He sat himself in the window sill, held on to both sides as he put his feet out before him. Then he turned, slowly, carefully, rolling onto his belly, his hands inside the kitchen, his feet down the wall, searching for the trellis.

He pushed himself out further, his chest on the window sill now, his arms squeezing against the inside wall of the room to hold him in place, lowering his legs to find the first step.

One foot made contact. There. And then the other.

Would it hold him? Kade kept his arms inside the window, but shifted more of his weight out and down, onto his feet, his arms still ready to catch him.

The trellis held.

He eased out further, bit by bit, transferring his weight, still holding on for dear life.

The trellis held.

He paused to catch his breath. He had to move fast. He could be seen here at any time.

The next move would be the hardest. It was four feet from his window ledge to the top of the trellis below it. There was no obvious handhold in between. He’d have to hold onto the window with one hand, then lower the other to the top of the trellis.

He’d been to rock-climbing gyms. Not often, but a few times. He’d never thought of himself as athletic, but he was tall, skinny, long-limbed. In a gym he could make this move. He could reach. He could grasp the big obvious hold that the horizontal bars of the trellis were.

But in a gym, if Kade failed, the rope would catch him.

Still no choice. The only question was which hand. He could hold onto the window with his stronger left hand, always his off hand before, but the one that worked well now, and reach down with his weaker right.

Or he could hold onto the window with his right, reach down with his stronger left to grasp the new hold.

He’d do it that way. The window sill was thick, solid beneath his weight. The new hold looked obvious, but it was an unknown. He’d use his best hand for that.

He gripped the window as best he could with his right, his whole elbow over the ledge to carry his weight, tried to keep his hips close to the wall, his center of gravity over his feet, to let them take all his weight, and then reached down with his left.

No good. Kade couldn’t reach like this.

He worked his feet lower on the trellis, another step or two. He held onto the window with just his hands now. His right was aching already.

Move fast. Staying still burns you out.

He reached down with his left again, his right hand gripping as tightly as it could, aching, complaining. Almost… Almost…