Page 44 of The Best Worst Mistake
Once the engine fires up, the plane jolts forward before falling into a steady hum, slowly coursing toward the runway.
Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to jump from the planenow, while it’s still on solid ground.
Trek, another guy we met back at the hangar during our safety briefing, is sitting on the floor of the plane too, hunched near the door. I’m not sure what his role is besides operating the door and making sure we’re all fastened properly to each other before careening our bodies outside.
I shudder, realizing that it would take just one of these thick straps or buckles to malfunction for me to dislodge from Jett and plummet to the ground alone, without a backup parachute on my own body to save me. I nestle in closer to my tandem partner,more thankful now for his solid frame behind me. I realize that it’s been a minute since I was tucked in so closely to a man like this, and I’d prefer the circumstances to be so much different than they are right now.
The pilot pushes forward on the throttle, steadily picking up speed, making my stomach dip back into my spine. The propellers roar, and I can hardly hear anyone around me as the tiny engine starts racing us faster down the runway.
I’m having an out-of-body experience. I can’t possibly be sitting in Switzerland, flying down a runway, completely out of my own control in this moment.
The nose of the plane starts to lift, much faster than any large commercial jet I’ve been on, and within seconds, we’re airborne.
My ears pop as the wheels dislodge from the runway and begin to glide up toward the clouds, racing faster as we really pick up in altitude, suddenly tipping left to avoid the mountain range that has been growing steadily closer through the windshield.
It feels like I’m being pushed into the floor under a deep surge of water. My head spins from the sheer force of gravity, and I lean into Jett as the Gs take hold, dragging us down from below. I close my eyes. But that’s a bad idea when a stronger wave of dizziness rolls through me. I force my eyes back open, but keep my gaze focused on the interior of the plane which seems to be spinning slightly with vertigo.
“Look out the window!” Jett calls into my ear, like he can tell from behind that I’m losing focus to brain fog right now from the force of gravity as we push up toward the sky.
I obey.
Looking out the little window next to me, I’m instantly hit with a postcard view sent from heaven — like a swift spiritual awakening has taken hold of anything left in me. The tiny plane’sinterior fades from sight and the world around us takes over. Jagged, snow-capped mountain peaks, as far as my eyes can see, flank two turquoise lakes below. Each body of water reflects the mountain range beside it, and the sun beyond that, like a perfect mirror image against the smooth blue surface. I hold my hand up to the window, comparing the color of my grandmother’s turquoise ring to the blue-green hue of the water. Grant was right. It’s a near-perfect match. I’ve never seen anything so awe-inspiring, and for a few precious minutes, I forget why we’re on this plane at all, simply grateful to be here, losing sight of the fact that I won’t be sitting on it when it comes in for a landing.
I turn to look out the other window and catch Silas watching me instead of the view. He breaks into a grin, knowing he’s been caught, then quickly squeezes my forearm before letting go, just like he did on his plane yesterday, except this time it’s oddly comforting instead of just plain annoying.
“I’m glad you decided to come!” he shouts over the ruckus of the engine. “You won’t regret jumping!”
My insides twist at the wordjumping,quickly bringing my body and mind back into the reality of why we’re on this plane.To jump.Or, in my case, to fall out the side once Jett makes up his mind to go.
I force a tight-lipped smile, but continue to look out the window without answering.
“Twelve hundred meters,” the pilot says into his mouthpiece that feeds the speakers in the back of the plane.
Jett jostles me between his knees.
“Feel good?” he shouts into my ear. I can’t see him, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
I lean back and yell, “Maybe? I don’t know!”
“Eighteen hundred meters,” the pilot states calmly into loudspeakers a few minutes later.
Silas grins at me like a little boy.
“You’ve got this!” he shouts.
“What were we thinking?” I yell back, but the noise of the engine devours my voice.
“That we wanted to live!” he shouts. Then he winks at me, reminding me that this is what Grant had truly wanted for both of us.
“Tolive! Notdie!” I mouth the last word, nervously.
“Don’t saydie!” he yells, clasping a hand over his mouth after the last word is out, but his eyes still sparkle over the top of his hand, like he knows the superstition is mine, and only mine.
I widen my eyes back at him.Insufferable Silas. Now is not the time to be making jokes about dying.
“Twenty-four hundred meters,” the pilot announces.
My stomach takes another lurch toward the ground nearly eight thousand feet below. I thought it would take much longer to reach proper jumping altitude, but I’m quickly realizing that we’re going to be hopping out sooner than I hoped.
