IX
She fell for the first time from a tree. It wasn’t a very tall tree, but as Elena was only nine it may have been a bit exaggerated in her mind. It was a deciduous tree, small, but sturdy enough to hold her weight. She knew it was deciduous because of the rounded green leaves. No needles on this tree. In her opinion deciduous trees were easier to climb because the branches were lower and more splayed.
The air was crisp, and Elena was alone when the branch broke beneath her. A sharp snap whipped through the cold morning air and Elena dropped. It was one of those types of falls where the body leaves the mind behind. At most she had time for a sharp intake of air and then even her breath was left behind. She faced the sky, leaves glowing with the sunlight shining behind them, a vivid imprint on her mind.
She slowed. So, brief she hardly recognized it. Her body spun, like something softened her dizzying descent. Elena’s sneakers gently touched the ground, and there she stood, blinking as her body shook and her mind whirled. She sank to her knees, gasping in short, panicked breaths.
“M-mom?” she whispered, before gaining strength. “Mom?” She stumbled to her feet and ran to the house. The tree was only in their backyard. It was lucky, or perhaps prudent; if Elena had tried to climb trees further away, she would’ve been scolded. They lived along a green belt, surrounded by lush undergrowth and towering trees. The house peaked over a steep hill like a vulture hovering over a carcass. Though in this case the carcass would be the small town only a five-minute drive away. It was more idyllic than any place really deserved to be; since Elena was born and raised there, she knew nothing else.
Elena’s mom rushed out of the back door, screen door squeaking against rusted joints.
“I fell,” Elena sniffled.
Her mom sighed, sandy hair frizzing and around her head with a warm glow. Elena had inherited her own doughy looks from her mother, though a bright smile and darkened freckles gave them both more charm than their plain features portrayed.
“Are you hurt?” Her mom’s hands patted Elena down with quick and thorough efficiency. Noting Elena’s capability to walk and lack of bleeding, she frowned. “You don’t look hurt.”
“No….”
“Were you in the tree?”
“…Yes.”
Elena’s mom sighed. “I told you to be careful! Even a short fall can be dangerous! You’re lucky this time.”
Elena’s teary need for comfort warped to quick annoyance. “I’m fine! Don’t you see I’m fine! I didn’t get hurt!”
Her mom stared down at Elena, arms crossed, paint speckling her forearms. The silence was very loud, and Elena was forced to look away, brows furrowed.
“Alright,” her mom muttered. “Don’t be late for lunch.”
Elena nodded obediently. She was never late for lunch, but her mom was usually late in making it. Sometimes Elena wondered if her parents even remembered they had a kid.
After her mom went inside Elena walked over to the tree, staring at the branches, brow furrowed. Perhaps she was crazy, she thought. Or a surprise gust had swept her up. The branches creaked gently, but there was minimal wind to support her hypothesis.
Whatever it was, Elena thought, that was enough tree climbing for the day.
VIII
It happened again on the monkey bars. Brian had joined her at the playground. It was outdated, made of rusted metal and the type of wood that gave you a splinter if you even looked at it wrong. Brian wasn’t Elena’s best friend, but she liked him well enough to go to the park with him. Also, their moms were friends, so they didn’t really have a choice. Brian was king of the playground when she fell, lording over her on his perch as she crawled across the aged metal bars.
Her plan was to overcome him by crossing the imaginary moat, but she didn’t count on one of the bars being loose. Her hand slipped through. Confidence became her enemy as she wasn’t ready to catch herself, falling headfirst and headbutting the next bar on her way down. She fell in an ungainly heap, stunned from the blow to her forehead.
Yet just as before something paused her descent. Her forward descent somehow managed to transform into a forward flip and she landed on her feet, immediately falling on her backside in the damp bark-dust.
“Are you okay?” Brian said, aghast. He hadn’t moved, but he was staring at her with wide eyes, the kind of startled rabbit look that made him seem like he was about to flee.
“Um,” said Elena, still reeling, rubbing her head.
Brian scuttled down from the play structure to kneel at her side, hands hovering before her. “You just… fell.”
“Ouch,” Elena replied eloquently.
“How’d you even do that?”
“Do… what?” Elena was still trying to gain her composure and thoughts.
“You, like, I dunno, flipped.”
Elena shrugged, finally focusing on Brian’s pale face. “I must’ve been lucky.”
Brian snorted, pushing dark hair out of his face. “That’s some real dumb luck.”
Elena’s mind wandered though. She stared up at the bars and thought about coincidence.
VII
Her heart was leaping out of her chest as she gazed down. Perhaps, she thought, she had chosen a spot too high. All the outcomes raced through her mind: broken leg, cracked head, parents finding out. But at the same time… Elena was curious.
Two times she had fallen and managed to land on her feet. Was she just lucky? Or was something different? She had never managed to do anything like that before.
She’d picked a tree further in the forest, away from her parents’ eyes. While they may not watch her all the time, if one of them happened to glance out a window her experiments would end abruptly.
However, her stalwart conviction wasn’t quite so stalwart when actually faced with jumping. She’d picked a shorter tree in an area with plenty of ground cover to cushion her fall. Ferns, moss and tiny white flowers painted the ground below her, more inviting when she was standing on it rather than seven feet up. The air was filled with muted birds and critters, heavy with afternoon heat, oppressive and tangible against Elena’s pink skin.
She would jump. It would be fine. Even if she didn’t land well, it wasn’t that high. She would jump. She would.
Her foot shifted on the branch and she perched a little higher, intent quivering through her body, precariously hovering over the branch’s edge.
“Do it, do it, jump,” she hissed to herself. “Jump.”
She jumped, though it was more like an insecure fumble, slipping from the branch as she desperately tried to reach back, regretting her decision immediately. A strangled whimper left her mouth but before a yelp could fully emerge Elena landed.
Feet first.
VI
“I’m telling you,” Elena exclaimed, “I think it’s like magic. I can always land on my feet!”
Rachel was skeptical. Her dark eyes narrowed and one brow lifted, no artifice in her disbelief. Rachel was Elena’s best friend. They were walking to the convenience store. Rachel’s mom had grown tired of them tearing around the yard and gave them five dollars to buy themselves a treat. Rachel’s mom was very protective of her garden, something which Rachel and Elena occasionally forgot. The summer warmth was begging for a cold treat, so the money was perfectly timed. It was the type of summer where the heat could be visually observed a block away, a wavering kaleidoscope over cracked cement and brittle shrubs.
They were taking their time walking to the shop, sluggish now that there was very little shade to protect them. Concrete and brick reflected the yellow light back into their squinting eyes.
“I don’t think that’s safe,” said Rachel. “Also, no one can do that. Even the top athletes can’t!”
Elena wasn’t quite sure this was true, but she wasn’t confident enough in her knowledge to disagree. “Well, I can.”
“Prove it,” challenged Rachel.
“Fine, I will!”
They continued walking. “After the shop though?” Elena said.
Rachel groaned. “Yes, I’m so thirsty.”
The store was a small, locally owned business with only three short rows of snacks, canned food and magazines. The old lady behind the counter glared at them suspiciously over the displays of Swiss army knives and chewing tobacco.
Both Elena and Rachel whispered. Not because they were trying to cause trouble, but because the old woman unnerved them.
“Otter pops?” said Rachel. “We can get four.”
Elena nodded, quickly grabbing a couple as the freezer groaned to life.
“Hello,” Rachel offered to the old woman tentatively, pushing the frozen pops onto the counter with the five-dollar bill.
“Hmph,” said the old lady.
It was a quick transaction before they shuttled out of the shop, otter pops in hand. They were only a few feet away when Rachel said, “What a grump!”
“That’s because she’s about to die soon,” replied Elena mater-of-factly.
“Elena!”
“Sorry,” Elena shrugged, unrepentant.
Rachel’s lips were stained a bright red from her pop as she spoke. Elena imagined her own looked similar.
“So where should I jump from?” Elena asked.
Rachel shot her a side-long look. “Seriously?”
“Dead as! Pick a place.”
Rachel glanced around the street. There wasn’t much. “That bench?” She gestured at an old, graffiti covered bus bench.
“Oh c’mon, that’s way too short.”
“Well, I don’t know!” Rachel said. “There’s not much.”
They meandered away from the small downtown and into the residential area, not far from Rachel’s house.
“What about your second-floor window?”
“What? No, that’s so dangerous!”
“Well, what else is there?”
Rachel stared down at her otter pop. “I don’t think this is a good idea. What if my mom saw?”
Elena shrugged. “We’ll go to the opposite side of the house she’s on.”
Rachel’s house was a delicate cream cottage, tall and narrow with Victorian era accents. Elena loved it. She thought it was much cuter than her own home, which seemed tall and intimidating, hovering over the hill like a starving bird of prey. Rachel didn’t agree, but Elena’s mom always said you want what you don’t have. Elena supposed this was just a case of that.
They both crept in through the front door. Rachel’s mom was weeding in the back, so they decided to climb through Rachel’s younger brother’s window. He was staying with this dad that week; he wouldn’t notice.
Rachel flipped the ceiling fan on as they entered the messy room, the floor covered with plastic dinosaurs and mismatched Legos. “We’re not going to be in here that long,” Elena said, rushing to finish her second otter pop. The fan was loud and creaked with a rusty whine.
“You might not,” Rachel pointed out; her mood was showing through, summer storms and annoyance.
“It’ll be quick,” Elena assured.
Rachel didn’t respond, staring out the window as Elena struggled to open it by herself. Like the fan, it hadn’t been oiled in some time and opened with a pained screech. Both girls’ shoulders shot up to their ears in a deep cringe.
“Okay then,” muttered Elena, leaning over the edge of the windowsill.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Rachel protested once again.
“It’s not that bad.” Though Elena felt anxiety tighten in her chest. It was higher than anything else she’d fallen or jumped from. Elena hefted herself up on the sill, peaking down the street both ways to make sure no one was watching. The mid-afternoon heat kept most people indoors at this time though, and the neighborhood would be calm for another few hours before dusk fell.
“Elena, don’t.”
Rachel’s hesitation solidified Elena’s determination. Someone had to see. Someone had to know. She could do something different, something special.
Elena leaped, and not a quick drop down to the lawn below. She pushed off from the sill, gaining height before gravity fought back and she fell, fast, fast, fast. And then slow, gentle, her toes touched the ground. Elena paused, gathering her breath before turning to look back at the window with a grin. “See?”
Rachel stared at her, mouth slack and hair frazzled. Then she turned away from the window and went back inside, shutting it with an aggressive snap behind her. Elena frowned, waiting for Rachel to appear outside, but she never did.
V
“I’m sorry,” Rachel said over the phone later. “I don’t like what happened today. I don’t think we should hang out for a little bit. You have camp anyway, right? I’ll see you after.”
Elena’s eyes burned as she trotted out to the forest, finding the tallest tree, and leaping from it.
Who cared if Rachel didn’t want to be around her? Rachel was jealous. Elena had something she didn’t. She was a coward, unlike Elena, who could fall and be just fine. Maybe if she kept practicing, one day she could fly.
IV
Summer camp only lasted a week, a fun childhood getaway hiding its true intention: parental respite. Though it seemed like her parents were always on respite with how little they paid attention to her. Elena was especially excited this year as she had the opportunity to show off her new talent to a much wider audience, some of who even went to school with her. By the second day Elena was able to gather a small group of her peers without the overbearing watch of the counselors.
“You’re a liar!” One of the girls proclaimed, one Elena didn’t know.
“Wait until I show you,” Elena spat as she climbed a Douglas Fir, her hands sticky with sap and bits of fuzzy bark.
Brian was also one of the faces in the small crowd, though he was remarkably silent, brows pinched together. Elena wasn’t sure what his expression read as, but he didn’t seem excited.
Elena was high enough in the tree to peer through the thinning branches and see the cabins a short distance off, something she couldn’t see from the ground. She was high enough.
“Okay,” Elena shouted, “don’t stand beneath me!”
“You’re gonna die,” replied the snotty disbeliever, though she did listen and took a gratuitous step back.
Elena stood up on her branch. It was smaller, so small her toes and heel both wrapped around it to find air. She inched out, keeping one careful hand on the trunk. Adrenaline pulsed through her belly and veins, creating a shivering butterfly effect.
“Timber!” Elena quipped, stepping off the branch. She had miscalculated a bit. Wind whipped past her, as did the lower branches, needles scraping her skin. She didn’t have long to contemplate this before she slowed, body righting itself, still surreal, as Elena landed safely on the packed dirt.
Silence, and then an explosion.
“Whoa!”
“How’d you do that!”
“I know her! She’s my friend!”
The last voice was Brian, pushing to the front of the crowd to bask in some of Elena’s glory. The other kids had rushed forward, all trying to speak at the same time. Elena grinned, overwhelmed, but satisfied. This was the response she’d been looking for from Rachel. Why could strangers be happy for her and not her own best friend?
No matter. She had new friends now.
III
“What’s the trick?”
Elena glanced down the table, barely hearing the boy over the clatter of cutlery on plastic trays. They were in the chow hall, huddled together on long benches under the arching wooden beams. Elena wasn’t the only one to glance at the boy, so did Brian and the other children sitting next to her.
“What?” Elena asked, swallowing her roasted potato.
“What’s the trick?” he repeated. His eyes were narrowed, unfriendly, shadowed blue beneath the warm lights.
“What trick?”
“No one can fall from that height and be fine. You have to have something. Was it a rope?”
“It’s not a trick,” Elena said, lifting her nose. “It’s just something I can do.”
“Did you see her?” Brian asked, eager to defend Elena’s newfound skill and popularity.
“Yeah, I saw,” said the boy. “Seeing isn’t believing you know.”
“It’s not my fault you’re jealous,” snapped Elena. The kids around them had stopped eating, watching the altercation.
“I’m not jealous.”
“Sure you are,” said Brian, taking up the attack. “It’s pretty obvious.”
“I’m not!”
“Then I’d like to see you do it,” Elena challenged, dropping her fork to cross her arms. “Maybe you can even figure it out. Prove I can’t do it.”
The boy narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“Coward,” Brian spat.
“I’m not a coward.”
“Cowwward,” sung another kid from down the table. The boy’s head snapped up, eyes a little glassy as he stared at whomever had taunted him.
“Fine,” he said, slowly, as though walking into a trap he knew was there and couldn’t avoid. “Fine.”
“Same tree,” said Brian.
Elena was starting to feel a bit concerned though. She hadn’t liked being called a liar, but she also knew this probably wasn’t a good idea. Two outcomes warred in her mind; either the boy would get hurt, or he wouldn’t, and the thing that made her special wasn’t that special after all. She couldn’t decide what was worse, but she was quiet as they all trooped out of the chow hall and to the tree past the hill.
Once they passed the counselor’s line of vision the other children started to chat and laugh. The challenged boy was quiet, pushed to the front of the group. Elena lagged, somehow managing to rival his anxious silence.
Once they reached the tree the boy climbed each branch with mechanical determination. Lankier than Elena, he was much quicker than she had been. He didn’t bother to go as high, despite the jeering he encountered.
He stared down from the branches and made eye contact with Elena. He stepped from the branch. Is that what she looked like when she fell? At least, what she looked like until the bottom. The boy didn’t slow like she did. He hit the ground with a crunch. A brief silence, then a slow, shuddering scream.
Elena walked away. She was nauseous, and yet, vindicated.
II
“What in the world were you thinking?”
Elena stared at the floor of her bedroom. It was an aged, speckled brown, once vivid it had been faded by sunlight and time. Her parents stood over her. She didn’t want to look at their faces.
“You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. Where did this come from?” Her mom, struggling to keep a calm voice. The way it raised at the end of her question belied otherwise.
Her father wasn’t so restrained, waving his large hands over his head, sleeves rolled up and neck flushed.
“What in the world were you thinking?” he asked again, stuck on repeat.
“Hun…” Elena’s mom warned her husband, then turned back to Elena. “Why would you tell these stories? That poor boy broke his leg. You weren’t raised this way.”
Elena’s brow furrow, fists gripping her pant legs. “I didn’t lie.”
“Oh, suuure,” her father muttered sarcastically. “Because you can fly now, of course!”
Elena’s eyes began to burn. Her father was a large man, but soft. He rarely expressed anger, and had never derided her. Of course, Elena had also never been sent home early from summer camp either.
But… Elena wanted to prove to them it was true. She wasn’t dependable old Elena who had average grades and no special skills. She could do something. Bother her parents should understand, they were both amazing at what they did, receiving accolades across town for their decorations and woodwork. Who was Elena, but their forgotten daughter?
“I can,” Elena begged, “just let me show you!”
“Show us?” her father repeated incredulously.
Her mother sighed. “Let’s talk about this later. Dinner will be ready soon; we’ll talk after.”
They started to step out of her room. “I just want you to believe me,” Elena sniffled.
Her father ignored her. Her mother sighed again, shutting the bedroom door behind her.
A few minutes later their voices started echoing up the staircase. The house was old, with thin hallways and thinner walls. They were discussing her, though Elena could only catch fragments. Therapy, punishment, help. Nothing indicating they believed her.
Her dad used to say he trusted her. Elena now knew that was a lie. If you don’t believe someone then you don’t trust them, she thought.
Elena stood to stare out her window. The sun was beginning to dip, but still high enough to promise another couple hours of light. Shadows lengthened over the town, the green hill their home peaked over reflecting the sun back in a deep umber.
She could get on the roof.
Seeing is believing. Elena could prove that she could land, that she wouldn’t fall. They could see it for themselves. Images of her parents’ apologies for doubting her flew across Elena’s mind as she crept out of her room and up the narrow stairway to the attic. The very top had a landing, and from there she could leap, down three floors and the steep hill.
The cooling summer breeze hit her face as she stepped onto the small porch connected to the attic. Elena was briefly blinded and wrapped her hands around the peeling white metal barrier that separated the porch from the fall. Her parents had always loved the antiquated look of the house, often refusing to update it like they were hired to do for other jobs. Elena hated it, though she couldn’t explain why.
It didn’t take long for Elena to hear her mom’s voice calling her to dinner. She didn’t respond. She knew how this would go. Her mom would check outside before coming up to the attic. That’s where she would assume Elena went. It would give her the perfect vantage point.
A few calls for Elena. Drifting voices moving further away, and then once again her name being carried to her by the fading summer breeze.
Elena waited until her mom was close enough before calling to her. “Mom, here!”
Her mom peered around the corner of the house, walking on the porch, and covering her eyes as she stared up at Elena’s figure.
“Elena…” she asked hesitantly. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to show you. I want you to see!”
“Elena, no!” her mom bit out, eyes widening. “Don’t, that’s not safe!”
“No, it’s perfectly fine.” Elena soothed, calm. The roles were reversed. She could comfort her mom this time.
“Steven!” her mom shrieked. “Steven!”
It was only a moment before her dad came jogging around the house. He must’ve been checking the tree line.
“What?” He was mildly out of breath, but he caught sight of Elena’s form immediately.
“It’s okay, dad,” Elena said. “I already told you. It’s safe.”
His face slackened in comprehension. He immediately whipped around and sprinted around the house. Elena frowned. She wanted both of them to see.
Her mom was crying now. “Elena,” she gasped, “just please come down. I believe you. We believe you. We can talk about it, but dear lord please just come down.”
Footsteps slammed through the house. Elena climbed the edge of the banner, placing her bare feet on the railing between the dull, spiked rails. “Watch me!” she demanded.
The attic door slammed open with a crash. Elena glanced behind her, barely catching sight of her dad before she leapt.
The world blurred around her. A favorite painting, when life was frozen and spinning at the same time. She was deafened, by the wind rushing past her ears and her mother’s scream. It was okay, she thought, it would be fine. She’d done this before.
She wondered when she’d slow down.
I