The Easy Part of Impossible - Sarah Tomp Page 0,27

back seat, following Ria around her house to the backyard.

“Put it there. I mean him. Put him there.” She pointed at the lounge chair on the patio.

He dumped Sean on the chair.

“I love you,” said Sean.

“I love you too,” said Cotton. “But as a fellow human. Not in a romantic way.” He looked at Ria. “What? Do you think he was talking to you? I’m the one carrying him.”

She giggled, trying to keep her voice down. But it must not have been enough, because there was Dad standing in the patio doorway.

“Hi, Dad. This is Cotton. And”—she pointed in the direction of her passed-out boyfriend—“you know Sean.”

“Hello, sir.” Cotton held out his hand. “My name is Connor Talley. But everyone calls me Cotton. I live over on Quartz. Sorry to disturb you. I know it’s late. I can leave.”

He was so earnest. Extremely stiff and slightly awkward. Probably nervous. Somehow it added up to cute.

“You don’t have to leave,” said Ria. “Right, Dad? Can Cotton stay for a while? And Sean, too?”

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Dad peered over Sean.

“He’s tired. I think he had a super-intense practice.”

Sean sat up suddenly. “I’ll have her home by midnight,” he said, then fell back again.

“Well,” said Dad. “He kept his word. You are home. . . .”

“Exactly.”

“Okay. You two have fun. But keep the noise down.”

“Your father is very accepting of intoxication,” Cotton said as Dad slid the door shut.

“Or completely clueless.” Ria added, “You don’t have to stay. I can take you home if you want.”

“I don’t want. Is that a trampoline?” He pointed across the yard.

Ria laughed at the marvel in his voice.

On the trampoline, she resisted the reflex to jump, waiting as Cotton sat on the edge and swung his legs around with a grunt. He rested for a second, as if getting his bearings, then rolled sideways onto the springy part.

“This is huge. Isn’t it? Isn’t it bigger than a normal trampoline?”

“It’s better for working on tumble sequences and hurdles.” She did an aerial into a front flip to show him. “My parents got tired of me bouncing on the furniture when I was little. Plus, it’s a good way to release stress.”

Awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure where his legs ended, Cotton moved into a crawl position, then finally lifted himself to his feet. He stood with his legs slightly bent and his back curved forward. He slid his feet across the surface, slowly, his body stiff and holding his hands straight out. Then, suddenly, he threw his hands up over his head and said, “Ta-da!”

“Very nice.” She laughed, moving along the edge.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on one of these.” He tilted and turned his head, as if he was looking at it sideways. “I thought I used to be able to flip. But now I can’t see how that could be true.”

“That might have to do with your center of gravity. It changes when you grow. How long has it been?”

“I don’t know. It was part of my sensory therapy. I wasn’t very good at being a little kid. I had to learn how to finger paint, chew bubblegum, and roll around on a trampoline.”

“And to cave?”

He looked confused.

“It seems like caving might bother you too. All that gooky mud. And the dark. Caving is kind of annoying . . . I mean in an amazing kind of way.”

“Yes. The amazing makes it worth the mess. Now I know what to expect. I can learn to like things that are at first unpleasant, if there’s a reason I should.”

“You could also learn to flip again. I could teach you.” She moved to the center of the trampoline.

“I think that center-of-gravity issue might be at odds with your plans.”

“Only if you let it be. Gravity is overrated.”

“I’m too scared.”

“You can’t be scared. Not if caving doesn’t scare you.”

“Caving? I told you, the mess doesn’t bother me. Why would caving scare me?”

“Because you go crawling through the dark. With hundreds of bats. You squeeze yourself into tight little crevices. You go marching off into a place where you might get lost. Or you could fall in a hole that goes to Australia.”

“I take reasonable precautions.” He tilted his head. “Why doesn’t diving scare you?”

“It does. When I think about it too much. But fear is part of getting better, too.” She stretched her arms over her head. “If my coach says I’m ready to do a dive, I know he’s right. My body might still