How It Feels to Fly(31)

I make a face back. Yesterday afternoon I actually felt a little sorry for Zoe. She seemed genuinely upset. But this morning, when I woke her up, she cursed me out and threw her pillow at me. And while we were getting harnessed to start the high ropes, she called out, “Hey, Sam—be honest, does this outfit make me look fat?”

When I reach the top of the net, the ropes-course facilitator pulls me up onto the platform. I sit, feet dangling, to catch my breath. Zoe’s the next one up. “Little help?” she gasps. I think about pretending I didn’t hear her. But she was there for me when I lost my footing, even if she won’t admit it, so I give her a hand.

“Thanks,” she grunts.

“No problem.”

The ropes course is supposed to be helping us continue to build teamwork and trust. Dr. Lancaster also said we’d see, in action, how people have different natural strengths. It’s supposed to give us perspective. Help us see that even though there will be things other people do better than us, there are also things we do better than them.

And it’s supposed to be fun. I’m not yet convinced. At least I’m burning calories.

Andrew’s waiting by the next obstacle: a suspension bridge with slats missing, straight out of an Indiana Jones movie. It’s swaying in the breeze. But there’s a cable across the top that we hook our harnesses to, so I guess there’s no chance we can fall.

Still, just before I take that first step, I freeze.

You’re too heavy. You’re going to break it.

I can see it in my mind’s eye. The plank snapping under my foot. Me dangling, helpless, from the harness. Everyone pointing and laughing.

I look over to the other side. Dominic is already there. He’s bigger and heavier than me, by a lot, and he didn’t break the bridge. So why can’t I move?

“All right, Sam?” Andrew asks.

I nod. I’m being an idiot. I take a deep breath and race across the bridge. On the other side, I wait next to Dominic. He’s looking out over the ropes course. With his resolute face and the way his dark curls are fluttering in the wind, he looks like the captain of a ship. Then I notice how tightly he’s gripping the safety railing.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

He startles, like he didn’t realize I was there. “Huh? Oh. Yeah, I’m great.”

I look down at his hands.

“I don’t like heights. So sue me.” He points across the course at a set of suspended balance beams. “But I was looking at that. Think Katie knows it’s coming?”

“Should we warn her?”

“I dunno. Maybe it’s part of the deal that she’s not supposed to have time to obsess.”

When Katie crosses the Indiana Jones bridge and comes to stand next to us, I make a decision. I wouldn’t want someone to thrust me into a dance studio filled with fun-house mirrors with no warning. “Katie . . .” I point, and she looks.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Dr. Lancaster and I talked about it yesterday.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

She nods. “I think so.”

I give her arm an encouraging squeeze. “You’ll do great.”

“Totally,” Dominic says from my other side.

Next, the guy in charge of the course has us cross a suspended-tire bridge. Then we follow him down a rock wall, across a low tightrope with a cable above it to help us balance, and up again, via a series of platforms and movable ladders.

I’m sweating so much. My hands are cramping. So are my quads. But I am having a pretty good time. It’s nice to be outside, in the sunshine, getting exercise. And I see what Dr. Lancaster meant about different people being good at different things. I have good balance; when I stop thinking about how I’m going to break them, I can cross the wobbly bridges and planks with ease. Dominic’s a fast climber, when he doesn’t look down. Zoe seems fearless, but she’s slower. Katie’s upper body is stronger than her lower body; she pulls herself up the obstacles using more arm than leg. Jenna is agile and quick, though not as strong. And Omar—I think his specialty might be “anything that is not a ropes course.” He’s bringing up the rear, but Yasmin stays by his side just like Bianca did for me back in eighth grade.

When we reach the highest platform in the whole course, we take a group photo and then break for lunch. Yasmin and Andrew hand out water bottles and brown paper lunch bags. I eat my sandwich fast, my back turned to everyone else, and wash it down with gulp after gulp of cool water. I wish I had another bottle to dump over my head.

Andrew squats next to me. “Hey, Sam. Having fun?”

“Surprisingly, yes. And it’s a good workout, too.” I pluck at my sweat-drenched shirt. “Though I’m pretty sure I’m starting to stink.”

Andrew sniffs the air. “Nope. I smell nothing.”

There are a lot of things that leave me a nervous, self-conscious wreck, but body odor isn’t one of them—I guess because even skinny people can smell bad. “It smells like nature out here,” I say, laughing, “so you can’t smell me.”

Andrew laughs too. “I doubt you ever have serious BO.”

I shake my head. “Ballet dancers are gross.”

“Really?”

“You think we sweat rose petals? My dance bag smells like something died in it. With baby powder on top.”