She follows the instructions and climbs, reaching a narrow hole cut into the platform. It’s only big enough for one of us to squeeze through at a time, which she does without even consulting me.
As soon as she disappears through the hole, I follow, hoisting myself up to find her in a fetal position on the platform, covering her mouth either to stay quiet or keep from throwing up.
“Oh, God, how long do we have to stay up here?”
Right then, I realize there isn’t one zip line; there are three. Levi’s words come back to me. When you get up there, you don’t know which line to take, since there are two or three or even more. One takes you farther into the course, the other two dead-end on the ground and you have to start over.
Damn. I peer at the three lines, each going in a different direction. I’m so turned around I have no idea which would take me where.
But didn’t Levi say there were instructions? Weren’t they burned into the wood? I look around, squinting in the darkness, the thick cloud cover making it almost impossible to see three straight lines scratched into the wooden platform. I look harder at the marking, noticing there are two more running perpendicular to those three on the top and—
“Oh, jeez,” I say, not even able to believe I didn’t see that Roman numeral. “That’s a three.” So now what? How do I find the …
Instructions!
I stuff my hand into my back pocket and exhale with relief that the sheet of paper Molly made me bring is still there. Could these phrases help me navigate the course?
I open the paper and try to angle it to catch any light available and read the list in Latin, my gaze going right to number three.
MEDIUM TENUERE BEATI
That means … middle … kept … happy. I know this one. I can hear Mr. Irving’s voice: Blessed are those who have kept the middle course. Bingo.
I choose the line in between the others and reach for a small silver clip, knotting the rope that hangs from it.
“You’re kidding, right?” Molly whispers from the platform, slowly getting up to her knees as she realizes what I’m doing.
“Actually, no.”
“Kenzie, I can’t.”
“I’ll hold you.”
“I can’t.”
We both hear the first footfall on the bottom rung. I peer down the hole and see the shadow of a man starting his climb. “We have to,” I whisper, reaching for her.
She hesitates only long enough to hear another footfall, then her hand closes over my wrist and she lets me pull her up.
“Hold on,” I say, opening my arms so she can wrap herself around me.
For one quick second, we are face to face and eye to eye, best friends who need each other more than any two friends ever had. “I won’t let you fall,” I promise.
“I just hope it holds us both.”
The whole platform shakes with the weight of a man climbing closer. “I do, too.” I dry my hands on my jeans, letting go of Molly completely as I reach up and close my hands over the rough rope, anchoring my wrists against the knot. I have no idea how far this line goes or if it will break or whether we’ll live or die.
“Lift your feet, Molly.”
She does and I do the same, closing my eyes as a fat drop of rain hits my face and we fly.
CHAPTER XXXI
Wind whistles over us. Raindrops pelt our faces as we sail above the treetops, some so close they brush the bottoms of my sneakers. My hands already ache and my whole upper body is throbbing with Molly’s additional weight.
Every second feels like an hour, every foot a mile, regardless of the fact that we’re going fast. The ride starts to slow and drop, not to the ground but to another platform. We almost crash into it, but I steady us and we tumble across the wood, Molly grunting and crying out in pain.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. That actually cleared my head.” She manages to get up and we both look around to get our bearings. “Now what?”
We’re definitely lower, but not, I realize, low enough to jump off the platform. As I sit up, I look around and see no lines and, of course, no railing—just rain.
There’s no way down … only up. Way up. There’s a platform about