Be brave, I tell myself.Youarebrave.
I step out over the edge, fumble with the toe of my shoe until it feels steady against the rock. I let out just enough slack on the rope to get me fully over the edge—and before I know it, I’m leaning all the way back, standing on the side of the cliff and facing the intense blue sky.
I haven’t fallen. I’m not a splat…not yet.
Have fun and don’t die!Caden’s voice echoes in my head, and I grit my teeth.
“You don’t have to grip it quite that tightly,” I hear Thorn say, but it doesn’t register that he’s talking tomeuntil he says my name. “Sadie? Take a deep breath, okay?”
I find his eyes, do what he says.
The deep breath helps. I take another.
The sooner I get moving, the sooner this will be over.The worst part is over, I remind myself, and it actually helps—I did the hard part. I took the step of faith. Now I just have to finish.
I step backward, one small movement at a time, focusing on only the things I can control: how I handle the rope, how I handle my fear.
It’s all good until about halfway down, when the rope suddenly gives a small but sudden downward jerk.
My pulse picks up; my hands cling so tightly they might just go numb soon. I look around wildly for Thorn, see his face peering over from the top.
“What wasthat?!” I try to call out—but the words get stuck, and I can’t swallow them down because my throat suddenly feels too dry and too tight, and I can’t get a deep breath, and it’s all starting to spiral.
Stepping over the edge wasnotthe hardest part. Not by far. Panic attack halfway down the side of a cliff while your life feels like it’s hanging on by a climbing rope–sized thread? This is way, way worse.
I might throw up.
“You’re fine, Sadie, everything’s fine!” Thorn is yelling from far above me. “Hunter tripped over the cord, but it’s still totally stable. You’re good. Take a deep breath and keep going, okay?”
I practice my panic-attack breathing: slow inhale through the nose, long exhale back out again. I try to ground myself in the moment, thinking of things I can see—blue sky, stupid flimsy rope, the face of a guy I’d really love to kiss again if I make it to the bottom in one piece.
WhenI make it to the bottom, I correct myself.
Little by little, the tension evaporates, enough that I feel brave enough to get moving again. A moment later, though, a bit of the cliff crumbles under my foot—it’s just dirt and rock, I think, sediment knocked loose. The surprise of it catches me off guard, wrecking my balance—I’m flailing—
I reach out a hand, try to stabilize, but my palm finds something sharp. A rock, or maybe a branch? It hurts likefire—and I’m pretty sure I’m bleeding.
Deep breaths, deep breaths.
I can’t believe people do this sort of thing for fun.
“You’re almost here,” Matteo calls out from down below. “You never have to do this again—but you’re doing great, okay?”
Matteo has hardly said a thing to me in the last few days—awkwardness by association, I guess. Still, his encouragement is just what I need to kick it into high gear and finally get to the bottom. Descending with only one good hand is uncomfortable, but at least it’s a distraction to keep my mind from spiraling.
I rip the harness off as soon as my feet are back on solid ground.
“You did it!” Matteo says, reaching up for a high five, his smile so contagious I almost forget the gash in my hand, and the blood, and the way I truly feel like all the coffee and lunch I had earlier might be on the verge of coming back up.
I’m still reeling from the adrenaline when Thorn appears at my side.
“Are you okay?” he says, breathless from sprinting down the cliff’s rocky staircase.
I hold up my hand and watch as his eyes go wide at the sight of all the blood.
He mutters a curse under his breath. “That looks like hell,” he says, brow furrowed and intense. “I’ll get you cleaned up, okay? Wait here.”
A few minutes later, Thorn finds his way back to me.
