“They were here about an hour ago. We pretended to leave so they would. Then we came back to wait for you,” Andy said. “Remember now, don’t close your eyes. You have to keep them open so you don’t smack into one of the trees. You can do it, Cady. We’ll be waiting for you on the other side of the pond. Amy has her camera. We’ll send you the picture at your new address, okay? You can’t show your mom or dad. If you do, she’ll call our moms and tell them we hang out here. Promise, Cady.”

“Okay, I promise.” She solemnly crossed her heart. She’d seen the pictures of the others taken just as they hit the middle of the zip line. They were all so proud of those pictures because Amy managed to capture their looks of horror, elation, and devil-may-care attitude when they were dead center over the pond, thirty feet above the water. You had to be brave and fearless to ride the zip line. She wanted her own photo, too, so she could show it to her new friends in Vermont.

Cady climbed the hill, slipping and sliding until she made it to the top, where the grove of trees, including the Judas tree, peppered the little bluff. Her heart pounded in her chest when she looked down at the homemade zip line the boys had first hooked up over a year ago. They’d gotten the cable from the junkyard, the wooden handles from Pete’s mother’s shopping bags. They checked the cable every day, and every day they proclaimed it to be safe even though the biggest of all the trees, the Judas tree that stood sentinel over the others, now had deep wounds in the trunk. It was Amy’s idea to move the cable from the Judas tree to the oak tree because it was higher and gave a more thrilling ride. Pete had agreed but not because he wanted a more thrilling ride. He had been concerned that the cable was harming the Judas tree.

“Anytime you’re ready,” freckle-faced Andy shouted. “Go on the count of five. We’ll count together. You can hear us, can’t you?”

“I can hear you. Just hold your horses, Andy Hollister. I’m gonna do it. Give me time to climb the tree and get out to the branch.”

They knew she was afraid. She knew she could just go home and let them think what they wanted to think. In just a few hours, she would be on her way to Vermont, and she would never see them again.

Her insides started to shake. She looked down at the pond. Not a ripple showed on the water’s surface. Her gaze went to the zip line attached to the biggest tree in the grove. She wasn’t afraid to make the jump. Making the jump meant she had to leave the safety of the branch, jump off into thin air, and grab the wooden handle that would enable her to sail down the line. If she didn’t jump the right way, she’d drop thirty feet into the pond. But heights didn’t bother her. It was falling into the water that scared her because she couldn’t swim.