While she rattles off more tips, Ophelia steps to the wall.
23
OPHELIA
Climbers’chalk coats the easiest handholds, each white spot like an angel guiding me along my way. I grab the two closest to my head, look down to find a foothold, and hold my breath. The harness secured tightly around my waist provides a small sense of security, but it does little to quell the intense anxiety that grips me.
Ignoring what Mila said, I use my arms to pull myself up, lifting and dragging my feet along the wall until I find a footing. If I climb with my feet, I’ll have to look down. And then I’ll chicken out.
This side of the wall is only about twenty feet high and slopes inward as it rises, allowing gravity to help me lean onto the rock. A third of the way up, my arms shake, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
What am I doing up here?
“It’s okay,” Mila chides, “you’re doing great!”
Her words frustrate me more, and I open my eyes, quickly moving for the next hold. In my rush, I don’t get a good enough grip. My right arm slips, following quickly by my right foot. It slides out beneath me and my body slams into the rock, dangling only by my left arm. After a few seconds, that shoulder gives out, sending me down the wall a few inches until the rope catches me. My skin flares with fresh cuts from the jagged rock.
The sound of my breathing reverberates in my ears, a reminder of the fear pulsing through my veins. I feel the strain in my muscles and the tension in my body as I cling to the rock face desperately. My mind is a battleground, a tug-of-war between the desire to give in to my fear and the determination to not embarrass myself in front of Adam, Mila, and a crowd of kids.
“Do you want me to bring you down?” Adam’s tone is short, snapping like a whip.
For some reason, I want to prove to him I’m not completely hopeless in his world, and I start back up the wall with wobbling hands. And after a lifetime and a half, I reach the last anchor. Elation spreads through me.
Then the panic sets in.
My knees and hands shake violently, and I hold tight to the wall, my fingers and arms flaring with stress. Below me, someone is trying to give instructions, but I can’t hear them through the buzzing in my head.
Maybe I can just stay up here forever.
I peek down, hoping that I might be able to read the lips of whoever is trying to direct me. The earth looks impossibly far away, and it seems to sink lower, lower,lower, my vision going spotty. I catch Adam’s eye. He furrows his eyebrows, and even from way up here, I can see the edge of his jaw straining.
All at once, I lose my footing again, and I grab the rope by my face, letting go of the wall completely. The rope catches me, but not before I slip down six inches, scraping my arms harder this time and slamming the side of my head against the rock in my scramble. My helmet bears the brunt of the hit, but a sharp outcrop of rock slices against my cheek. I pull my legs up, searching for a ledge, a gap,anythingto give me stability. I can’t find a footing, so I curl into a ball, hanging from the rope like an insect caught in a web. A trickle of warm blood runs down my face, hitting the corner of my mouth and filling it with the taste of iron.
I’m sure there’s a string of curses falling from my mouth, but I can’t seem to stop it. Hopefully, the German kids won’t be familiar with my deep cuts of English swears. The minutes tick by until there’s a hand high on my back. I wince against it, unwilling to open my eyes.
“You’re alright.” Adam’s voice cuts through the static, calm and slow. “Mila can’t let you down unless you push against the wall with your legs, otherwise you’ll get dragged all along the rock.”
“It’s a little late for that.”
Adam touches my elbow, spinning me just enough so he can inspect my arm. “We’ll get you fixed up. But first, we need to get you down. You can do it. You don’t even have to open your eyes.” He grabs my hips to steady them. “Step against the wall and lean back a bit. I’ve got you.”
“I don’t need your help,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I know.”
With Adam’s hands guiding me, I do as I’m told, knees quivering.
“Good. Now, you’re going to step down, one foot at a time. Take as long as you need.”
I take a half step, but my upper body sways back toward the rock. An involuntary yelp slips from my mouth. Immediately, Adam moves one hand to my shoulder, keeping the other at my hip.
Miraculously, we reach the ground. I sit at once. My vision is spinning wildly. Add that to the rambunctious laughter from the children, and it feels like I’m trapped in a carnival funhouse complete with dizzying visuals and maniacal clowns.
Adam stands behind me and pushes my shoulders back so I can lean against his legs. “Mila, you guys go ahead and do your thing. I’m going to help Ophelia get cleaned up.”
I try to stand, ignoring the nausea still swirling in my stomach. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Little late for that." Adam spins my words back to me. “Come on.”