The crew straps me in, tightens the buckles, checks the rig.
One of them flashes me a thumbs-up.
This is it.
I glance over my shoulder—and Beckett is there.
Not looking panicked. Not trying to stop me. His arms are crossed, his jaw relaxed, but there’s something in his eyes—curious, focused. Like he’s seeing me. The person.
It’s not that I don’t know what I do at home is important, because it is! And I love it. Usually. But that endless sort of routine… it makes you kind of numb inside…
And right now, I’m feeling something I haven’t felt in I don’t know how long.
Not afraid.
Alive.
Clutching the bars, I look down.
Ripples from the boat, cresting, foaming, dancing. I think I spot a fish. Ihopeit’s a fish. Not a shark.
“On three,Señorita.”Then.“Uno. Dos. Tres.”
My stomach swoops.
And then—I’m the one swooping.
Before I realize what’s happening, the chute catches, yanking me up with a sudden, powerful jerk that steals the breath from my lungs.
Oh my God! I’m doing it!
The water falls away. The boat gets smaller. The noise of the engine fades until all I hear is wind.
It’s… quiet.
So much quieter than I expected.
I float. No, I fly.
The resort unfolds below me, white rooftops glinting in the sun. The shoreline curves like a smile, and the sea stretches into forever. And down on the beach, I see them—my boys—two tiny figures waving and jumping up and down.
A laugh bursts from my chest—part shock, part joy, part pure, stupid awe.
I kick my legs, just because I can.
I’m flying.
I’m flying!
Tears spring to my eyes, sudden and inexplicable. I could blame the wind, but it’s more than that.
I think of my dad out of nowhere. Of something he told me once, on a road trip when I was twelve and mad we were camping instead of going to Disneyland: “We don’t travel just to see new places. We go away so we can step away from our lives, be someone different, learn something new.”
See things in a different light.
And from up here… I do.
I see everything. Luna, laughing with Noah. My mom with one hand on each of my boys’ shoulders as they watch me soar. Babs waving her floppy hat, her cover-up blowing in the wind.
