The-Lucky-List-Rachael-Lippincott

My eyes widen, and I give her a “you have to be kidding me” look. “That’s not too bad?” I say, aghast.
She ignores this and hops merrily out of the truck, completely barefoot, while I crawl out,
wondering what the statistics are on people passing out from fear and falling to their deaths.
I kick my flip-flops o as Blake pulls o her T-shirt to reveal a white-and-orange-and-navy-striped
bikini, the colors standing out against her tan skin.
I feel my gaze lingering on the toned lines of her stomach, the curve of her…
I swallow hard on whatever that was and preoccupy myself with ripping o my own clothes, tossing
them onto the passenger seat of her truck. I look down at my black bikini, a stark contrast to Blake’s
brightly colored one.
Crossing my arms tightly over my stomach, I look up to see she’s giving me one of her big,
enthusiastic smiles.
“Let’s do this?”
“Let’s do… this,” I echo, with markedly less pep.
We start walking through the tree-covered trail that will lead us up to the top of the cli, the path
carefully labeled with light blue arrows etched into small wooden signs. Blake leads the way, her steps
smooth and even, despite the small twigs and rocks along the path.
Meanwhile, I’m in my own personal game of hopscotch, the soles of my feet getting stabbed every
time I put my foot down.
I watch as the sunlight trickles soly through the branches overhead, casting shadows on Blake’s
shoulders and legs. We make a sharp turn, then begin the climb to the top. e path suddenly becomes
steeper as we near the water, crystal blue eating hungrily away at the shoreline.
“Did you know your mom had a fear of heights?” Blake asks as we walk.
“I actually had no idea,” I say between breaths. “I was pretty surprised when I saw it on the list.”
We went on a family vacation when I was younger to Puerto Rico, where she did this crazy zip line
in Toro Verde. I was too young to go on it, which had really bummed me out at the time. My dad
stayed behind with me, the two of us peering up at the tree line, watching in awe as people rocketed
past above us. I remember watching her pass by, high above the trees, completely unafraid of the space
between her and the ground below.
“at was my mom, though. Never afraid of anything.” I think back to months before her diagnosis,
when she first started getting bad headaches, writing it o as nothing, even when the pain relievers
stopped really working. “Even when she should’ve been.”
I try not to get woozy the farther we go, focusing on the steady rhythm of Blake’s feet, falling right,
le, right, le, one aer the other, slower now as we near the top, the bright blue sky coming into
view.
Blake stops short in front of a sign with an arrow pointing directly toward the sky, a shoulder-high
ledge separating us from the jumping point.
“Oh, good,” I say, pointing at the arrow on the sign. “is is the part where we ascend straight to
heaven.”
Blake rolls her eyes, but they crinkle with a secret smile. She takes a deep breath and eortlessly
pushes herself up onto the cliff ledge like some kind of parkour expert, turning around once she’s at the
top to oer me a hand. I reach out, our fingers interlacing in the spot where the shadows turn to light,