Page 11 of To Catch a Firefly

“Maybe I should try an app,” he muses.

My fingers grip the wheel tight.

“You don’t think I should?”

I shake my head.Too dangerous.

With a hum, he lets the subject rest.

When I pull up to Smith Falls State Park forty-five minutes later, Lucky looks around.

“Hiking?” he asks.

Not quite.

I grab the bag I packed from the back of the truck, and we make our way to the north end of the park. After crossing a footbridge, we reach the wooden boardwalk that leads to Smith Falls, the highest waterfall in the state. Lucky’s eyes are wide when the rushing sound reaches our ears, and as we round the final corner, the waterfall comes into view.

Lucky hops excitedly, grabbing my arm, and I can’t help but chuckle. He has his camera out before we even reach the end of the boardwalk, shutter clicking away. I watch Lucky, chest feeling tight.

A few other people are visiting the falls, so we have to wait before we can stand up front. Once we’re at the rail, the water mists us gently. Lucky has to stop to clear it from his lens.

“This is great, El,” he finally says, his forehead and hair dotted with moisture. His cheeks are bright and his smile wide. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Not done,” I tell him, giving him a little tug.

Lucky looks curious as he follows me back down the boardwalk. He looks even more curious when I lead us down an unmarked trail. Several minutes later, I catch sight of the landmark I’m looking for.

Lucky lets out a whoop. “Please tell me you brought our swimsuits.”

I pull them from my bag.

The next couple minutes are a rush of changing beneath the privacy of beach towels and then clambering into the cool water. Lucky doesn’t hesitate to make his way to where a lower portion of the falls slides gently over rock, emptying into a natural pool. There’s not another soul in sight down here.

“This is awesome!” Lucky yells, wading deeper into the water and climbing up a slope of rock beneath the falls. He’s dunked in seconds, and all I can do is watch as he shakes his head and laughs and lets out a battle cry that surely scared away any birds nearby.

When he turns around, arms out to his sides, I have a moment of deja vu. Behind Lucky is a tornado, not the falls, and for a heartachingly long second, I fear for my friend. I’m scared because he’s brave and curious and likes the thrill of danger, even though he’s never outright said so. Those qualities I love about my friend, those things that make him so uniquelyhim, are the things that scare me.

There’s no tornado today, of course. But Lucky looks free as he stands outstretched beneath the water, and it hits me that I can’t compete with that. I can drag Lucky all over Nebraska or even further, show him the wonders in his own backyard. But whatever this feeling is he’s chasing, it’s bigger than me, bigger than this place, bigger than anything I know. What I have to offer won’t ever be enough for my free-spirited friend.

The realization hurts more than it reasonably should.

“Ellis!” Lucky yells. “Get your ass over here.”

Shaking off the phantom pain, I follow Lucky into the falls. The water is slightly biting as it pelts me from above, but through the sheet of the downpour, Lucky’s smile is like the sun. His face falls a little when he sees my own.

“What is it?” he asks, tugging me to the side. The water rushes down next to us, the force of it causing us to speak louder to be heard over the noise.

“Why go?” I almost shout. It’s useless—I know it is—but something about this moment feels urgent. Like if I don’ttry, I’ll always regret it.

Lucky watches me for a moment, eyes pinging between my own. “What?”

“Why?” I repeat, frustrated that I can’t get the rest of my question out. Lucky waits, his chest rising and falling. “Why do you need to leave?”

“Ellis,” he mouths. I can’t even hear the word. I can only see it.

“Am I not…”

“What?” Lucky says urgently, taking a step forward. “Are you notwhat? Say it.”

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