This close, and all I can hear is the wind. I suppose there must be an engine somewhere, but I can’t hear. There’s only the wind, racing past the open portal with fluctuating whine. Before me is emptiness.

I look back. Three figures in brightly coloured jumpsuits stand behind me. Parachutes harnessed firmly. Fish-bowl goggles hiding their faces. One gives me a “thumb’s up”.

He’s not the one standing on the brink of eternity.

“Ask her.”

“Not yet.”

“Why not.”

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re growing old waiting to be ready. We’re gonna be having this same conversation in a retirement home at this rate.”

“Ask her.”

“Not in front of Stacey and Jenna.”

“You’re stalling…”

And then the bell came to my rescue. The subject of our conversation was Stephanie Russell. I was completely smitten. And like your average head-over-heels in love fourteen year old, I was in a catatonic state of indecision about what to do about it. In the last three months I think had managed three coherent words in her presence, usually along the lines of “Hi. Gotta go!” followed by a panicked exit stage left.

Sam had finally had enough. I’m sure even the most supportive friend would have been tested by several months of ravings about the way she walked, talked, tossed her hair, nibbled her pencil during maths problems, and a hundred other insignificant details that are only visible to the truly obsessed. So he came up with a plan.

“Ask her to go climbing with us.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because.. um… maybe she isn’t interested…”

“She’s on every sports team in school. She’d probably be willing to give it a go.”

“Well… um… ahhh…”

“You’re never to going to date her if you don’t talk to her. So you ask to go climbing. You get the whole day to get to know her, impress her with your charm, humour, and climber’s physique, and admire her butt while climbing.”

“And what would you know about that?”

“I admire yours all the time. You’ve got a clue little wiggle you do right before attempting a big move.”

“I do not!”

“Do so!”

Since Sam came out, not much had changed between us. I had spent a couple of weeks a little dazed, but when the earth’s magnetic field failed to reverse itself and Sam didn’t turn up to school in full drag diva regalia, I started to return to normal, and life resumed much the same way it had before. But Sam’s teasing about my unrequited crush on Stephanie got worse.

As the students began filtering out of the school corridor into the different classrooms, I grinned evilly at Sam, knowing I’d managed to postpone the invitation for a little longer. Stephanie was off to history, while Sam and I had English first period.

The classroom was in its usual state of pre-class chaos, with the girls’ gossip circles exchanging updates on everything that had happened since ten o’clock last night, the boys bragging about feats on the football fields or the quantities of porn downloaded without their parents knowledge, while Sam continued his relentless assault on my cowardice.

Mister Edwards entered and brought the class to a reluctant order. I noticed one kid standing at the front of the class, not yet heading for a seat.

“New kid” I whispered to Sam.

“A little short, isn’t he?” To be fair, the new kid did appear about a head shorter than anyone else in the room.

“Now that I have your attention…” Mister Edwards began. “A new student will be joining us for the remainder of the term. Robert has been moved up a grade in English.”

The classroom groaned. Every so often, one of these bright sparks got bumped up a level to a “more challenging environment in line with natural abilities.” On past experience, the experiments usually worked out badly for all involved.

“Maybe Robert would like to tell us something about himself.”

The class groaned again. These were all the same. Some timid little kid telling the same boring details about his life in a voice no one in the room could hear.

The kid stared around the room. I looked closer. He sure didn’t look timid. In fact, he fit better in the category of… defiant.

“First thing, the name is Robbie, nor Robert, okay?” His tone was assertive. For better or worse, he had the attention of everyone in the room. One of the slackers out back let out a snicker. He was the only one.

“I’m thirteen. I skateboard and play the flute. I’ve been doing martial arts since I was eight, and I’m gay. Anyone got a problem with that?”

She looked so small on that metal slab. My mother smiled up at me, and squeezed my hand.

“I’ve done this before okay? Nothing to it.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

I smiled back at her, hoping, willing myself to believe that this treatment, this would be the one to terminate the cell’s destroying my mother’s body.

“We’re ready to begin now.” A disembodied voice echoing through the room. Not completely impersonal, but I wasn’t reassured.

I retreated out of that stark white room. Stayed, looking back, at my mother, insignificant under the gaze of the radiation therapy machine. The room, the machine - it overwhelmed her.

The doors closed. Maybe I was just imagining it, but the reception seemed to fill with an impersonal electronic hum.

In the silence that followed Robbie’s pronouncement, I could read the mind of every single person in the room. Did he just say what I think he said? Sam and I had speculated from time to time about who else might be gay at school. Based on the one in ten figure, we calculated that we had to know at least a few people who might be. We had suspicions. But to our knowledge there was not one single “out” student in the school population.

Until now.

Robbie stared around the room, daring anyone to say something. Anything. I think most of the students were too busy picking up their jaws off the floor.

“Good, now that that’s out of the way, let’s begin with the second act of ‘Death of a Salesman’. Robert, sorry, Robbie, why don’t you sit next to Jason?”

Mister Edwards ability to maintain focus on literature after a bombshell like that never ceased to amaze me. As the initial shock wore off, I could see the questions forming on the lips of most of the class. But the urge to talk had to be postponed as Mister Edwards maintained an iron like grip on our march through Arthur Miller’s play.

I looked over at Sam. He looked as blown away as anyone, with a mixture of elation, fear and surprise chasing themselves across his face. As Robbie parked himself in the seat next to mine, I saw Sam carefully scrutinizing him. I’d have to ask what he thought at the break.

Robbie kept quiet for the lesson, focusing on the play in front of him. I had to admit the furrow on his brow as he concentrated was kind of cute. He wasn’t too bad looking really. Glossy brown hair that probably needed cutting. Stub of a nose. Eyes… well I had seen what he could do with those. And short. Sam was right there.

Finally the bell rang for the end of class, and there was a collective sigh of relief from the class as forty-five minutes of bottled up tension was released. Within seconds the room was buzzing with a dozen different conversations.

The subject of those conversations calmly collected his books, hoisted his bag over his shoulder, and serenely walked across the classroom, giving the impression of being all but oblivious to the furor he had caused.

Sam and I followed him, a few metres back, curious about the next development in this unfolding drama. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Brad White, one of the school low lifes, in a vigorous conversation with some of his fellow dungeon dwellers.

I nodded my head. Sam picked up the hint immediately, and scowled.

Out in the corridor, the book exchange ritual was in full progress, as students swapped one back-breaking load out of textbooks with another from their lockers. As Robbie moved away from his locker I saw Brad and his goons surreptitiously slide into position.

“Where ya going, fag boy?” Brad grinned. Robbie said nothing, simply turned and looked for a way out. He suddenly realized the wall of bodies around him weren’t friends or allies.

“Hey, I’m talking to ya, fag boy!” Brad pushed at Robbie. “Listen to me when I fuckin’ talk to ya.” He knocked Robbie’s books out of his hands. Robbie made no effort to pick them up. He simply stared back evenly at Brad.

“Got something to say? No? Fucking queer to good to talk to us?” Brad pushed Robbie, more forcefully this time.

I can’t say I even saw what Robbie did. He simply seemed to swivel and suddenly Brad was on his knees, wincing in pain as Robbie held his wrist twisted at a frightening looking angle. Robbie shove Brad’s arm away, disgusted and moved to leave.

“Ya little punk!” Brad charged him. But Robbie just kept rolling with the charge, sweeping Brad forward, off his feet, over Robbie’s hip and on to the floor in a blur of motion. Robbie had Brad’s wrist in another one of those submission holds - and this time he wasn’t letting Brad off easy.

“Right now, I could break your wrist in a second.” Robbie gave the hand another twist. Brad screamed. “Do you understand?” Robbie twisted again, and Brad let loose another howl. “I said, do you understand?” Brad nodded frantically. Tears were welling in his eyes.

Brad’s goons were hesitating unsure of what to do next. Robbie had a momentary advantage, but I knew the goons would act soon, and I didn’t fancy Robbie’s chances in a five on one fight.

So the next step was madness.

“Hey guys, why don’t you leave the kid alone?” Was that my voice? The relaxed, confident tone certainly didn’t seem to come from anything I was feeling at that moment. And I certainly wasn’t sending the chemical impulses that were making my legs walk over beside Robbie, placing myself directly in the firing line.

“Hey Jason, maybe you’re one of them!” I was silently counting down. Three seconds and I was dead meat. Then Sam stepped before me.

“You guys are just scared you’re not man enough for the runt.”

“Hey who are you calling a-“ squeaked Robbie from somewhere below us.

“Show some cajones and pick on someone your own size.” I wasn’t quite sure if Sam’s tactic of inciting the mob into a murderous rage was the appropriate way of defusing the situation.

Just as I was mentally adding the final flourishes to the epitaph of my tombstone, another bombshell dropped.

“Oh boys - you know what all of us girls are going to think about a bunch of guys who go around beating up little kids right?”

Was that Stephanie standing beside me? My Stephanie? An angel appearing in my hour of need to stare down the finest thugs our education system could produce.

“Cause us girls - we talk. And we might decide there are more worthy candidates for our affection.” And then she wrapped one arm around Sam’s waist and draped the other over my shoulder.

Oh. My. God.

I had the feeling that if I didn’t resume breathing real soon, something bad my happen. But then if I did anything to upset the delicate balance of power in this situation, I was sure bad stuff would happen.

The bullies mentally evaluated the benefits of beating up one little kid versus the effort required to take out three other people one of them a girl, with the added threat of being consigned to a permanent dating blacklist, and reached the conclusion that it just wasn’t worth it. The bullies turned away, leaving Brad White fuming on his own, trying to wring some feeling back into his wrist.

“Let’s move it,” I said, and Sam, Stephanie and I hustled Robbie towards an empty classroom.

The kid was belligerent.

“Why did you do that? I could have taken them.”

“One at a time maybe. But there was five of them. And this way you didn’t have to.” Robbie seemed to accept Sam’s logic with only the utmost reluctance.

“Besides kid,” (his nostrils flared as I said that word), “You’ll have to start trusting somebody round here.”

“So what’s the plan?” Stephanie asked.

“Stick around here, till things have cooled off a little then head for our next classes. Um, ah, thanks for your help Stephanie.” She smiled.

“Nothing to it.”

We all fell silent for a moment. Sam kicked my shin. He jerked his head toward Stephanie and mouthed the words “Ask her!” I shook my head. Sam glared. Deep breath.

“Uh, Steph… I mean Stephanie… Sam and I, we’re uh, we’re going climbing this weekend, and I was wondering, um, wondering if you wanted to come along, like sort of?”

One of the great passionate declarations of love of our time it wasn’t. Stephanie looked at me slyly.

“Like a date you mean?”

“Um yes, I mean no, I mean…” At this point I collapsed in a choking, coughing fit. Both Sam and Robbie were killing themselves laughing. Thankfully Stephanie put me out of my misery before I broke a rib or something.

“Sure. Sounds fun. Pick me up at, say 8 o’clock?”

“We’ll be there,” said Sam, saving me from the further embarrassment of trying to talk.

“Gotta run guys. See you later.”

After she had left Sam just grinned at me. I glared. Then I remember Robbie, standing beside Sam. An evil thought crossed my mind.

“Say Robbie…” At that moment, Sam realized exactly what I was going to do. He started mouthing “No, no, no, no, no” but I ignored his pleas. “Would you like to come with us as well?”

By now Sam had graduated to the violent hand motions. I wasn’t going to stop until I had my revenge.

“I’ve never been climbing before.”

“No problem. We’ll start off easy. And Sam here is a really good teacher. You know he’s one of the best climbers in the city.”

“Really?” Robbie’s eyes were saucers. “You’d teach me how to climb?”

“Glad to,” said Sam through gritted teeth.

“Why don’t you give us your address and phone number and we’ll pick you up Saturday morning?”

“This isn’t some kind of trick, is it?” he said suspiciously.

“Trust us, okay. And Stephanie will be there as well right?”

“You guys are the coolest.” He practically bounced out the room. There was only another minute or two till classes restarted, so I figured he probably be safe. I turned to Sam.

“You are so dead,” he fumed.

“But it’ll be such a nice funeral. Bye bye loverboy.” I made my exit before he really did decide to do me bodily harm.

Two in the morning. Something has woken me. I’m not sure what.

Then I hear the retching.

I’m torn. Do I get up? Face my mother, hunched over a toilet, tears on her face, coughing up the food she never ate in the first place because she was too sick.

I hate myself for not doing anything, not being able to do anything, wanting to hide in my bed and pretend the treatments are working and everything will be just fine in the morning…

Is it the powerlessness or the cowardice I hate?

I had seen my mother crawl on hands and knees from the bedroom to the bathroom. I didn’t want to face that again.

I heard my dad’s voice. The calm reassuring tone.

I was off the hook. But it didn’t make the night any easier.

I stood on the hill and gazed out into a perfect azure sky. It was one of those autumn days that starts off cold and clear, then warms up into the most beautiful imaginable.

Sam, Robbie and Stephanie were helping Sam’s dad unload the car. When everything was he out, he waved and drove off with instructions to return at five.

Stephanie and Robbie finally had a just to take in the view. They were both pretty awe-struck. I admit it still hits me when I come here. The city stretches out below, but up here, away from it, there are just the birds and the rabbits.

Robbie lifted up his comically overstuffed pack on to his back, and set out after Sam towards the rock face. Sam and I swore it weighed almost as much as he did when we first saw it.

“What the heck do you have in there?”

“Ah, let’s see… food, jacket, flashlight, drink, more food, first aid kit, still more food, cell phone (I’m only allowed to use it to call home), sun tan lotion, bug spray, cardiac monitor, defibrillator, marine signal flares, life raft, suit of plate mail armour…”

“Your mother is a little overprotective?” He rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know how long it took me to talk her into letting me do this. But then I told her that the best climber in the city was going to be helping me the whole time!” Robbie beamed. He might have missed the way Sam blushed at that comment, but I sure didn’t.

Sam started laying out the equipment while he explained the plan for the day.

“We’re going to start off with some easy routes to get you used to climbing outdoors. I’ll lead the first climb, then everyone else can come up by top rope. All of these routes have good natural anchor points at the top, so you don’t have to worry about the rope coming loose.”

“The rope can come loose?” Robbie asked nervously.

“You did pack the plate mail armour, right?”

It was when Stephanie came to put on her climbing harness that I found out exactly what she was going to wear climbing. Off came the tracksuit revealing a sports bra type bikini-top and a body-hugging pair of shorts. I’m not sure where this trend for aerodynamically-superior women’s sportswear came from but I approved. At that moment, you have no idea how much I approved.

When it came to climbing you coulddn’t find two more contrasting climbing styles than Robbie and Stephanie. Stephanie was thoughtful, deliberate and composed. She assessed her holds carefully, evaluating the best way to go, and the right way to grip it. She was patient, and conserved her energy. For someone who had never been climbing before, she showed admirable technique.

“Twist into the wall. It’ll bring your shoulder higher, and you’ll be able to stretch up to the next hold more easily,” I yelled up to her. She listened, considered the holds, twisted and effortlessly wrapped her hand around the next hold.

And did I mention she was hot? Sam’s comments about the view while belaying were right on the money.

But if Stephanie was patient, Robbie was not. He attacked every wall like the hundred metre dash. His technique was terrible, but he conquered every wall through sheer strength and stubbornness.

Let me explain the difference between climbing indoors and out. Inside, you know exactly where the holds are. They’re the little pieces of plastic screwed to the wall, or occasionally features molded into the wall itself. You know exactly what holds you have available. The question is how to use them to get you up the wall.

Outdoor rock is rarely so obvious (apart from perhaps the chalk stains on the more well used routes). Instead of one possible hold, you may have three or four all with differing degrees of usefulness. If you’re Stephanie you choose the best hold to get you to hold after that. If you’re Robbie, you try all the available holds, and the one you select is the first one you can support your weight on.

We spent all morning scrambling up and down some pretty easy climbs. I was sure Sam hadn’t broken a sweat yet, although Robbie was panting furiously by lunchtime.

“You gotta be easier on your arms, Robbie. You’re gonna wear them out before we start getting to the interesting stuff.” Robbie seemed to be listening to Sam’s advice as he gulped down some Gatorade. “I’ll show you some stretches. It won’t help much now, but it might stop your muscles killing you for the next week.”

I sat down next to Stephanie, and unwrapped a ham sandwich.

“You’re a pretty good climber.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know.” I blushed at the compliment.

“Ah, shucks, it’s nothing. Sam’s trying to bring me kicking and screaming up to his level so he has some company on the grim death climbs.”

“He’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, we’ve helped each through.. ..stuff.”

“Robbie really likes him you know. You should tell him that.”

Now I was confused and scared and elated. Did that mean…? Did she think…? I looked at her quizzically.

“Just tell him.” And on that cryptic note, she returned to eating her sandwich leaving me to wonder just what the heck she really meant.

Just one step. One step and there’s nothing below me for another three kilometers. It’s weird to think how something so small can have so many repercussions. At this exact moment, I wonder whether a butterfly is flapping its wings in some distant part of the world, creating a freak gust of wind that will sweep me away from my friends forever.

You think of things like that when you’re trying to postpone throwing yourself out of a plane.

“Now, we’re going to move on to some climbs that are just a little bit more challenging.” I recognized the grin on Sam’s face and groaned.

“And by a ‘little more challenging’ he means vertical walls with all the holds of your average sheet of glass.”

“Jason, I’m hurt. Have I ever let you down yet?” To be fair, Sam was a pretty good judge of difficulty. I’d all but killed myself getting up some of his little puzzles, but somehow he had coached me up every single one eventually.

He led us to his chosen route. It wasn’t one I’d done before, and there didn’t seem to be many obvious holds. Sam added a few more anchors to the collection already hanging off his harness.

“I’ll lead it first and anchor it at the top. Jason will belay me. Watch carefully on the lower half. You can’t see the top half from here, but you’ll need to save your energy for it.

Sam took off his shirt and wiped the sweat from his palms. I heard Robbie audibly gasp beside me. Sam has a climber’s physique, and it takes most people’s breath away the first time they see it.

Sam started climbing. He was moving slower than usual, taking the time to emphasize each hold he was using and just how he was gripping each one. Despite the “tutorial” nature of his climb, he still had that fluid grace that I envied. Without any hurry in the world, he placed his protection, clipped the rope in and climbed higher. Eventually he passed from view, and I had to rely on shouts from above to let me know when to tighten or slacken the rope.

Then there was a long pause. The occasional tugging on the rope told me he was tying the rope to a tree or rock at the top. Finally he leaned over the outcrop.

“Okay, send the kid up!”

“I’m not a…”

“Just kidding!”

The other end of the rope snaked down the rock face. I handed the end to Robbie so he could tie himself in. Robbie peered up at the rock with a justifiably skeptical look on his face.

“He thinks I can do that?’

“I guess he has a bit of faith in your climbing ability.”

Still looking doubtful, Robbie started to climb. At first he tried to mimic what Sam had done - the smooth moves from point to point, the delicate, yet precise holds, the twists, and turns of the feet, hands and body. But it became clear pretty quickly, that Robbie just didn’t have Sam’s skill.

But he kept climbing. His smooth ascent turned into a scramble and then an all out war with the rock. He step up seemed a battle.

“Take it easy, Robbie. Save your strength. You can try it again in a few minutes if you want.”

But giving up just didn’t seem to be in Robbie’s vocabulary. Sweating all the way, he inched up the rock and out of view. There wasn’t any more coaching I could do.

I never found out what happened up there on the rock. When Robbie and Sam returned they both seemed kind of dazed. They were quiet, and both wearing the same look - as if they had suddenly awakened to some great knowledge, and were trying to understand all they had experienced. Every time I asked Sam about it later, he just smiled and got a far off look in his eyes.

Only Sam and Robbie know what happened up there. And neither of them are telling. This is what I like to think might have happened up there. And who’s to say that my version isn’t the truth?

The boy locked on to the hold, and pulled himself another step higher up the face. Repositioning his legs, he shook out his arm, trying to relax tortured muscles. Sweat was starting to bead on his brow, and his fingers ached.

He managed to chain another two moves together before his momentum stopped again. His hand reached out to test what seemed a likely hold. His fingers played along the surface of the protrusion. Enough space for the tips of three fingers no more.

The boy considers the state of his exhausted body. Will three fingertips support his weight? He swaps hands, and explores the other side. Another possibility maybe - but this hold would pull him away from the line of the rope, away from the security of his footholds.

He tests the first hold again. It hasn’t grown any larger. He shakes his arm, considers his options once more.

His left leg starts to shake. This scares him. It’s twitching uncontrollably. The effect is due to lactic acid build up in the muscles and happens fairly often, but the boy doesn’t know.

All he knows is that his feet aren’t as securely anchored as he thought they were. He grips the handhold tighter, but it’s only tiring out his muscles more.

“Dammit!”

A face leans over the rock. A mop of blonde hair, blue eyes and smile shine down.

“You’re going great Robbie. You’re almost here.”

“I am not doing great!” There’s an edge of frustration in the climber’s voice.

He reaches up to his left for the third time. Places his fingertips on the narrow ledge. Bends his knees a little to give that bit more “spring”. He makes his move - launches himself - but stops halfway. One leg dangles free. His weight goes on to his fingertips. He knows he has to let go the hold below, to reach up and grab - what? There’s nothing there! Nothing at all.

He can only remain suspended like that for so long. He sinks back. Defeated.

“You were almost there.”

“I was not! Not even close!”

He shifts his hand on the main hold. His palms are sweatier now. His grip doesn’t seem nearly as strong as it was before. His fingers hurt. The climber chalks up. Tries to shake his tired arms loose of the ache that has enveloped them. The legs start to twitch again, both of them this time. His arms tighten, determined to hold on.

“Tight! Pull the rope tight!” he yells down to the belayer below. The rope tightens, but he’s still trapped unable to move forward, unwilling to fall back.

“I can’t do this, Sam! I can’t!” There’s fear and pain and frustration in the climber’s voice.

“You can do this Robbie. I know you can.”

“I can’t.”

“Look at me Robbie.”

I won’t look up.

“Look at me.”

Those beautiful blue eyes.

“Trust me Robbie. Do you trust me?”

I trust those eyes.

“I’m going to talk you through this. I promise you - you will get up this route. Believe me?”

The climber nods slowly.

“You had the right hold. You can’t put a lot of weight on it for long, but you don’t need to. You see that crack above you - slightly to the right.”

Another nod.

“That’s your next hold. It’s going to become your new best friend. You’re going to put your inside it, and make a fist, like this see? If you turn your first sideways like this, it will wedge into the crack and won’t come out. Hang off the crack with your arm straight, and the bone will support the weight. Not your muscles, not your fingers, bone. You do drink your milk right?”

The climber smiles. A small one, inadvertent, but his mood lifts just a little.

“You ready?”

The climber moves his feet into better positions. Feels for the small ledge. Takes some deep breaths.

“Crimp your fingers on the ledge. It will give you a little more strength.”

The climber complies, and finds that ounce more of holding power. One last breath, and then up, committed, reaching for the crack, pushing his hand in, making a fist, jamming it there, and it’s staying there, and it’s not coming out, and his feet can scramble to higher footholds, and he sees where he has to go next, and before he can think he’s reaching, and wrapping his hand around a perfect palm size rock and pulling himself up and the feet are scrambling but he’s up, and up, and up and over and suddenly there is nothing but air.

“Wooooooooooo-hooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!” The yell echoes around the hills.

Robbie is jumping and shouting and yelling. He runs to Sam, and hugs him, hugs him tight, and before he knows what’s he doing he’s kissed Sam, kissed Sam on the cheek…

For a moment Robbie just stares. Stares and thinks about what he did. There is no sound but the wind, and Robbie’s heavy breathing.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, Sam, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

He wheels away, tears forming in his eyes, cursing his self-betrayal.

A hand grips his arm. It holds. Doesn’t let go. The hand pulls him. Back into the embrace. Deep blue eyes look down.

Soft lips touch his. A hundred thoughts try to crowd into Robbie’s mind at once, but only one remains clear. Sam is still kissing him. Just a gentle press of flesh to flesh.

Transcript of a telephone conversation at 11 PM on Saturday night.

Sam: Jason?

Jason: Whatsup, Sam?

Sam: I can’t do this.

Jason: Did I miss something? You’re not making any sense Sam.

Sam: Why did he have to happen to me?

Jason: Robbie? Don’t you like the guy or something?

Sam: That’s the problem.

Jason: What?

Sam: I think I do.

Jason: Ohhhhhh.

<< Pause >>

Sam: This can’t happen to me! He’s thirteen!

Jason: Yep.

Sam: He’s a kid!

Jason: If you say so.

Sam: He’s short! Why do I have to fall for someone who’s short?!

<< Long pause >>

Sam: Jason?

Jason: Yeah, Sam?

Sam: Is there something you’re not telling me?

Stephanie and I both heard Robbie’s yell of victory from the top. The rope had gone slack. For the moment, my work as a belayer was done.

I sat down on a rock next to Stephanie.

“It sounds like Robbie made it to the top.”

“Yeah. Sam’s pretty good that way. He’ll pick some route that looks completely insane. You’re cursing his name the entire way, convinced on half a dozen occasions that this will be the point where you stop and can’t keep on - and yet somehow… Somehow he gets you up. And the feeling at the top when you do… words can’t describe it. Best feeling in the world.”

“Sam’s good for you, Jason.”

“Times I don’t know whether I would have made it through the past couple of years without him.”

“He likes you doesn’t he?”

I squirmed, trying to figure out how to answer, staring at the ground for clues.

“I mean, he really likes you.”

I nodded, and looked up at her uncertainly.

“Jason - I like you.”

I could feel the hope welling up from somewhere deep within, battling the demons of uncertainty and doubt.

“Um, Stephanie… You know the dance coming up in a couple of weeks… I was wondering perhaps if…”

“Yes.”

“… with me?”

“Yes.”

“Does that mean…?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes! Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me at class when you think I’m looking elsewhere.”

Busted!

“I think its sweet.” And she kissed me. Just like that.

On the lips. Barely a second really. From a strictly objective viewpoint, it was completely run of the mill everyday kiss.

But I was happily floating away from any kind of objective reality, because the girl of my dreams had just said she liked me.

Jason: You know that moment - when you realize that someone likes you just as much as you like them? That’s the moment- the feeling that I want to remember. The taste of marzipan.

Sam: Huh?

Jason: Just something I read in a book once.

Sam: Don’t you just feel like you could conquer the world?

Jason: Like run a marathon!

Sam: Climb Mount Everest!

Jason: Fall out a plane!

Sam: Saaaaay… that gives me an idea.

Me and my big mouth.

Which is how I found myself at 11,000 feet preparing to learn how to fly.

I looked back at Sam, Stephanie and Robbie, almost unrecognizable in their jumpsuits and goggles. Sam gave me a thumbs-up.

I turned to the open door. Deep breath. Destiny awaits.

I stepped into air.

People asked me afterwards, and I could remember was the floating. The complete freedom of freefall, when for several brief moments you’re alone in the deep blue sky.

I shifted the last elusive run away hair into place, and checked myself in the mirror again. Teeth shiny, acne blissfully absent, hair in place, shirt presentable. I was as ready as ever I was ever going to be.

I walked downstairs to where my date was waiting.

Stephanie was radiant. I swear she had a warm halo surrounding her. Her dress was breathtaking. I swore I was going to wake up at some point to find out this was all just a wonderful dream. My father beamed.

“Wait right there. I’ll get a camera.”

I sighed. No chance of a quick getaway when my father was providing the transport. Even as I fidgeted nervously I couldn’t keep from stealing glances at Stephanie. Stephanie Russell who was going out with me. To the dance.

I heard a shuffling on the stairs. There was my mother. Worn and pale as ever, but with real clothes on, tackling each step with grim determination.

“You’re out a bed,” I said, stating the blindingly obvious for Stephanie’s benefit.

My mother shuffled across the living room, steadying herself with one hand on the back of the couch.

“I wanted to see you both before you go.” She gripped my shoulder using it to keep herself upright. “You look wonderful. I love you Jason.”

“I love you too.” And I couldn’t hide the tears any longer.

It’s the last song of the night. A slow one. The dance floor is filled with couples, some in the first tumultuous throes of love.

Look closer at the middle of the dance floor. At the four people dancing where everyone can see them.

A fourteen year old boy is dancing with the girls of his dreams. He’s waiting for the clock to strike midnight when the carriage will revert to a pumpkin. But until then he holds her close never wanting the dance to end.

And beside them the first boy’s best friend is dancing with a thirteen year old who’s far too short to ever be really cool. They never thought they’d ever find someone like themselves, and their intoxicated with the knowledge they’re not alone. Tonight they have each other, and for the duration of this song there is no one else in the world.

The couples kiss, and nothing else matters.