Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
The whole point, after all, is that you’re leaving the plane behind.
Avery scurries into the back corner of the mostly bare cargo interior, her movements jittery, her breathing a little shallow. Her fanny pack bounces against her hip as she adjusts the chest buckle of our tandem harness, yanking at it like it’s trying to strangle her.
She lets out a deep, heaving breath—one of those first-jump, holy-shit-I’m-really-doing-this breaths—and I can’t help but glance over at her. For someone so clearly on edge, she looks infuriatingly beautiful. Her dark hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, cheekbones high, lips full, eyes sharp even as they dart around the cabin.
I pretend to focus on the window instead.
The engine climbs to a roar as Mario floors it down the runway, and I hold on to the handle at the side of the door to steady myself as our wheels leave the ground and we ascend into the air. Clouds trail by and fog rolls water beads over the glass of the windows as we make our way into the sky, and I climb forward on my knees to watch out the windshield as we float out over the ocean.
Boats make white lines of wake in the water below us, and colored flags fly in the wind of the beach as umbrellas and chairs take shape in the sand.
I take a seat behind Mario and watch with avid interest as he flips switches on and off and messes with the whole panel of controls. In the center, I notice the radar screen that marks where other planes are around us, but beyond that, the whole instrumentation panel is pretty much beyond my comprehension.
Back in my early twenties, I considered going to flight school and getting my pilot’s license a couple of times, but in the end, it seemed counterintuitive to my ultimate desire to be the one doing the skydiving. I still find it interesting, but watching Mario now, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit how complicated and stressful it all looks.
He tries to talk to me a little, but with English being his second language and my only having four years of Spanish in high school, I still struggle to keep up. I have a feeling a lot of it has to do with the Spanish translation of airplane terminology not being at the top of my classes’ priority list.
In the end, we settle for companionable silence and, occasionally, pantomiming with our hands.
I glance back at Avery a couple of times during the first thirty minutes of airtime and then again about fifteen minutes later. She’s fidgeting even more now, and I smirk lightly at the way she mumbles to herself and fusses with her pretty hair.
It’s been over a decade since I made my first jump out of a plane, but I can still remember the tingle in my chest and the flapping in my stomach. Hell, I can even remember the taste of bile as it teased the back of my throat and feel the pinch of my nerves firing in the tips of my fingers.
It goes against nearly all basic human instinct to hurl yourself out of a perfectly good aircraft, but a millisecond into the free fall when you first hit the air, you understand why you did. It’s cathartic and cosmic and out-of-body in a way I’ve made my living selling to people all over the world.
To be untouchable, if even for just a moment, is a feeling that changes you.
Avery isn’t exactly my target audience, but with her relatively narrow worldview and silver-spoon upbringing at the forefront of her every action, I can’t wait to see how the experience changes her when it’s over. It’s an intrinsic lesson in just how small we are in the scale of the world.
Still, I understand completely why she’s nervous, so I move toward her to try to help her settle.
“You doing okay?” I ask, squatting down in front of her and checking the fit of her harness straps myself. They’re tight, but I give another yank on both sides for good measure. Her body jerks, and her already-big hazel eyes widen.
“I cannot freaking believe I’m doing this,” Avery admits, the wild wind and noise of the prop making her voice sound corrugated. “All those injectables in my face, and for what? Plunging toward the earth is going to ruin my structure completely! And the wrinkles! My God.”
I laugh. “Your face will look funny during the free fall, but it’s hardly permanent.” I wink, posing in something akin to Zoolander’s expression. “Look at me. Fresh as a fucking newborn, and I’ve jumped thousands of times.”
She rolls her eyes, worrying her full bottom lip with her teeth. She’s panicking, not that she’d ever admit it.
“You’re going to be okay. I promise. I’ll take care of you.” I squeeze her knee. “We’ll strap in together, and you won’t even have to do anything but hold on. I’ll handle everything.”