Because You Love to Hate Me(12)

“Want to know a secret?” Jack says. “I used to be scared of everything until I was fourteen. I couldn’t cross the street without nearly having a heart attack.”

I don’t believe it.

“But then I went with my uncle to that rain forest and we ate that python, and lo and behold. New man.”

The python story is one of Jack’s more believable ones, but I’m not sure about the instant transformation.

Jack points to his head. “I think a lot of it is in here. It’s human nature. How we’re built.”

But I’m not human. And anyway, giants don’t push, don’t test the limits, don’t strive to conquer—at least, not anymore. Somewhere along the line, we recognized when things got hopeless.

“I’m summering on Martha’s Vineyard,” Jack says, “and a boy I know tattooed a toad’s head onto his chest.”

I start.

Jack goes on. “And this is a boy who never in a million years would consider getting a tattoo. It was his breakout moment, when he got outside himself. But it wasn’t some horrible tattoo that did it.” Jack points to his temple again.

A toad’s head tattoo. Even the best artist can’t save that one. “Maybe the tattoo was just a bad life choice.”

Jack shakes his head. “No, I saw him out more, at the theater, different restaurants, beach bonfires.” Jack leans in and grins. “Then one day he disappeared. He finally broke out. He hated living there, on the Vineyard. So I think it did the trick.”

“I need a breakout moment,” I whisper. High above the earth, all of us giants do.

Jack hops to his feet and strides toward the lookout platform at the cloudline. “Come on!”

Just the notion of going all the way out to the platform adds tons to my feet, but I stand and slowly walk after him. Still, when I get to the farthest point I’ve ever ventured, which is where I was when I flung the bags of beans to the earth below, I stop. Jack, however, is there, jumping up and down.

“You’re almost here,” he calls from the platform. “If I can do it . . .”

I want to, but I just . . . I can’t. The thought of standing at the cloudline, staring down at that vast unknown . . . It’s almost physical, this inability to move.

Jack rushes over, his eyes determined as a TV general’s. “Your legs will feel shaky, but don’t let your mind trick you into not trusting your body, not trusting yourself. Even climbing Mount Everest starts with a single step. You can do this.”

I can do this.

Can’t I?

I take a step, then another. Jack hoots and backs away, looking like one of those ridiculous parents in those diaper commercials, watching their kids toddle for the first time.

It’s breezier at the platform. I take a step up and wobble even when my feet are rooted to the stone.

“It’s all in your head,” Jack says. “Just a little closer to the railing.”

I can do this.

I raise a shaky hand and grab the railing.

“Just a peek,” Jack says.

I lower my head, but before I can see anything, I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m gripping the railing so hard I swear I might break it.

Jack says, “Look down.” But when I throw my eyes open, I look straight ahead.

Jack whoops and I jerk my head down to see him jumping onto the railing. He throws his arms above his head. His eyes are hard and wild and it’s enough to send me stumbling back off the platform.

Unlike Jack, I’m not interested in plunging to my death. Jack doesn’t understand because Jack isn’t a safe boy.

Another part of me doesn’t want to always be safe, either. If my people are going to be great again, we can’t hide behind safe anymore. My body’s buzzing and my fingers twitch and my eyes burn. We deserve so much more. But I’m not brave enough to lead my people anywhere.

I take a step back. Another. Another.

Jack jogs over. “Next time, then.” He looks at me with steely eyes gone soft. “Next time you’ll look down. There’s plenty to see. You’ll love it, I promise.”

I nod, defeated and trying not to look it. “It’s just . . . kind of cold, that’s all.”

“Definitely. I was getting cold, too,” Jack says. “Fireplace? You could work on your chair.” He rubs his arms vigorously, even though we both know it’s pretty warm up here, the magicked atmosphere and all.

He’s a kind liar.

We head back to the castle, and all I can think about is how badly I want to be like Jack, how badly I want an all-cares-to-the-wind risk-taker inside of me, too.

But there isn’t.





“You’re already here. You’ve done the hard part.” Beside me, Jack laughs. “All you have to do now is open your eyes.”

It’s the first time Jack has been back in a month, and the first thing he did when he got here was ask me to take him back to Lookout South. I only gave in because he wouldn’t shut up about it.

“There’s a special desert I’d like to visit,” Jack says breezily. “Rocks are said to slide across the baked earth on their own.”

I’ve got a tight grip around the railing and my eyes are shut, just like they’ve been the entire five minutes we’ve been standing here. It was easier making it out to the platform this second time, but now that I’m here, my body betrays me. My hands shake and my legs feel like they’re about to float off with the wind, and the only thing keeping me from keeling over is my royal pride.