“Bastard,” she said.
“Mags, you have to do this,” I said. “You’ll regret it forever if you let your fear get the better of you. I promise, you’re going to be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
“Oh, god,” she said, looking up at the ceiling. “Please, just let me stay.”
“No way,” I said.
“One minute!” the instructor shouted. “Last call!”
“Come on,” I said as the instructor ripped the side door open. Wind rushed in, deafening and crazy, and I nearly lost my footing. The instructor laughed as his face deformed in the wind, and began a countdown on his fingers, starting at ten.
I knelt down in front of Mags. Talking was impossible now, but I unbuckled her belt. She shook her head over and over, but when I took her hand, she let me lead her to the wide open door.
The instructor’s fingers dropped. Five, four, three, two.
At one, I shoved Mags out.
The instructor shoved me next.
I didn’t look over my shoulder, but god, I really hope he followed.
Mags was up ahead as the wind tore past my ears. It was a roar of wind and took me a second to orient myself. I floated, falling, dropping—
Flying.
I shouted my throat raw with excitement and used my arms and legs to maneuver through the air. Mags was screaming, though I couldn’t hear it. Sound was lost in wind, only her open mouth and streaming throat gave it away. I grabbed her hand as I got closer and she looked over—
And stopped screaming.
She laughed, eyes wide, and pointed at the ground. We hurtled down toward it, weightless and heavy all at once, flying and falling, the difference moot. I squeezed her hand as the instructor appeared next to us and tapped something on his wrist, then held up two fingers. I nodded back and passed the message along: two minutes to parachute.
Mags released my hand and spun away. She dove down then caught herself and I followed. For the next two minutes, we were free, we were birds or something much stupider, two falling lumps of human, bodies hung on a precipice. She spun around and around, hair flying in her face, glistening and gorgeous, until I finally grabbed her hand again.
The instructor appeared. He made a yanking gesture. I passed it along to Mags then let her go and pushed her away.
She pulled first. The chute ripped out and yanked her back. I pulled next, and felt the pack pull at my body and my sudden descent slow. The force of it pulled the breath from my lungs.
The instructor pulled last. And soon the three of us were drifting.
Finally, I could hear. The wind was still loud, but better. “Mags!” I shouted. “That was amazing!”
“I know,” she said, laughing. “Oh my god, it’s amazing. Look at that view! Look at it, Dean!”
So I looked, at the trees and a stream winding along the edge of some small town, and in the distance was Philadelphia. Down below, the pine barrens, more trees, more houses and roads.
We followed the instructor down, down, down, toward a massive empty field. It took a while, and it was the most peaceful I’d ever felt.
The landing was rough. I hit, ran a little, and fell on my face. Mags was more graceful. She managed to stay on her feet.
Once her pack was off, she threw herself at me and hugged me tight. “I’m so happy you made me do that,” she said, eyes shining and grinning. “And I’m so freaking happy I’m on the ground again.”
I laughed and kissed her. “I told you I’d help you fly,” I whispered in her ear.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too.” I looked around and spotted the instructor. “Hey, how the hell do we get home from here?” I asked.
“Van,” he said. “Had fun?”
“Hell, yeah,” I said, smiling at Mags, and she kissed my cheek.