The Fall

short fiction

Photo by Jared Rice on Unsplash

The jump is harder than the fall.

The jump is harder.

I let his words fill my head, drowning out the crashing water of the falls and the swirling current below. Thirty feet below. My toes clench against the wet granite. My skin, thickened by goosebumps, aches to be back in my clothes. But I left them at the bottom, before the climb. A reward for my bravery. A warm hug, waiting to take me home.

I close my eyes and drift until I can almost hear their voices. Can see their bare arms waving up at me. Mark and Hunter, buck naked, barely covering themselves with one hand as they cheer me on with the other. Alice and Marisol, who—like me—had the foresight to wear swimsuits under their clothes, performing a shoddy rendition of our cheerleading team’s “Another One Bites the Dust” routine. And Jada. In her red lace bra and matching thong, stretched out like a centerfold, giving Mark his fifth boner of the day, which is probably giving Hunter one, too.  

I force a smil…