The open air makes my stomach lurch, and for a glittering moment, time slows. Or maybe even completely stops existing. I feel completely free. Weightless.
I can feel her all around me, hear her laugh, her words and her list pushing me forward.
Then… I realize I’m still falling. Still hurtling through the air.
WHAT AM I DOING?!
I begin to flail my arms wildly, desperate for my feet to meet the water, for the free fall to be over.
I hit the water hard, my legs splayed, my shins and thighs burning from the impact, an instant wedgie shooting so far up my butt, I don’t think it will ever come out. And I can’t stop to try to pull it out, because somehow I’m still going down, my body slicing through the water with twenty feet worth of momentum.
Finally, I come to a stop, completely suspended. I look up to see the sunlight trickling through the water, a sea of bubbles between me and the outside world, a steady stream of them pouring out of my mouth and nose. I paddle my burning legs to the top, and eventually I break through the surface of the water, grateful to be alive and all in one piece. I let out a gasp of air, coughing, the grimy taste of lake water hitting hard in the back of my throat.
“You good?” Blake asks, swimming over to me, her fingers reaching out to lightly touch my side.
“I think I lost a boob on impact,” I say, double-checking that my black bathing-suit top is still in place and that both my boobs are still there. “Oh, thank God,” I add, breathing a sigh of relief. “They made it.”
We both burst out laughing, giggling as we swim toward the shore, the water slowly getting shallow enough for us to stand on the slippery, mossy rocks at the bottom. I stumble, and Blake reaches out quickly, grabbing on to my arm to steady me. The two of us tiptoe carefully around the jagged stones and twigs covering the shore and make our way to the trail leading back up to the cliff.
I gaze up in awe, slightly impressed I fell all that way and lived to tell the tale. It was nowhere near as neat as Blake’s graceful little dive, but a cliff jump is a cliff jump. I did it.
Blake turns to look at me, her brown eyes glowing almost amber in the sunlight.
“You up for a round two?”
My heart beats loudly in my chest, my shins tingling from the smack of the water, the burn suddenly more intense at the thought of a second jump.
I feel… exhilarated, though. Like my body’s been asleep and I just woke it the hell up. Like I haven’t ever used it properly and it wants me to, long-dormant adrenaline coursing through my veins, making me feel like I can conquer just about anything.
Making me feel the tiniest bit… invincible.
My adrenaline rush forces a nod out of me, which provokes a smile so big and genuine out of Blake, I can see every tooth, and the gap between the first two. It’s adorable and my heart rate spikes again, because I know that smile’s there because of me.
I don’t know why that matters so much, but it does.
“You going to do a flip this time?” she asks, clearly joking.
I roll my eyes at her, my legs still stinging. “Blake, I’m honestly just trying not to give myself a permanent wedgie this time. Last jump was a close call.”
We make our way back up the trail, faster now, the excitement of the first jump fueling us, even as the dirt clings to our wet feet. Blake pulls me back up onto the uneven rock, and this time I’m able to finally look out at the view.
Really look, now that my vision isn’t clouded by as much fear or vertigo.
The lake is glittering, there are trees as far as the eye can see, and… Blake’s mom was right. From up here, everything does feel small. What happened at Snyder’s Orchard with Matt. What happened at junior prom. Even the house that soon won’t be mine anymore.
But what she didn’t tell me to expect is that by everything else shrinking away, it leaves room for other things to become bigger. Something that sometimes feels so small and far away can suddenly feel closer than it has in years.
Three years, to be exact.
My mom. She taught me to live so fearlessly. And I’ve spent all this time since her death pushing that away because her words were so completely drowned out by everything that happened to her.
We jump for the rest of the afternoon, each plummet off the cliff less scary than the last. Blake, of course, does a flip or two. I cringe every time she does, holding my breath until her head resurfaces, completely unharmed.
After a while we sit on top of the cliff, our legs dangling over the ledge as the afternoon sun begins to set, sending a shower of deep orange and pink across the sky. I look down at the water underneath us, the surface sparkling in the fading light, and…
I’m officially not afraid anymore.
So why the hell am I afraid of the guy I’ve been dating for years? The boy who had always had a crush on me. The boy who my mom always wanted me to give a chance.
I remember the way her face lit up when he came to the hospital to keep me company, sunflowers clutched in his hand as he pulled up a chair next to her. I think, deep down, all my other friends were scared to come. Scared to see someone so young wither away so quickly, a person they knew suddenly skin and bones underneath a blanket, her own cells and body rebelling against her.
But not Matt. He came every weekend.
The second the door closed behind him one Saturday afternoon, she leaned
