I’m thinking.

‘I’m not going to let you do it like I did,’ he says. ‘I’ll be right here to catch you.’

But I’m still not sure, so he takes a step back so we can look at each other more comfortably. I always prefer it when people do that rather than crouching down.

‘I really think you’ve got it already, Penny,’ he says, standing to one side so that he’s not blocking the streetlight so much. ‘You didn’t even land on the stabilisers the last few times. You’ve found your centre of gravity.’

‘That might’ve just been luck, you know.’

He tips his head back like he’s trying not to laugh.

I have no idea what’s going on right now. I tell him so.

‘You and your bloody luck, Penny. I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think anyone’s as lucky as you seem to think you are.’

I’m sorry, what? ‘I don’t think I’m ...’ I trail off as I think back to all the times I said exactly that.

He grins the most annoying, self-satisfactory grin I’ve ever seen. ‘You don’t think you’re what?’

‘Self-confident,’ I mutter. I wish I could’ve thought of something more witty, honestly, but when I look up, CJ’s smiling. I have no idea if it’s because of what I said, or because he thinks he’s right again. Knowing him, it’s the latter. Well, so be it. At least I’m not a gloater.

‘Correct,’ he assures me, putting his grey beanie back on. ‘So, what do you want to do now?’

I take a breath. I’d never say so, but I honestly still think it could’ve just been luck. Physical stuff isn’t exactly my strong suit. But, with CJ standing guard, I figure he can be a literal one. My backup strong suit. ‘I should at least give it a try without the stabilisers, shouldn’t I?’

He nods back, smiling. ‘Nothing to it but to do it, Penny Lane.’

And so I do. And it’s so lucky that CJ is the able-bodied one out of the two of us as I end up flying right out the front of my chair.

‘Nice try, Superman,’ he says, catching me and setting me and the wheelchair back down. ‘We should try doing it over the kerb,’ he says. ‘So you can see how much force you actually need to use.’

‘Okay,’ I say, biting my lip. Because moving towards the kerb also means moving away from the grass, which I’m not best pleased about.

But even though I feel a bit shaken from falling, I also feel reassured from being caught.

So, we take a break for a moment to let my heart rate come back down, moving both the wheelchair and our goalposts.

Because even though CJ learned how to get up really high – and even hold it there – an almost-dropped kerb isn’t actually that high at all.

‘Ready when you are,’ CJ says, standing to one side, ready to catch me from the front or behind, depending on which way I fall. And then we try again. And again. And again. Until finally, I start to make it over the kerb without any help.

After my best one yet, I give myself a big push and put my hands in the air, rolling away and then back towards him up the road. ‘I think I’ve got it!’

He grins back, clearly impressed. ‘I think you have.’

So, we pack up the safety equipment and call it a day, putting the backpack on my chair to save him from carrying it.

As we walk, he tells me it’s the most fun he’s had in a while – and, honestly, me too. I feel like I did seven years ago, after learning a new trick on Delilah’s new skateboard. The buzz would pump through me for hours afterwards and I’d be itching to do it again, just to see if I could.

We stroll in companionable silence, and I wonder if it’s reminded CJ of anything like that too – BMXing or even just learning to ride a bike in the first place maybe.

It’s not until we’re almost back to my building, which is lighting up the night sky, that I notice how bloodshot his eyes are.

I didn’t stop to look at the time while we were out, but it must be a good couple of hours by now.

‘How do you think we did?’ I ask, hoping he doesn’t feel as tired as he looks.

‘Was I better or worse than you expected?’

The corners of his mouth curl upwards as he looks over at me. Content, even if a little sleepy. ‘I mean, you were good, Penny,’ he says, taking a sip of water and giving me a cheesy grin. ‘But I was better.’