Page 156 of The Outsider
The sorrow of losing my sister was still there, still aching, especially since she’d protected me one last time, even when she was in so deep with the Order that it endangered her. But Holly, like Asha, had made her choice, and I’d made mine.
Even after my world had ended, I kept going. Hope grew out of strange places, blooming through the cracks and crevices of despair. It was what had brought John to me. It was why I’d survived a winter in the wilderness. It was why even after I’d been literally thrown off the horse, I got back on.
“You gonna jump?”
I whirled around. “What?”
John grinned. “You heard me. Are you?”
“How do you know it’s safe?” I asked, frowning. “It’s not a small drop.”
“I’ve done it loads of times,” he replied with a shrug. “No rocks, and it’s deep enough. But I understand if you’re scared.”
I shot him a mutinous look. “Is that a challenge, Wastelander?”
He raised an eyebrow, and his grin widened.
“Call it whatever you want…compound girl.”
It’s on.I could hardly back down now that he’d called me out so blatantly.
“Prepare to eat your words,” I said primly as I stripped down.
I’d prepared a little surprise of my own. I’d commissioned Nimkii to make me a new swimsuit. It was a deep blue one-piece, with an open back and pretty ribbon ties at the shoulders. I’d intended on wearing it this summer at Glacier Lake and hopefully dazzling him.
I shed the rest of my clothes, revealing the swimsuit. I felt John’s gaze lingering on my body, and I stopped to bask in his attention for a moment.
“Christ, that’s not fair,” he said with a chuckle, then pulled me against him for a kiss. “Let’s forget the picnic.”
“No way,” I said, amused. “You challenged my honour, and I intend to prove myself.”
He held up his hands. “Go ahead, then.”
I walked to the edge of the cliff, and one look down at the water made me feel a little less brave. It did seem awfully far down. I bit my lip, hesitating.
“You don’t have to do it, baby,” John said kindly. “I won’t judge.”
But I didn’t want to give in to my fear. If the past year and a half had taught me anything, it was that sometimes, there was no other way forward: I just had to jump.
“You’re sure it’s safe?” I glanced back at him.
His expression turned serious. “Of course.”
I took a deep breath, backed up a couple steps, and took it at a run. I didn’t give myself time to chicken out. One moment, the soft grass was beneath my feet; the next, I was airborne.
I screamed—part-fear, part-exhilaration—as I fell. I hit the water feet-first with a big splash and was enveloped greedily by the lake. The water was cool and refreshing on my skin. I savoured those brief seconds underwater, when everything was quiet and still. The jump was cathartic, and as I swam upward, I imagined leaving the pain of the last few months there, slumbering forever at the bottom of the lake. When I surfaced, I came out clean.
“I did it!” I yelled at the cliff, and John’s loud laughter carried to me.
“So you did,” he called back, standing at the edge. “My little daredevil. Meet me at the beach, okay?”
Sweet adrenaline still alive in my veins, I turned in the direction of the beach and swam toward the shore. It’d been a long time since I’d gone swimming, and I’d missed it. The lengthy paddle to the beach was welcome.
When I reached the shore, beautiful, untouched wilderness expanded before me in all directions. The beach was small, as John had said: a strip of sand no more than ten feet wide, following the shoreline until it dissipated into soft, tall grass. The grass was mostly clear forseveral metres before giving way to the lush, green forest that encircled everything. On the left, a natural rock wall rose three feet from the ground, just high enough to conceal a shallow gulley behind it. The low ditch stretched back toward the forest, like a secret pathway.
We spread out our blankets and had a picnic on the beach, watching the lake gently lap at the shore. I stretched my legs out in front of me, wiggling my toes in the sand as I bit into a bright red strawberry. The texture was strange to me; I’d never felt anything so soft, yet abrasive.
“You happy, baby?”
