Don’t jump from the cliff ever. But especially not at night.
You can’t see how deep it is.
You could break your back.
You could break your neck.
But Sam and I didn’t go at night. We went so early that no one else was there.
If you want to sneak out, if you want to be with someone, you can go at three or four in the morning. Those are secret hours. They seem to exist out of time entirely, or else very deep inside it.
Sam had a flashlight that he kept low. He held my hand the whole way. When we walked through the grassy field that smelled like rain, even though there hadn’t been a storm for days. When we brushed through the bushes that sounded of crickets. When we went into the trees, carefully felt our way to the cliff, looked down.
When we jumped.
He left the flashlight on the cliff, so we only had light fromthe moon and stars, but we found each other without any trouble at all.
My hand on his wet skin. His breath in the hollow by my shoulder. And I knew I’d been wrong before, about feeling everything I could possibly feel.
Because, this.
Him.
Me.
When we came here together.
The stars high. The air heavy.
The dark water slipping over.
Him.
Me.
Again.
Again.
This was
everything
anyone
could ever feel.
86.
now
“We don’t have to keep playing their game,” I tell Yolo, as we pull into the parking lot of the high school. “Looking for clues. Running all over town. We’re going to cut to the chase.”
We climb out of the car. Yolo’s claws click-clack on the tile of the school hallway. He’s pleased to be on his leash instead of in the backpack. He deserves a break. Yolo keeps his eyes straight ahead as we walk into the main office.
He knows we’re on a mission.
GET TH3M BACK.
