How It Feels to Fly (10 page)

IN EIGHTH GRADE, BIANCA WENT THROUGH A climbing-as-cross-training phase. She got her parents to buy her a ten-class card at the local indoor rock wall for her birthday, and she convinced me to join her for her first session. She was a natural. I . . . was not. But she stayed by my side until I made it to the top of the wall, and she cheered louder than anyone when my feet landed back on solid ground.

I can't help thinking about that ill-fated climbing lesson on Thursday morning. Instead of starting the day with our usual chat in the Dogwood Room, we hiked across campus to a ropes course. First we did low ropes—like moving a plank between a series of ever-smaller wooden platforms until we'd all reached the other side—cooperative problem-solving activities. Then we jumped into the high ropes. Now I'm dangling from a cargo net, wearing a harness and a dopey-looking helmet. Sweat is dripping down my face and back.

For the first time since arriving at Perform at Your Peak, I wish Bianca was here.

“Go, Sam! You've got this!” Yasmin calls from below me.

The net is loose, like a diagonal hammock. It's taking all my upper-body strength to hold on. Still, I'm doing okay until Zoe starts up behind me, and Katie follows her. Then it's like the net gets a mind of its own. Taut ropes become slack in an instant. I miss a step and find myself hanging by my arms. I'm surprised to feel, after a second of flailing, a hand under my right foot.

I look down, ready to say thanks, and Zoe grimaces at me
.
“Can you try not to fall on my head?”

I make a face back. Yesterday afternoon I actually felt a little sorry for Zoe. She seemed genuinely upset. But this morning, when I woke her up, she cursed me out and threw her pillow at me. And while we were getting harnessed to start the high ropes, she called out, “Hey, Sam—be honest, does this outfit make me look fat?”

When I reach the top of the net, the ropes-course facilitator pulls me up onto the platform. I sit, feet dangling, to catch my breath. Zoe's the next one up. “Little help?” she gasps. I think about pretending I didn't hear her. But she was there for me when I lost my footing, even if she won't admit it, so I give her a hand.

“Thanks,” she grunts.

“No problem.”

The ropes course is supposed to be helping us continue to build teamwork and trust. Dr. Lancaster also said we'd
see, in action, how people have different natural strengths. It's supposed to give us perspective. Help us see that even though there will be things other people do better than us, there are also things we do better than them.

And it's supposed to be fun. I'm not yet convinced. At least I'm burning calories.

Andrew's waiting by the next obstacle: a suspension bridge with slats missing, straight out of an Indiana Jones movie. It's swaying in the breeze. But there's a cable across the top that we hook our harnesses to, so I guess there's no chance we can fall.

Still, just before I take that first step, I freeze.

You're too heavy. You're going to break it.

I can see it in my mind's eye. The plank snapping under my foot. Me dangling, helpless, from the harness. Everyone pointing and laughing.

I look over to the other side. Dominic is already there. He's bigger and heavier than me, by a lot, and he didn't break the bridge. So why can't I move?

“All right, Sam?” Andrew asks.

I nod. I'm being an idiot. I take a deep breath and race across the bridge. On the other side, I wait next to Dominic. He's looking out over the ropes course. With his resolute face and the way his dark curls are fluttering in the wind, he looks like the captain of a ship. Then I notice how tightly he's gripping the safety railing.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

He startles, like he didn't realize I was there. “Huh?
Oh. Yeah, I'm great.”

I look down at his hands.

“I don't like heights. So sue me.” He points across the course at a set of suspended balance beams. “But I was looking at that. Think Katie knows it's coming?”

“Should we warn her?”

“I dunno. Maybe it's part of the deal that she's not supposed to have time to obsess.”

When Katie crosses the Indiana Jones bridge and comes to stand next to us, I make a decision. I wouldn't want someone to thrust me into a dance studio filled with fun-house mirrors with no warning. “Katie . . .” I point, and she looks.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Dr. Lancaster and I talked about it yesterday.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

She nods. “I think so.”

I give her arm an encouraging squeeze. “You'll do great.”

“Totally,” Dominic says from my other side.

Next, the guy in charge of the course has us cross a suspended-tire bridge. Then we follow him down a rock wall, across a low tightrope with a cable above it to help us balance, and up again, via a series of platforms and movable ladders.

I'm sweating so much. My hands are cramping. So are my quads. But I am having a pretty good time. It's nice to be outside, in the sunshine, getting exercise. And I see what Dr. Lancaster meant about different people being good at different things. I have good balance; when I stop thinking
about how I'm going to break them, I can cross the wobbly bridges and planks with ease. Dominic's a fast climber, when he doesn't look down. Zoe seems fearless, but she's slower. Katie's upper body is stronger than her lower body; she pulls herself up the obstacles using more arm than leg. Jenna is agile and quick, though not as strong. And Omar—I think his specialty might be “anything that is not a ropes course.” He's bringing up the rear, but Yasmin stays by his side just like Bianca did for me back in eighth grade.

When we reach the highest platform in the whole course, we take a group photo and then break for lunch. Yasmin and Andrew hand out water bottles and brown paper lunch bags. I eat my sandwich fast, my back turned to everyone else, and wash it down with gulp after gulp of cool water. I wish I had another bottle to dump over my head.

Andrew squats next to me. “Hey, Sam. Having fun?”

“Surprisingly, yes. And it's a good workout, too.” I pluck at my sweat-drenched shirt. “Though I'm pretty sure I'm starting to stink.”

Andrew sniffs the air. “Nope. I smell nothing.”

There are a lot of things that leave me a nervous, self-conscious wreck, but body odor isn't one of them—I guess because even skinny people can smell bad. “It smells like nature out here,” I say, laughing, “so you can't smell me.”

Andrew laughs too. “I doubt you ever have serious BO.”

I shake my head. “Ballet dancers are gross.”

“Really?”

“You think we sweat rose petals? My dance bag smells
like something died in it. With baby powder on top.”

“You're shattering my illusions.” Andrew shakes his head. “But I maintain that you do not stink. Not right now, anyway.”

“Aww, thanks.” I try to think of a silly compliment to give him in return. “You know, I think the ropes-course look works for you. Helmet and all.”

He laughs. “You don't look half bad yourself.”

The hummingbird in my chest is back. After the Hershey's Kiss last night . . . this is totally flirting, right? He's flirting with me, and I'm flirting back.

Which is ridiculous. You're ridiculous.

You just got dumped, remember? And Andrew's too old for you. He's basically your camp counselor. It's his job to act like he likes you.

Plus, there's no way someone as cute as him would flirt with someone like you.

No way—

“What's wrong?” Andrew asks. “You're frowning.”

“Nothing. Sun in my eyes,” I say quickly, shading my face with my hand. Luckily, he leaves it at that.

We maneuver through a few more obstacles as a group before we reach the side-by-side balance beams. They're just far enough apart for two people to walk on them with arms outstretched.

I look at Katie. She's gone completely ashen.

“So all you have to do before you get to zip-line down,” the ropes-course facilitator says, “is walk across these beams
to that platform, holding hands with a partner. Who's first?”

Dominic steps up. “I'll go. Get it over with.”

Zoe joins him. “Me too.” She looks back at Katie and then says to Andrew, “You're not seriously going to make her do this, are you?”

“Katie doesn't have to go if she doesn't want to,” Andrew says. “Katie, let me know if you want to get down a different way.”

“Okay,” Katie says softly. “But I think I can do it.” She looks determined. Also like she's about to puke. And I notice her hand rhythmically tapping her thigh.

On impulse, I reach out and grab her other hand. “I'll go with you, okay?”

Andrew hooks up Dominic's and Zoe's harnesses to the cables. When they're both secure, they step out onto the beams. Zoe immediately lets out a stream of curse words. “This thing moves!” she yells.

“It moves?” I look closer and see that the beams aren't nailed to the platforms; they're connected by thick chains. With each step forward, Dominic and Zoe cause the beams to wobble from side to side. Dominic walks slowly and stiffly. I want to tell him to loosen up—that's the key to finding a tough balance. Not being a solid block of wood, but letting different small muscles take over. Adapting.

When they make it to the other side and step off the beams onto the platform, I see Dominic's tension melt away. Zoe, meanwhile, is jumping up and down. “Yes!” she shouts. “That was awesome!”

Katie's palm is sweaty, but I don't let go. She's started counting under her breath. “
One two three four. One two three four.”

Jenna and Omar make the crossing. “And last but not least,” Andrew says. He takes Katie by both shoulders, looking her right in the eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I can cross with Sam. You can go down with Yasmin and wait with Dr. Lancaster at the end of the zip line.”

Katie nods her head. It's small, almost imperceptible.

“We can do this,” I tell her. “Just don't look down.”

“We have to”—she gulps—“we have to take four steps up to the beam. And then we have to breathe in and out four times. Dr. Lancaster said I could if I needed to. Just this once.”

We take four steps forward. We breathe in, out, in, out, in, out, in, out. Katie's grip on my hand tightens. It hurts a little, but no way am I going to ask her to let go.

She's where I was yesterday, staring at my swimsuit-clad body in the mirror. I see it in her eyes. She's walking that mental tightrope, millimeters from falling apart.

We move forward. One step. Two steps. And I immediately understand why Dominic became a block of wood and why Zoe was cursing. We're a good twenty feet off the ground, and the beam is anything but steady. I know we're strapped to cables—there's no way we can fall—but I still feel unsupported. Unsafe.

If that's how I'm feeling, I can't imagine how Katie is feeling.

I peel my eyes away from the beam in front of me to look at her. She has tears rolling down her face. Her shoulders are shaking. Silent sobs are hitching her chest up and down. She takes another step and then stops.

“Katie?”

“I can't.”

“You can. I know you can.”

Katie shakes her head. “I can't. I can't. I need to get down. I have to get down.” Her breath is coming faster. Her fingers feel like ice. “I have to get down. Please!”

“It's just a few more steps, and then we'll get down, okay?”

“I have to get down
now
!”

“Come on, Katie!” Yasmin shouts. “You've got this!” Everyone else joins in. “We're here for you! Go, Katie, go!”

Their voices sound really far away. I feel like Katie and I are in a bubble.

I rotate my body, slowly, to face Katie head-on. “Katie. Look at me.” I hold out my other hand.

Katie meets my eyes. There are tear tracks down her face.

“Can you turn to face me?”

She pivots on the beam, biting her lip. She takes my hand.

“We'll go sideways. Hold on to me, and don't look away. Feel with your feet.” I don't know where this new version of me is coming from—this take-charge, calm-in-a-crisis, comforting person. I just know that it's who I have to be, right now, for Katie.

We inch toward the platform where the others are waiting. Katie's eyes bore into mine. Her fingers grip my wrists.

Now I'm crying too. I look over my shoulder. “We're close.”

Katie nods.

Finally I feel my left foot hit the solid platform. I step up and pull Katie up after me. Katie collapses, wailing, into Dominic's arms. He looks a little freaked out at the wave of emotion, but he pats her on the back. “Hey, you did it,” he tells her. “Good job. Good hustle.”

Zoe is pacing on the tiny platform, confined not only by its size but also by the fact that she's hooked up to the cable, ready to zip-line. She looks furious.

“Are you insane?” she yells at Andrew and Yasmin, who are crossing the beams, and then at Dr. Lancaster, who's waiting on the ground. “You
know
she has a thing about balance beams and you make her go on, like, the King Kong of balance beams? How are you even allowed—”

“Zoe!” Dr. Lancaster calls, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Enough!”

“This place isn't just Crazy Camp,” Zoe rants. “It's, like—” She sees me staring at her. “Why are
you
crying? Is part of your body-image problem having a problem when your body isn't the center of attention? Welcome to the real world, Ballerina Barbie. It doesn't revolve around you.”

I take a step back, stung. I wipe my face with one hand. Zoe resumes pacing.

“Um, I'd really like to not be here right now,” Omar
says. He's bouncing in place again. He adjusts his glasses and fusses with his harness and scratches his head and shifts from foot to foot, like fidgeting is the only thing keeping him from freaking out too.