All right, enjoyment. I can deal with that. It’s a huge step up from suicidal. My main strategy for saving his life so far has been drinking coffee and talking to him about books, which is not earth-shattering as strategies go. Pity I’m going to kill myself on a bike before I discover whether he ends up being okay. When Des comes to my funeral, he can weep over my coffin about how my death at such a young age was all his fault for asking me to look after James.
“When I die in a horrible crash, or lose a limb,” I say to James, “I’m expecting an amazing eulogy at my funeral or at the very least some amazing artificial limb design.”
He pushes his tongue into his cheek and turns his head to one side. Is he laughing at me?
“Come on, you,” he says. “Stop putting off getting on this thing and trying to pedal.”
I scowl at him as I walk over to where he’s holding the bike the instructor gave us. I grip the handlebars, swinging a leg over with a confidence I don’t feel, and I lift one foot. It tips dangerously, so I put it back down again. “How do you even balance on this thing?” I grump.
He’s pressing his lips together now like he’s still struggling not to laugh.
“I’m going to hold the seat and you’re going to raise both feet up, okay?” he says.
He stands behind me, and I stare across the asphalt outside the training center. A woman wobbles precariously on a bike to my right.
“Don’t look at what other people are doing,” James adds.
“Tell me something you’re really scared of.”
“Like jumping off a building?”
Ice constricts my lungs.What the goddamn …Why did he say that?Des found him on his roof!Jesus Christ, I did not expect him to go there, never mind say that tome.
“Yeah,” I say, lifting my feet. “Just like that.”
He pushes forward and the pedals move—why, I have no idea—so I hastily slap my feet on them. We’re moving slowly, and my legs go round and round as I grip the handlebars as if my life depends on it.
“Couldn’t do it,” he mutters. He’s behind me now, so I can’t see his face. “I looked over that edge and knew how much it would hurt. So I’m a chicken. I don’t like medical stuff and the thought of hitting the ground …” His voice trails off, and I hardly dare breathe. I can almost feel his shudder through the bike.
“Could you do it with a parachute?” I say.
What the fuck did you say that for?Leap into the surreal, Sadie, why don’t you? That sounds like a brilliant idea.
Her code is a path on a map leading her ever forward. The girl finds an infinite string, and it opens above her like an umbrella and savesher life.
“Maybe. It’s the going over the edge that’s difficult. What happens if you change your mind halfway down?” he says.
“Yeah, you have to have an escape route, don’t you?”
“Always. You always need that.”
“I sometimes wonder what dying would be like,” I say, and I want to groan at myself all over again.Open mouth, engage brain later.“You know, so many people die in fantasy books, and it’s almost casual the way people write about it.”
“Yeah,” he says, sounding distant now, like perhaps hedoesn’twant to talk about it. But screw it, I’ve said it now, so I might as well go all in. I wobble a bit but keep pedaling as the idea takes hold.
“I don’t think they should write about death that way. It ought to be as messy and awful as it is in real life, with weeping relatives and horrible injuries. Somebody dies, and—boom—they’re written out of the story. And you can’t help but wonder, where are all the consequences? You never see some knight or fantastic being rushed to the ER or slogging through rehab, or facing a long and complicated court case for murder, do you? What do you think?”
“You’re doing great!”
His voice is fucking miles away. I shriek, and the wheels wobble. I lurch to the side, trying to put a foot out to save myself, but I’m going too fast, and before I know it, the bike goes right over and I land on my hip, sprawling on my back on the asphalt. Running footsteps thud toward me.
The bastard let go of me just as I was warming up to my idea!
His dark curls and grinning face appear over me. “Are you having a rest down there?”
“You let go of me, you asshole.”
His grin widens so much that it takes over his whole face. “Well, I knew you’d go on and on about books forever, so I thought you wouldn’t notice if I let go and you got a good ride in.”
