Bounce, p.7
Bounce, page 7
22.
HOLY CRAP! I’M DOING IT! My boots are in the stirrups, my hands are gripping the reins, I’m holding on for dear life! It’s too late now to change my mind! In a matter of seconds we are careening forward. Oh my gosh! My heart is beating like crazy. I am holding my breath when—out of nowhere—I can’t explain it, but something just clicks! All of a sudden I am squeezing my thighs against the saddle, relaxing my shoulders, sitting up straight: I can do this!
“Dakota,” I whisper. She’s taking over!
I move both my hands to the reins; I feel light and move in rhythm with Trigger’s shifting weight—It’s effortless! It’s hard to get this smile off my face!
I look down the sloping hill to the far-off woods. I don’t see another human being out here. It’s just the horses, Cass, and me. Nothing but fields of snow. It’s so beautiful and so white. I kind of love the wind on my face and the cold on my cheeks. I soften into the saddle. I take a nice deep breath.
When Trigger steps into the woods, everything gets quiet. It kind of feels so dreamy—everything around me is lush and still. The entire woods are like a secret coated with snow, a perfect dusting along every branch and every trunk. And when a low branch snaps against my cheek, and I feel a little hot slice, it feels oddly good—like, I’m alive! I’m doing this! I am riding a horse through a magic forest! It’s so silent under the snowy trees: I can hear the saddle creaking as we move, I hear the horse’s feet swish into the snow, I hear Trigger huffing through his nostrils. I can see his hot breath in the air. I lean forward and with one hand pat him. I know I can trust him. He’s not going to hurt me. Trigger perks his ears up, lifts his head, and almost nods. I grin. I get it. I understand what Luke and Cass meant—Trigger’s going to take really good care of you . . . You trust each other so much. We are doing this together.
When I see the giant log ten feet ahead, I don’t have time to be nervous. It all happens so fast. My first instinct is to shut my eyes and not look. Then I remember we’re a team, and I loosen my grip. I sit up straighter. I feel my feet sink into the stirrups. I lean forward and rise with Trigger. My butt comes out of the saddle a little, my head is up, and in a matter of seconds we are sailing through midair!
On the way back down I get the biggest jolt of adrenaline! “Wooooo-hooooo!” I hear my voice echo through the snowy woods. It’s the greatest rush!
A second later I hear Cass. “You’re doing it, Bear!” she hollers back.
We land on a carpet of snow in one smooth motion, and Trigger opens up, picking up the pace. He sets the beat. I somehow instinctively stand up strong, and my body moves together with his. We are one and I am ducking, snapping branches. Trigger loves running and jumping. He is really, really fast. I am smiling so big right now. Nothing can describe this feeling. It’s like I can fly. I feel comfortable in my skin—even though it’s not really mine. But in this moment, in the woods, galloping through the snowy trees, I know what it feels like to feel strong.
When we emerge from the woods, it is snowing hard. Trigger comes to a gentle stop right at the edge of the forest. It is silent except for the lulling sound of Trigger’s breathing. I quickly take off my gloves and tug my wool hat under my helmet down over my ears. The wind hits the side of my face, and I can feel it down my neck. I shiver but it feels kind of good. I bend and give Trigger a hug with my arms, nestle my face against his neck. His hair is so soft. I breathe in his scent.
“What a good boy; that was amazing,” I tell him, and give him a pat. I feel the power of his body underneath me, and I feel this special thing that happens when a horse wants to be with a person. Trigger shivers and blows air out his nose. I think he understands me! I’m in love.
Trigger and I take a right onto a plowed-flat snowy road with no cars, and soon we are riding side by side with Cass and Gus. The sun has already dipped behind a far-off ridge of trees, leaving the sky a deep, dark blue with streaks of this unreal pink. I can just make out the big red barn in the distance. For a few minutes Cass and I ride together without talking. The only sound is the rhythm of the hooves against the packed-down snowy road. High steps. Clip-clop, clip-clop.
I listen to the dreamy twilight.
I breathe in deeply.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
“Honey, I just love being out here together with you,” Cass says, turning to smile at me with a wink.
My heart feels so good. I bite down on my lip and look back at Cass.
The snow is falling all around us.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
Right before we turn off the road into the long, curvy driveway leading to the barn, Cass says to me, “Bear, don’t you love how a blanket of snow makes everything feel new? It’s like a blank slate—a fresh start.”
“Yeah.” I turn and look at her and Gus beside me. I hope I never forget this. A fresh start, I think to myself. That sounds good. That sounds right.
23.
NIGHTTIME: AFTER HER BATH AND stories, two trips to the bathroom, and one glass of water, Rosie tells Cass she would like me to tuck her in. When I climb the stairs and walk into Rosie’s room, she doesn’t see me at first. She’s fresh from the tub, and her hair has just been braided into the cutest little braids. She’s talking to her new stuffie elephant, whispering in its ear, hugging its neck. Her room is right beside mine and is filled with toys and a little desk. Her scribbly colorful art covers an entire cork wall. The other walls are pale pink with tangerine and yellow polka dots. There is a hanging mobile of cheerful wool felt giraffes over her bed. The room glows with the soft twinkle of a Winnie-the-Pooh night-light. When Rosie sees me, her whole face smiles.
“Sissy,” she gasps, like I’m the greatest thing ever. She moves over immediately, making room for me to lie down beside her. She’s wearing her new Christmas flannel jammies. They’re super cozy and white with red and blue starfish. As soon as I curl up next to her, her hand finds my hand under the covers and her tiny fingers wrap around mine.
“Hi,” she whispers. She squeezes my hand and giggles softly. She’s staring into my eyes, fluttering her lashes. She’s so cute. I know I’ve already said that, but—when I look at her, I get this pang of pain. Pretty soon, I’m going to wake up, right? Pretty soon I’m going to be me again. Rosie feels so good to snuggle with. She smells like bubble bath and baby breath.
“Did you have a fun Christmas?” I ask her. We are staring into each other’s eyes under the covers.
“Yeah,” she breathes, and tries to keep her closing lids open. I can tell she’s sleepy. Rosie flops over and snuggles into my body. I watch her little chest go up and down.
“Sissy,” she says in the softest tiny voice.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper, and squeeze her.
I close my eyes, but only for a second. I hear Cass and feel the weight of her body lie beside me.
“Oh, my sweet girls,” she sighs. I feel her warmth against my back. We are like three peas in a pod, Rosie, me, and Mom.
I feel more at home lying here than anywhere I’ve ever been. I take my braids out, and Cass runs her fingers through my hair. It feels so good. We stay like that for the longest time.
It’s quiet for a few minutes, and I suddenly become very worried. The words come out without me really thinking—“I’m afraid of losing you,” I whisper into the hush. My voice gives away the fact that I have tears in my eyes. But I’m just . . . I feel like . . . I can really trust her. I feel safe.
Cass hugs me to her. “Oh, Bear, you can never lose me. I love you so much, and there’s nothing you could ever do that would make me leave you.”
It’s hard for me to swallow, but I soften to Cass’s heartbeat, which I can feel against my back. I want time to slow down. I want to press pause and stay right here in this hug with Cass breathing, like, three inches away from me. I feel her hand slide under my arm and pull me in tight.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she breathes.
“Merry Christmas,” I say softly, tears trickling down my cheeks. I don’t sleep, though. I don’t close my eyes. I stay up as long as I can, trying to memorize how I feel right here. Right now.
24.
OH MY GOSHHH, IT’S HAPPENING again, is what I’m thinking as I am free-falling through outer space. For a few seconds, time seems to slow down: my body spins—arms and legs flailing—in tumbling, dizzying somersaults. I don’t collide with stars or knock into any meteors, but this time my journey through the galaxy isn’t quite as smooth as my first! It’s clunky. I feel queasy. There’s an extremely loud whooshing sound as I drop through the air, then finally bounce hard onto a stiff, cushioned seat.
Okay.
Wow.
As soon as my body is no longer moving, I instantly begin breathing heavily and feeling like I’m going crazy. Why is this happening to me? What is happening to me? Also? There’s this: I cannot see!
As in: it is totally dark.
I have some kind of mask covering my eyes.
Yes, I begin to panic! I move my hands up to my face and whip whatever is covering my eyes off, and—
Oh, whoa, I think. Whoa! My mouth is wide open. My jaw is dropped. I am looking out a small oval window to my left and I see clouds! The big white puffy kind. And I see a whole lot of orange-strawberry-colored sky!
“Oh my gosh,” I say, hearing a voice come out of my mouth that is not Dakota’s and definitely not mine. It’s soft, with a kind of warm, raspy tone. I blink my groggy eyes and squint through the window.
There is so much light.
Light and sky.
About that: I am on an airplane!
My heart starts racing. I have never flown on a plane in my life! I swallow and turn my head to the right. I am sitting beside a total stranger: she’s young, maybe twenty-five or so, with messy undone deep brownish-black hair, down around her shoulders, long and loose and wavy. She has the same eye mask on that I just took off. She’s dressed in, like, laid-back meets totally stylish: a long-sleeved light-gray sweater, a loosely looped lavender scarf, stretchy black yoga pants, sheepskin lace-up furry boots. Her hands are gripping a closed book. I turn back to the window and look out. My heart is seriously racing—I am filled with the most intense fear! I’m like, Where am I? Who am I? I feel nauseous. I stare through the oval glass. Is this really happening? I watch the sherbet-colored sky and remember last night, snuggling with Cass and Rosie—three peas in a pod, Cass telling me how much she loved me . . . being with them was the best thing that has ever happened to me. I begin to feel my heart in my throat. I miss them so much. Does that sound strange? I know I only knew them for, like, one day, but it was just the best day ever! It was so great. Now I’m flying on a plane to who knows where, feeling like I might throw up. My hands are tingling. I glance down and spread my fingers: I have bounced into the body of someone with caramel-brown skin and perfectly manicured fingernails painted bubblegum pink, with tiny nail art designs: a skull, eyeballs, geometric patterns, and polka dots. I look at them up close. They’re kind of awesome! I am wearing tight-fitting black leggings with a hooded purple camouflage sweatshirt and bright-white sparkly Converse high-top sneakers. I have huge headphones hanging around my neck. I can hear the music blasting out—it’s that same song that Carmen loves! And in an instant my sister’s voice rings in my head. Jasmine is perfection! I really, freakin’ love her! and I get this sudden jolt and it all floods back—
Carmen.
Christmas Eve.
The party.
For the billionth time I try to wrap my brain around what is happening to me, or, like, how I have the sudden ability to travel seemingly through walls and zip through space!
Then I hear a voice.
I look to my right, across the aisle, at a glamorous woman who is talking very loudly. She looks straight from the pages of a fashion magazine. She has peachy skin and stained berry lips and she’s wearing big, oversize dark sunglasses. I’m pretty sure she’s definitely a movie star or a supermodel or something. Her honey-blond hair is cut ultra-short and sleek, and she looks polished and clean in her formfitting navy-blue dress and matching high heels, with a huge mink coat draped around her shoulders. I can’t stop staring. No detail is undone. But—
She’s in a terrible mood!
“Excuse me? Are you listening?” she snaps at the flight attendant guy. “This is quite obviously not cooked! It’s cold.”
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” the flight attendant responds calmly. “Would you like me to reheat it?”
Movie Star/Supermodel shakes her head. “Oh, God no,” she says. “Unbelievable. Did you hear me?” She pushes her sunglasses up and speaks in slow, carefully chosen words. “What I’d like is for you to make me a new one.”
“Ma’am”—the flight attendant bends down and lowers his voice—“the food is not actually cooked in the air, even in first class.”
Movie Star/Supermodel rolls her eyes. “Go, then—just take it,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “The sight of this disgusts me.”
While I’m staring across the aisle with my mouth kind of open, the girl sitting next to me slowly pushes her mask up to her forehead, opens her eyes, glances toward me, and beams out this huge smile. She is, wow. She is really, really pretty.
“Hey, you,” she says. Her eyes are big and sparkly. “Merry Christmas!”
“Wait, it’s still Christmas?” Yes. I blurt this out.
The girl looks a little puzzled. “What do you mean, still Christmas?” She turns her head so we’re eye-to-eye. “Hey, how’s your headache? Feeling any better?” She studies my face, then gives me another smile. “Why don’t you try and get some more sleep? We have such a busy day and our thing tonight.”
Oh God. “Thing tonight?” I manage.
She looks at me funny. “Are you okay?”
“Not really,” I answer honestly, and bite my bottom lip. I watch her reach down and lift a black leather handbag off the floor and set it in her lap. She glances at me like, I’ve got just the thing for you, reaches in, and pulls out a tiny little bottle with a spray top and holds it right up in front of my mouth.
“Well—” She giggles.
I look back at her like, Well what?
“Stick out your tongue, silly!”
I follow her instructions, and she sprays a sweet-tasting mist straight into my mouth.
“A little Rescue Remedy should do the trick.” She returns the tiny bottle to her handbag, reaches out, and gently covers my hand with hers. “Hey, so are you feeling a little bit nervous about—” She stops, probably because I look like I’m about to throw up.
My palms are sweaty.
My stomach is nervous and fluttery. I am trying to do everything I can to hold it together.
The girl reaches down into her bag again, pulls out a water bottle, and hands it over to me. “Dehydration can make you feel super tired. We both need to drink plenty of water.”
“Thanks,” I say softly. I lift the water bottle to my lips and drink it in gulps.
“It’s been a rough three days,” she sighs. She has the sweetest sympathetic look in her eyes. “You’re doing it, though.” Her eyes light up. “I’m crazy proud of you.”
I hand the water bottle back and try to smile politely. I wonder what I’m doing and why she’s proud.
My new best friend digs into her bag again. This time she pulls out her phone and checks the time.
“Hey,” she says, looking back up. “We have a few more hours to go. Seriously, why don’t you get some rest?” She breaks into a silly smile and raises an eyebrow. “Unless you’d like an in-flight selfie?”
Before I can answer, she stretches out her arm, holding her phone out in front of us, and leans her head against mine. I lean toward her too, our heads tipped together. There’s something about her that makes me feel like I can trust her.
“Say Merry Christmas to all your fans!” she says.
All my fans? I think, confused.
“Ready? One, two, three . . .”
“Merry Christmas.” I play along and I smile straight into the camera and—OH MY GOD!
It takes a millisecond for my brain to catch up to who I see in the phone’s small rectangular screen. “What the . . . ,” I begin, sounding totally in shock, because I totally am!
I am JASMINE!
The singer Carmen is obsessed with!
I am Jasmine! I am in her body!
I reach up and touch my face as I stare in disbelief at the photo on the screen: I have glowing smooth cocoa skin and seriously amazing hair—waves of springy tight brown curls, beautiful lips, and a perfect nose. My eyes are wide-set and dark brown, and my eyebrows are full and expertly shaped.
“Oh my God, it’s just so crazy,” I say out loud, completely astounded.
“Supercute, right? Except your mouth is wide open!” She giggles. “You look a little bit surprised, but . . . I kinda think that makes it extra awesome.” She smiles. “Want to post it?” She hands me her phone.
“Uhhhh, that’s okay.” I shake my head and push the phone back.
She laughs again and turns to me. “Whatever, but just for the record: I am not playing into that being-mean-to-yourself thing. You’re so hard on yourself, Jazz, you really are. I just love everything about you—I’m keeping this one as my Christmas morning treasure!” She flashes me a sly, playful smile and drops the phone back into her big leather bag, then immediately picks my hand up and holds it quietly on her lap.
“Just close your eyes,” she tells me. “Try and take some nice deep breaths.”
I do. I close my eyes.
I think about breathing. Her hand on top of mine feels soothing.
“With our schedule today, we’re going to need some serious endurance.” She sighs. “It’s a little insane when you think about it.”
