Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,22

wall, I’ll never know.

“I’m trying to talk her out of climbing the wall.” Tate brushes his hands on his shorts, leaving chalk residue on the navy blue jersey fabric.

“That’s silly. Why?”

“Because she’s clearly freaked out. Look at her.”

I try to smile, but it comes off like I’m being forced to grin at gunpoint.

“No way. She’ll be fine. It’s easy,” Jamie says as he straps me into the harness.

“Emmie, you don’t have to do this.” Tate’s voice is soft. It’s strange. It’s the opposite of the irritated tone he employs during work hours.

“No. I want to,” I say. I’m such a liar, but I can’t let him see me fail. I want to impress Jamie, too, but the urge to prove Tate wrong outweighs even that. I will fake bravery, and I will climb this terrifying wall.

From the corner of my eye, I catch him shaking his head when he steps away. I follow Jamie’s instructions and push myself up the wall with my legs. As I climb, he shouts out directions.

“Grab the yellow knob on your right,” he says. I obey with trembling arms and legs. “Green one on the left. Okay now, push yourself up a bit with your legs. Nice!”

I don’t know if my pulse has ever soared so rapidly. Even when I do sprinting drills, my heartbeat is nowhere near this frantic.

“Don’t look down. Don’t look down,” I chant quietly to myself as I hug the wall.

“You’re doing great!” Jamie yells from below. He sounds far away. Curiosity gets the best of me, and like a blockhead, I peek down. I’m well over halfway up the wall. Fucking hell, this is high. My arms begin to violently tremble.

“Now go for the blue on your left,” Jamie directs.

My vision blurs, my mouth hangs open, and I’m huffing like I’m having a panic attack.

“No!” I yell.

Jamie’s laugh echoes. “It’s okay, you’ve got this!”

“No! I can’t!” My panicked, deafening tone ricochets off the wall.

Every single person in this gym must have heard me. I don’t care. I’m paralyzed with fear. There’s no way in hell I’m moving an inch higher on this wall. I want to go back down to the floor, but I can’t move. I can’t even will myself to lift one finger from either knob in each hand.

“Emmie. Take a breath,” Tate shouts from below. “I’ll lead you down. Just listen and follow my directions, okay?”

I nod, knowing that if I try to speak I’ll burst into tears.

“Look to your left. See that orange knob? Put your left foot on it.”

I do it.

“Good. Now lower your left hand to that gray knob below. Yes. Nice job.”

The next few minutes Tate directs me back to the floor. I’ve never been so happy to hear his voice. The moment my feet touch the ground, my heartbeat slows. It’s still fast, but I can discern that there are individual beats taking place. It’s an improvement from the single thrust of adrenaline against my rib cage while I was glued to the wall.

Yanking off the harness and cord is impossible with shaky hands. “Get me out of this. Now.”

“Okay. It’s okay. Easy.” Jamie is wide eyed at my frantic showing. If my meltdown halfway up the wall didn’t turn him off, the freaked-out way I’m kicking off the climbing gear certainly will.

“Hey, it’s fine. You did great.” Jamie pulls the harness off of me.

“I need a minute.” I jog to the front door, suddenly aware of all the strangers staring at me.

I’m pacing back and forth in tears across the parking lot when Tate approaches me.

“What a loser, huh?” I say in a raspy whisper.

“You’re not.” His tone is strangely kind. I don’t think I’ve ever heard his voice this soft or seen his eyes this concerned. He seems genuinely worried for me.

I let out a half-cry, half-laugh sound. “I had a panic attack on the rock climbing wall in front of everyone. My freak-out will be posted on YouTube in no time, I’m sure.”

“Don’t say that.”

I shake my head. “I honestly thought I could do it.” I rub my arms. They’re covered in goose bumps even though it’s eighty-eight degrees outside and insufferably humid.

“You tried something you were scared of. That’s commendable.” He moves his arm like he’s going to pat my shoulder, but it lands on his hip.

“And I promptly had a meltdown. It was pathetic. I am pathetic.” My voice shakes.

“You are not pathetic, Emmie.” The way the words fall out of his mouth sounds like he’s reading