For a moment he doesn’t respond and there’s nothing but the steady hum of the car rumbling up the hill and the dull crash of waves below.
“No …” Grant’s voice breaks through, hoarse with disbelief. “No, no, no …”
I steer toward the cliff’s point and wedge the weight against the gas pedal, and we start to gain speed. “There’s a smooth patch of grass up ahead,” I call back as I unbuckle my seat belt and push my door open. The night air howls as we tear through it. “I’ll count us off, and then we jump.”
“Jump?”
“Out of the car.”
“But it’s moving!”
“I know,” I shout over the whipping wind. “That’s why you’re not going to want to be in it in about fifteen seconds.”
He issues a stream of curses as he fumbles over his seat belt and opens the door.
“I’m going to be sick,” he groans.
“You’re going to be fine,” I shout. “I took a stunt class on a trip to LA once. Just, like, tuck and roll.” I gauge the distance to the cliff and turn to face my open door. The grass flies by in a dizzying rush, and a familiar exhilaration lights me up as my heart rate climbs with the speedometer. “Okay, get ready. One—”
“No!”
“Two—”
“Fuuuuuuuuck.”
“THREE! JUMP!”
I throw myself into the night and land with a thud, rolling like a log along the grass. I rush to orient myself, looking up just in time to see the car speed over the path and go airborne off the cliff’s edge. Everything freezes in the moment after it disappears from view, until I hear it—a weighty, thunderous splash.
I collapse with relief onto the ground, taking a moment to catch my breath. And then I remember Grant and pop up to look for him. He’s sprawled in a shadowy heap several yards from me, groaning in pain, and I hurry to him.
“Grant? You okay?”
In the moonlight, his grimace warps with fear as I approach.
“Stay away from me,” he sputters, recoiling. He scrambles as if to crab-walk away from me but winces and crumples back down.
“Did you hurt your leg?”
His expression turns incredulous. “Ididn’t hurt anything.Youforced me to jump out of a speeding car.”
“I told you to tuck and roll! It’s not my fault if you landedwrong.” As I step forward to get a better look, he flinches. “For the millionth time, I’m not going to hurt you.” He glares at me and I roll my eyes. “… Onpurpose.”
He hauls himself to a seated position, then clumsily stands. He’s taller than I realized now that he’s not huddled in fear in the back seat. Normally, I bet he could hightail it out of here and leave me in the dust; as it is, he tries to take a step and falters. I grab him before he goes down.
“Here,” I say, trying for soothing tones. “I’ll help you. We just have to get to that house over there and then we can get you some ice or something. Okay?” I brace an arm around his waist and pull his stiff arm over my shoulders for support.
After a reluctant silence, he grumbles, “Which house?”
“That one.” I point down the hill to the shadowy block at the far edge of the point. “The cute one with the big beech tree out back. Excellent climbing tree. Highly recommend if your ankle’s not broken.”
From his silence, I’m thinking he’s not in the mood.
The journey to the house isn’t an easy one, what with the steep hill and the fact that Grant is somewhat incapacitated, but we hobble along. He holds on to me in a tense, careful way, keeping as much space between our bodies as possible, like he’s playing along for survival but prepared to speed-limp away if I do anything scary.
When we arrive, I stoop to retrieve the spare key from under an empty flower pot.
Like its neighbors, Camp Donnelly has been shuttered for the season, and the resulting darkness inside is thick and musty. It’s a far cry from its open, breezy summer self, all lemonade in the kitchen and seagulls scrabbling on the roof, but it feels safe nonetheless.
