How It Feels to Fly(89)

“Amateur,” she scoffs. “Okay, before you hang up, I have to give you your top-secret mission.”

We’ve all been challenging one another to do things that scare us. And to provide evidence, if possible. A few days ago, Katie sent us a blurry photo of herself, midflip, on the balance beam. She had one of her teammates take it. She captioned it “Bear Gets Back on the Horse.” Meanwhile, Jenna’s supposed to tape herself at practice and send us the raw footage—even if she screws up—and Dominic’s supposed to send us a screenshot when he emails Florida State to schedule a campus visit.

“Is this new roommate of yours smaller than you?” Zoe asks.

“Yeah.”

“We’re going to need a picture of the two of you together. In your tightest dance clothes. No hiding. No slouching. Got it?”

I make a face, but I say, “Got it.”

“You have forty-eight hours to complete your mission. This message will self-destruct, blah blah blah. Later, Barbs.”

“Bye, Thelma.” I hang up.

I let my phone charge for a few more minutes. I fold the dance clothes I went through this morning, trying to pick the right first-day-of-class outfit. I tidy my desk. Put away my new journal and pens. Then I glance at the bulletin board on the wall. I’ve tacked up my ballerina collage, the one I ripped in half. There’s a tape line running down the center now. I almost like it better this way. Imperfect, like me. Uneven seams and raw edges and still reaching.

Next to the collage, there’s a photo of a tiny red balloon, barely a pinprick in the vast blue sky. Since I missed the last day at Perform at Your Peak, I had to release it on my own. I tied a piece of paper with the words “Take the leap” to its tail and let go. Feeling the string slip past my fingertips was like exhaling for the first time.

The only other picture I’ve put up is one Katie emailed me. It’s our whole group on the ropes course, at the very highest point, backed by sky and treetops. Katie’s arm is across my shoulder. Jenna’s next to us, smiling primly but not touching. Dominic has Omar in a fake headlock. They’re both mugging for the camera. Zoe is in the background, arms crossed, wearing her perma-smirk.

At the bottom of the picture is a shadow. The head and shoulders of the person holding the camera.

Andrew.

I know Katie sent me this picture because he isn’t in it, but I’m glad that trace of him is there. When I look at the photo, I see everything that mattered about that place. And Andrew mattered. He matters. Even if we never meet again.

I study my own image in the photo. I’m sweaty and frizzy. The ropes-course harness is squeezing my body in strange ways. There are lumps and rolls that shouldn’t be there. I’m squinting into the light. And I’m smiling.

“Sam, we’re leaving!” Suzanne, from the hallway.

I unplug my phone. Slip on my sandals and grab my messenger bag. Bounce up and down a few times to shake away a burst of nerves. And then I swing the door open and step out into what’s next.





acknowledgments


IT MAY BE A CLICHé TO SAY IT TAKES A VILLAGE TO publish a book, but for this particular book, it’s absolutely true. I could not be more grateful to my own little village of publishing pros, fellow writers, friends, and family members for helping me get this book out of my brain and onto the shelves.

Thanks to my agent, Alyssa Eisner Henkin, for brainstorming with me and encouraging me to find the best possible version of my “dancer with body-image issues” idea. This book would not be what it is without your initial guidance and your support throughout its journey.

Thanks to my editor, Alexandra Cooper, whose insightful notes helped me push myself and my characters and dig deeper into the book’s soul. Your comments gave me what I needed to turn an uncooperative, meandering manuscript into a finished product I’m proud to have written. Thanks also to Alyssa Miele and the rest of the team at HarperTeen: art director Erin Fitzsimmons and designer Katie Fitch, production editor Renée Cafiero, production managers Allison Brown and Lillian Sun, marketing manager Kim VandeWater and marketing assistant Lauren Kostenberger, and publicist Olivia Russo. It’s a privilege to have all of you working on and with my book.

I would be lost without my writer community. Huge thanks to Michael Ann Dobbs, Heather Demetrios, Ghenet Myrthil, Lauren Morrill, and Jodi Kendall, who read and critiqued drafts of this book at various points during the process. You provided both the positive reinforcement and the kick in the pants I needed to get through revision after revision. On the support and cheerleading front, thanks go out to the Fearless Fifteeners, the YA Buccaneers, and all the other writers in my life. It’s so great to feel like we’re on this crazy ride together.

One of the earliest seeds of inspiration for this book came from a freelance article I wrote for Dance Spirit magazine a few years ago. For that article, I interviewed sport psychologist and mental-skills coach Justin Su’a—and he was kind enough to act as a resource when I was first mapping out this book as well. Psychologist Dr. Nadine Kaslow, who has worked with dancers at Atlanta Ballet, and nutrition therapist Anastasia Nevin, who has worked in eating-disorder-treatment settings, also answered questions as I researched this project. When the manuscript was complete, Stephanie Kuehn read the whole thing and offered notes on the clinical-treatment elements. Thank you all for sharing your expertise with me. The finished product is so much better for it.