Théodora Armstrong - Clear Skies, No Wind, 100% Visibility

“He’s weird,” Kate says. “Is he with Adrienne?”

“No. I hate that bitch.”

Wet and shivering in a black bikini, Adrienne is standing next to Max. She is the only girl on the cliff. Her toes curl around the edge of the rock like she’s a plump bird perched on a wire — a mean bird, a crow. For most of grade eight, she barked like a dog whenever I passed her in the hall at school. Why, I never figured out, but my guess was she didn’t like my hair because it’s wild and red and has a mind of its own. “Watch,” I say. “She’s gonna jump. She’ll bellyflop.”

“Maybe she’ll explode,” Kate says. Adrienne turns and disappears back into the forest. “Choke,” Kate shrieks and I laugh pretty hard. Adrienne quit barking at me after Kate spread a nasty rumour about her, something about genital warts contracted over spring break. I’m still impressed Kate did that for me, because she could have got her ass kicked, but somehow Kate always manages to float above it all.

Another guy from our school climbs the rock face, moving quickly, finding steps where I can’t see them, his friends hooting at him from the boulders at the base of the cliff. I can’t remember his name, but he’s a grade up from us and lives near the highway by Mosquito Creek. He was suspended for something this year — something to do with mouthing off or having weed in his locker. He passes the ten-foot mark, his skin translucent in the shadows of the trees, and disappears into the forest, coming out moments later to stand at the edge of the thirty-foot cliff. Beyond him the world is bleached, the sky burning white. He looks down, hands on his hips, to judge the landing, while his friends holler at him from below. People stand on the rocky shore, craning to get a better view; everyone watches when someone jumps from that height. Kate and I sit up, waiting to see if he’ll do it.

He pauses long enough to take a breath. “Jumping!” He leaps from the rock into the air, legs scissoring before straightening. At first his fall is almost slow-motion — his body bow-shaped, muscles tense, ribs jutting. He drifts, floating like a slip of paper, soft-bellied with pointed toes. Then all at once, his milky skin moves fast as light, brightening the rocks with its radiance. The water swallows him — a small disappearance, no big splash. Standing up, it takes me a moment to spot him in the pool, glowing deep in the water like a rising moon. When he surfaces, he pushes his hair out of his eyes and swims over to the boulders, where his friends are calling out to him.

“Wanna go in?” Kate says after watching him for a minute.

“Nah, you go ahead,” I say, lying back on my towel.

It takes the guy a while to notice her doing laps around him, but when he does they float off together, sitting on the rocks in a shallow part of the pool away from everyone. Joining them now would be too obvious. When they both look in my direction, I close my eyes and pretend not to notice.

I must have fallen asleep on the rocks, because next thing I know Kate is standing over me, breathless, dripping water all over my legs. “You know Elgin, right?” I squint into the sun bursting behind their heads. The guy is standing beside her, rubbing water out of his ears. “He goes to our school.” He half waves, but looks past me which means he’s only interested in Kate. “Come on,” she says, taking my hand and pulling me up off the towel. “He knows a better place to go swimming.”

WE WALK STRAIGHT DOWN the canyon, back toward the suspension bridge. In this part of the park the creek bed narrows and it’s hard to hear over the roar of fast-moving water. Kate and Elgin are ahead, climbing over the rocks quick as mountain goats. Kate doesn’t even bother to look back for me. Under the bridge are the falls where jumpers have died. Signs at the park entrance warn about the dangers with a diagram of a stick man twirling in a vortex. Jumpers have been sucked into whirlpools, trapped where no one can rescue them, their broken bodies drifting out eventually.

Elgin’s standing at the edge of a natural waterslide carved into the rock. He sits in the bubbling stream before gliding down, dropping into the pool below. Kate follows him, descending less gracefully. “Let’s go,” Elgin yells at me over the rush of the creek. The water takes me quickly, the smooth rock like the porcelain of a bathtub, and then the rock is gone and the water hits me again, this time like a cold tile floor. My head goes under and I swallow a gulp of creek, my limbs scrambling around me. I break through the surface, gasping, “It’s cold.” Kate grabs my feet and pulls them into the air, sending my head under again. I spit water in her face and laugh so hard my ribs hurt. “That wasn’t what I wanted to show you,” Elgin says.

We hike further down the canyon, my skin tingling after the cold shock, shivers running down my limbs, everything heightened — glints of silver in the creek rapids, green-gold needles in the trees, prisms of light radiating through the branches. Around a bend I can see the tourists crossing the suspension bridge and Elgin stops, holding up his hand. “Wait a sec,” he says. He peers over the edge of the glistening rocks before grinning, reaching an arm out to Kate. “You think you can handle this?” I don’t like his grin or the way Kate’s smiling at him. She takes his hand and looks down. “No way,” she says, pulling back from him. Elgin’s smile gets bigger. I walk right to the edge, standing beside them, and look over. The creek spills over the rocks, twisting into a huge waterfall, billows of mist swallowed into the dark water. “Yeah, right,” I say, crossing my arms, waiting for Elgin’s reaction. Kate puts her hand to her mouth, catching a burst of giggles which means she’s nervous. He’ll bluff until we beg him to stop, until we grab his hands and pull him away from the cliff, believing he’s the bravest guy we know. “Go for it,” I say, calling his game.

Elgin doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at me. He smiles at Kate again, then backs away from us quickly, breaking into a run. In one leap he’s gone off the cliff. Not like a bird. Not like a slip of paper. He falls like a rock, like a cannonball. He falls so fast he’s gone like a magic trick.

“Shit,” Kate says, getting down on her knees to peer over the side. “Where is he?” When she turns back her eyes are huge. “He did it. Holy crap! Look,” she says, pointing, “there he is.” I kneel down beside her. Elgin is in the water, swimming away from the falls. “What an idiot,” I say. I feel like shouting the words so they echo around the canyon.

“I’m gonna do it,” Kate says, standing. She paces the cliff.

“What, now you’re an idiot too?” I step away from the edge, shaking my head. “No, you’re not jumping.”

“He did it.” Kate takes deep breaths, rotating her arms the way swimmers do before they launch from the block. She tightens her ponytail. “Look! He’s fine.” She points again like I didn’t believe her the first time. She’s shaking out her hands. Far below, Elgin’s sitting on a ledge swinging his feet. He sees us and waves. Kate waves back and grabs my hand. “We’ll do it together. At the same time.”

“Forget it.” I shake her off and start walking away. “You want to go, go ahead. Go smash your brains on some rocks,” I call over my shoulder, climbing up the large boulders leading up to the path. When I turn around I expect to see Kate following me, but she’s still standing by the edge of the waterfall. “It’s like our cliff game,” Kate yells after me, “but there’s something to catch you.”

“We don’t jump!” I shout down at her. “That’s a pretty significant difference.” I cross my arms and eyeball her while she looks up at me, chewing on her bottom lip. “Brad what’s-his-name died here,” I say.