'You go first.'

'Nah, you go first.'

'It was your idea.'

'Yeah and it was a good idea.'

'Well you go first then.'

The taller boy squinted for a moment in deepest contemplation.

'Alright.'

He straightened up from his knees and started walking back the way they had come. Bare feet crunching against the loose stones. Oh great, thought Carl, if Peter was gonna do it, that meant he was gonna have to do it too. It was a long way down. A very long way. What if there were rocks underneath the water? Sometimes you couldn't see them, they were under the surface. They could be jumping right on top of them. He wondered why things like that occurred to him and not to Peter. Like down on the beach when they had seen the crab, all he could think was how sharp its claws were but Peter had just picked it up with his bare hands; waved it in the air laughing while it wriggled and pinched, waved it till they were both laughing. Carl looked up at him. He was rubbing his heels into the ground like he was an athlete or something, his face was fierce concentration. Then he saw Carl and his face broke into a smile. Crooked teeth jostling one another for attention. But Carl was caught by his eyes; dark and round like the pebbles on the beach, the kind you picked up and put in your pocket to take home because they were striking and different and beautiful.

'Peter…'

'I'll see you at the bottom.'

'But…'

Then he was running. Pale white limbs cycling against themselves as he hurtled forward. Then for a moment, he was still in the air, legs and arms hooked out like a broken starfish. Then he disappeared.

Carl scrambled to the edge and saw the splash as the water swallowed him possessively. Some feeling rose up in him and he couldn't quite decide if it was admiration or jealousy. He stood very still. As still as the water. With no one else there to say anything or do anything, there seemed no way to tell if time had stopped. If he'd thought about it, he would have noticed that the seagull overhead was still squawking but he could only think that it was taking too long. Too long for the waves to break and give up their prize. He thought about rocks and felt sick.

Then something burst from the water.

'Carl! Woah! That was amazing!' He was laughing, floating forward and back on every wave. 'Come on, you'll love it!'

The air rushed from his lungs in one long breath of relief. But Peter was waiting. He looked so small all the way down there. Carl moved backwards slowly, feet dragging against the ground. His chest was tightening again and his fingers had started to drum against his leg of their own accord. He had no intention of jumping, and yet here he was, still moving backwards, still eyeing up the edge. He could see Peter at the bottom, moving slowly back and forth with the tide. He could tell from the tilt of his head that he would be looking up at him expectantly; not impatient, just eager, like he didn't doubt for a second that he would do it, like he didn't even know what doubt was. He became aware of time again. Sounding all the seconds too loud in his head, adding them up, calling them hesitation. He couldn't do it, he really couldn't, but then he couldn't not do it either. Not that Peter would laugh at him, he somehow knew that he wouldn't. He'd only be disappointed. But the disappointment would be more than enough. It would stand between them, separating them, and when all that was left of this day was a photograph of memory, it was a photograph he wouldn't be in.

It was only to close the distance between them that he started running, and even then he thought he would stop, that his legs would stop for him. His legs kept on going. He didn't even notice that the edge was getting closer, only that the distance between them was getting smaller and when he jumped, it felt a lot like falling.