Gravity Check Read Online Free Page A

and move my bike off the path.
    That was good fun. I decide that when everyone’s down, I’ll go back up and do it a few more times.
    I turn and give the thumbs up to Rico, who rides down next. Smooth as a slinky, that guy. He gives me a grin when he’s down. I think maybe I’ll talk to him later about being a junior counselor. Maybe I can do the same thing next summer.
    Nolan’s next. He’s been watching Rico and me carefully. I can hear Chase up top, reminding him to stay loose and use his rear brakes. Then Nolan’s off, wobbling a bit. Just when I think maybe he should get off and walk, he drops onto the first stair. No stopping him now.
    Boy, was that ever right. There’s no stopping Nolan at all.
    He plunges over the first few steps, then gets freaked out and tries to rein it in.
    I watch as he hits his front brakes. Rico sees the same thing.
    â€œNolan!” he shouts. “Off your front brakes!” But it’s too late. Nolan’s into the spill. There’s no going back. My heart leaps into my mouth as I watch his back end tip up, up, up and over. Then he’s falling, end over end, stuff flying out of his pack, bumping and smashing down the whole mess of steps. With every revolution, he gains speed.
    At last, he reaches the bottom of the stairs and crashes to a stop. His bike lands on top of him. It looks bad. The universe suddenly shifts into slow motion when Nolan stops moving. No one says anything for a second. Even the birds are quiet. The bike’s rear wheel spins gently in the still air.
    From the top of the stairs, I can hear Seth’s voice drifting to me. “Holy crap, man. That was a wicked endo. Is he okay?”
    I look up. From the expression on Chase’s face, I can tell he’s thinking it’s going to be ugly. Nolan might have broken his neck.
    Time speeds up again, and I take a gulp of air.
    Rico and I drop our bikes and run to where Nolan is lying all crumpled and bent under the frame of his bike. Gear fans out around where he landed. His water bottle. His sunscreen. His glasses (not broken, thankfully). Lip balm. Trail mix. A map. A package of Kleenex perches in a tree nearby, like some random passerby found it on the trail and put it there for easy spotting.
    From above, Chase shouts at me. “Don’t move him, Jamie!” He launches himself down the stepped rock slope on foot, slinging off his pack, his hands fumbling with the zipper of the first-aid kit before he even comes to a stop at the bottom. Seth follows, taking the stairs in big leaps.
    â€œHe might have a spinal,” Rico says to me. He’s breathing hard. I am too.
    Jesus. A spinal? Out here?
    â€œNolan, can you hear me?” Chase says, his voice louder than usual.
    Nolan’s voice is muffled, but it’s there. “I can hear you fine, Chase. You don’t have to shout.” My heart drops out of my mouth and back into my chest and starts beating again. Chase looks at me. There’s relief in the little smile on his face. Nolan’s not dead. And he probably hasn’t broken his neck, either.
    As if to answer my thoughts, Nolan waves his arms weakly. “Hello? Can somebody please get this bike off me?”
    â€œSure, yeah.” Chase gives me the nod, and we gingerly lift the bike off Nolan. When we’ve got the bike untangled from his legs and pack straps, he rolls himself into a sitting position and gives his head a shake. Dust puffs off his helmet. Rico gives him a careful once-over. Nolan’s knees are bleeding pretty good, his chin is a red meaty mess, and he’s got big strips of skin missing from each forearm. I wince when I see them. So does Nolan. Those are going to hurt. He stares at his bleeding wounds and takes a big, shaky breath. I wonder whether we’re going to have to take him back to camp. A wipeout like that is enough to strike fear into the heart of any cyclist. And we’ve got four full days out