blue sky filled with skydivers. Underneath it were the words FREEFALL SKYDIVING CENTRE, followed by an address – it was the old army base just out of town. Ethan clicked through the site, drawn in by more images of people leaping from planes, faces alight with excitement.
Something caught his eye. It was a job ad: Help needed for summer season. Bad pay, insane customers, interesting hours. Discounted lessons available.
It was late, but Ethan phoned anyway, and left a message. He put down the phone and sat back in his chair. Something about what he’d just done fizzed through him. He didn’t know why but it seemed important, like he’d made a move that mattered, changed something. OK, so it was just a job, but what else was he going to do with his summer?
3
‘Stand over there and smile at the birdie.’
The security guard at the entrance to the old army base was pointing at an X on the wall, bullet-to-the-brain high. Ethan did as he was told and walked over to it, resting his head against the X and turning to face a webcam. He smiled at the stuffed parrot sitting on top of it.
The security guard took Ethan’s picture, and a few moments later handed him his pass. It was a terrible photo, but then Ethan never liked pictures of himself.
‘The jump centre’s first left at the mini-roundabout,’ said the security guard. ‘Follow the road round, take the second right. If you get lost, look for people falling out of the sky and listen for the screams.’
Ethan didn’t know whether to smile or not, so he just nodded and headed back to his bike. He still couldn’t believe he’d got an interview for the job at FreeFall. Someone called Sam had phoned and told him to come in as soon as possible, preferably that day. So Ethan had done just that, gobbling his breakfast and racing out into the morning.
He jumped back on his bike, clicking through the gears as he followed the guard’s instructions. The guy was right – people were literally falling from the sky.
Ethan watched as parachutes exploded into life above him. Reds and yellows and blues studded the sky as skydivers drifted downwards. Some people, riding parachutes no bigger than large kites, swooped down to earth, spiralling fast, banking hard, slamming through the air at an impossible speed. Others, with much larger chutes, glided along, gentle as eagles. Ethan noticed how some chutes were carrying two people strapped together. All those arms and legs made them look like huge black spiders.
As he stared, Ethan wondered what it felt like to jump out of a plane. He remembered the BASE jumper, Johnny, and how his eyes had seemed wildly alive. As parachutes floated down, he imagined being up there himself, leaping from a plane, plummeting to earth.
His stomach somersaulted. Would he do it? Hell, yeah – you bet he would.
He’d never be able to afford it, though.
And with that thought suddenly dulling everything, Ethan pedalled on.
Leaving his bike in the car park, Ethan walked past a cabin that contained both the reception and shop, and found himself on an area of tarmac between some old aircraft hangars and a large green field where the skydivers were landing. He turned to watch a few more come in, the hangars now behind him, then turned back to get his bearings. The place was Saturday-morning busy. Everywhere he looked, people were either walking with nervous purpose and even more nervous smiles, or gazing anxiously up into the sky as skydivers continued to fall out of it. Ethan made his way through the crowds towards a building to the right of the hangars with the word CAFÉ written on the door. Beyond it he spotted a number of skydivers on a patch of grass. They were wrestling with their parachutes – laying them out on the grass, sorting and untangling the lines, then packing them into what looked like daysacks.
As Ethan pushed on through, a motorbike pulled up in front of him. The rider pulled off his helmet, grinned at Ethan and slid off the bike.
It was Johnny.
Ethan waved and nodded a smile.
Johnny propped up his bike and came over. ‘Knew I’d see you at the DZ,’ he said.
‘DZ?’ asked Ethan.
‘The dropzone,’ said Johnny. ‘If you want the full definition, then it’s a column of airspace around a central point on the ground where you land when skydiving.’ He winked. ‘Landing area to you and me.’
‘Right,’ said Ethan, and turned