The Fall

The Dispatch Stock Exchange - Round 1

The Dispatch Stock Exchange - Round 1

As promised in last week’s Smörgåsbord, here is Round 1 of my collaboration with Meg Oolders over at Stock Fiction.

She wrote the first draft of this story about horny teenagers, and then I put my own spin on it, adding layers of science fiction and class struggle.

It was incredibly fun, and I’m far more proud of this final version than I have any right to be.

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The Fall

The jump is harder than the fall.

The jump is harder.

The jump.

That’s what Simon said.

Simon says…

How many times had he grimaced at that dumb joke. Not that I ever used it.

Out loud.

Obviously I’m trying to distract myself. But it’s not working, thirty feet up over cold water, wet granite under my clenched toes. Skin thickened by goosebumps and longing for the clothes bunched up under the faux sun next to stupid Jada and her stupid perfect body in the stupid red lace underwear. 

Meanwhile I’m in the unflattering one piece that’s standard issue for civilians. Even if I had a bra and thong like Jada’s, I wouldn’t wear them swimming in the simcave. It’s an unsubtle flex. No, I’d settle (kill) for a cute two piece like Alice is wearing, or even the tank and booty shorts on Marisol. Boo hoo their parents are richer than mine.

And I’m still stalling, I know it. The fact that no one’s ever died in this kind of fabricated environment doesn’t help, it makes me feel worse. Like an idiot. Like a coward. What the hell’s the matter with me? I did my first spacewalk when I was nine years old. 

Mark and Hunter are waving, both of them covering obvious boners with the other hand. Just like Jada, they “forgot” to bring proper swimwear. Super cool.

I catch Simon’s eyes, and he gives me that look – the one that says I get it but come on, quit embarrassing me. The one with an eyebrow half crooked and the corners of his mouth pulled back in an almost smile. God I love that look. Right now it makes me want to cry.

Instead I force a grin, but I’m still frozen to the spot. So Simon stands up and jogs lightly toward the path leading up the wall of insta-fab rock, sweat glistening on his back and making me dizzy. He’s wearing standard issue trunks to match my one-piece, even though his mom is a Proctor. Maybe dressing like a plebe is just as much a flex as Jada and her red lace, but I don’t care. It’s hot af. 

On his way to me, he steps over Jada like the obstacle she is, and I want to kiss his brains out. 

As he gets closer, I inch back from the ledge until my limbs unfreeze so I can turn around and greet him. He’s got his hands out. Come here kid, Simon says, lemme talk some sense into ya.

I let him wrap me in his arms. I can’t help it, I breathe out long like I just crawled into a warm bed. 

“Listen,” Simon actually says, “you don’t have to jump if you don’t want to. You know that.”

“I know–”

“But you are gonna have to put up with losing the respect of the boner twins.”

I shake my head. “Unacceptable.”

He takes a deep breath – his version of a chuckle. Also hot af. 

“Seriously though,” he says. 

“I know. But I feel stupid.” I can hear the little quaver in my voice and feel even stupider.

He tightens his grip on me, the chilled skin of his chest warming my face. It helps a little. 

“Nobody thinks that.”

I snort.

“Nobody who matters,” he amends.

He knows I’m thinking about Jada. Alice and Mari don’t care – hell, they’re not even paying attention anymore. They’ve been flirting with Mark and Hunter for the past five minutes. Well, technically they’ve been flirting with Mark alongside Hunter, who never stops flirting with Mark. Or Simon.

But Simon is mine. I run my hands up his bare back, and he shudders. My grin is genuine this time.

“Careful,” he says into the top of my head. 

“What for?” I press my lips over that soft spot where his collar bones fit together. He shivers again.

“You’re about to meet the long-lost boner triplet, is what.”

I giggle, just exactly like I’m not still thinking about that godforsaken ledge behind me, and give him a little shove. 

But isn’t it OK to want this, and not want that? To want him, and not bother with crossing this chasm of insecurity, this threshold that had somehow come to represent all my worst fears about not actually being good enough for anyone, let alone this adonic specimen of class and privilege? 

“What if I jump with you?” he says, taking my hand. 

My heartbeat kicks up. Panic. Excitement.

I shake my head dumbly. I don’t even know what I mean. All I know is something happens when he pulls me toward that ledge. Some metaphysical wall, an impermeable barrier summoned by the unending incantation of just two words…I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t…forever.

“I’ll hold your hand the whole time,” he says. “And then I’ll give you a big hug after. And then we can go home and…have more hugs.” He smiles. I ache.

“The jump is harder than the fall,” he says again. “The fall is the easy part. It’s… the best part. I think.” 

He’s looking out over the ledge, and his voice has taken on a distant color. Then his eyes snap back to mine and he pulls me toward him and I gasp, thinking he’s going to fling us both off the precipice–

But instead he says, in a low voice barely more than a whisper, “I love you.” Then he kisses me, long, before meeting my eyes again.

Time stops. I know what he wants, but every emotion I’ve ever felt seems to be at war. Desire and hope and pain and rage and desperation and fear. 

I’m so afraid. 

He’s afraid, too. Afraid I won’t say it back. It’s in his eyes. But his fear is not the same as mine. How could it be, for the son of a Proctor on a colony ship, a thousand years away from some unknown posterity’s future home?

Somehow, my mouth opens. There’s a wild animal inside me, thrashing with only one purpose: say it back.

“I…”

“Jesus Christ.” 

It’s Jada. Climbing up onto the peak with us. Simon steps away from me as she nears, and there’s palpable anxiety in him.

Miss Lacey McThongpants turns when she passes him, letting her bra graze his arm “accidentally.” I see his eyes flick down to the point of contact, and something heavy drops in my stomach. 

Then, without another word, without any hesitation, she does a swan dive, and somehow it’s like slow motion. I can see her perfect butt cheeks flexed, legs crossed, as she follows a graceful arc. And I know he can, too. 

A splash.

An eruptions of cheers from the others below.

Simon turns back to me, putting on the same look as before, but it’s different this time. 

“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “Your turn.”

But it’s no good. It won’t happen.

“It’s okay,” he says, taking one of my limp hands. “It’s okay to be scared. But you can do it. Ready?”

He turns to face outward again, not looking down, not looking back. “You can do this,” he says one more time. 

But some part of him knows it won’t matter how long he waits.

Which is why he lets go of my hand and jumps. 

Alone.

The jump is harder than the fall.

The jump is harder.

I stand there, betrayed by sudden clarity. There’s no one cheering for me now. No one waiting to hug me. Or take me home.

Simon is wrong. 

The jump is really hard.

But the fall?

The fall is impossible.

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Guys if you liked it, click the heart, leave a comment. Meg is watching. Don’t embarrass me.