Not that she was interested, she always told herself, but it felt nice that even the chubby seventeen-year-old Roger was all calf-eyed around her.
Brian was the tall, wiry sort with a passion for rock-climbing and biking. After a whole day spent rafting on the river, he was leading the pack on to what he called a little jaunt on the rocks. Lisa had always been afraid of heights, but never let on in front of Brian or the others. The group of reckless youngsters kept climbing, and she followed. Brian was way ahead of her, exhorting the group to keep going. "Come on, you all, we haven't got all day!" she heard him say.
Lisa could hear the river gurgling below, and the hill seemed somehow empty of air. She kept going, until suddenly the root she had gripped with her left hand slithered out of the loose earth like a clumsy snake, with nothing else around to grasp, only sheer, smooth, rock. She was hanging on to the trunk of a sapling with her right hand. When Lisa glanced down, she realized that in climbing up a short incline of a few feet, she was actually hanging above a gorge a few hundred feet deep with her feet on loose rock.
She choked, and the sound made Roger, w ...