Page 62 of It's in the Contract
Suzy hadto go help her parents at Korea House, and I was sorry to see her go, but also just having Zeke here to witness my humiliation is bad enough. Suzy knows about my fear, and she’s always been understanding about it, but still.
And luckily Caroline is home now, so we were able to swing by Zeke’s house and drop Mia off before heading to our next destination.
Zeke and I stand at the base of the Space Needle, looking up. “It goes up so high . . .” I trail off, my breath stuck in my throat. The air has cooled now that the afternoon is turning into evening, and I shiver in my peacoat. A chill wind rustles the trees that line the parking lot, and people crowd around the doors to enter the building.
The base of the needle is wide, but it narrows into a peak with an oblong sphere at the top. I assume that’s where people gather to take in the view. Looking at it makes my stomach spin.
Zeke stands close by, closer than he needs to, probably to comfort me with his presence. It works . . . a little. “It’s amazing,” Zeke says. “I can see why people want to go up.”
There’s a line of people walking in, getting tickets and taking the glass elevator to the top, and getting an amazing view. Like it’s no big deal.
I breathe in and out, but my hands are already shaking. “I—I may have lost the notebook with our contract,” I say. “I’m so sorry, Zeke. I never take it out of my bag. I’ll find it, I’ll?—”
“Callie.” Zeke reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. An electric zing shoots up and down my arm. “It’s okay. We don’t need it. We remember everything on the list, right?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “But if someone finds it . . .” I practically choke on the word, fear clogging my voice.
Zeke shrugs. “It looks like an ordinary notebook, right? They probably wouldn’t go rifling through it.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” My voice shakes.
Zeke looks at me, and I feel mortified.
“Callie, we don’t have to do this. We saw the Space Needle. It’s cool. Let’s go.”
“I want to do this,” I say, surprisingly myself. I take another deep breath, trying to stop my hands from shaking and my heart from hammering. “I can do this.”
I helped Zeke face his fear of spiders. Well, sort of. But I want to do this. For me.
I take a step toward the building. Then another. Before I know it, we’re inside in a large atrium with a crowd of people listening to a tour guide explain what the Space Needle is and handing out pamphlets encouraging people to explore Seattle.
Zeke heads to the counter to buy our tickets. I focus on the people, studying their carefree faces, anything but looking at theglass elevator that’s going to take us up to the top. What is wrong with me? We’re still on the ground. I should be fine. I’m fine.
Zeke returns with the tickets. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He looks at me with a tender expression.
“Yes.” I steel myself. “I want to.”
Zeke puts a hand on my arm. “You can do anything. I know you can. Spider-slayer.”
I roll my eyes, but I appreciate his attempt to comfort me. Zeke lowers his hand, and we join the crowd of people being herded into the elevator. Holy crap. The floor and walls are glass.Focus on the people. Focus on the people.“Is that my new nickname now?”
Zeke chuckles. That’s such a weird word. Chuckle.
The elevator fills up, and we are shoved closer and closer together until my body is pressed into Zeke’s, my back to his front. How many people are they going to cram into this thing? Zeke’s hands grip my upper arms to hold me steady.
And then the ground drops out from underneath us, and my stomach whirls. Zeke’s grip tightens. I purposefully keep my eyes away from the glass walls that look out over Seattle and the Puget Sound as we get higher and higher . . .
What was I thinking? I can’t do this. I can’t get the image out of my head of that tiny needle swaying in the wind, snapping in half.
I tremble, unable to control the shaking any longer. Zeke holds me even closer until the space between us is completely gone, our bodies melded together. I choose to focus on that instead of the pit in my stomach. The elevator stops. People file out, and we’re given a little breathing room. I step away from Zeke, even though I miss the closeness.
Zeke looks at me with concern. He knows what this kind of deep fear is like, a fear that you just can’t talk yourself out it. Youcan’t face it no matter how hard you try, no matter how badly you want it.
“I can’t do it.” My voice is shaking. “We—we need to go back down.”
“I can ride down with you right now.” Zeke pauses. “Or we can just try. You can hold on to me, and we can just go one more step.”
We’re the last ones in the elevator now, and the female attendant in a navy blue uniform is glaring.
