The three trudged to the ledge while Nate took the drone through the shot one more time. He thought of the drone not as a machine but as a good friend who was going to help him reach his film goals. Nate saw life as if he were constantly looking at it through a lens and had dreamed of shooting at the cliff, cataloging the death-defying jumps of his friends.

“All right, you ready?” he yelled.

The three stood at the edge looking down and Nate maneuvered the drone above them, catching light and shadows and the faces of the three. He gave them a countdown and the three jumped together, hitting the water almost simultaneously.

The leap was perfect but Nate glanced in the corner of the screen and noticed the red light wasn’t lit.

“No! I wasn’t filming!” As the three surfaced and began to swim toward shore, Nate yelled, “Guys, can we set it up again? Let’s do it again. Let’s just go back to the top, all right? I gotta bring Millie back and then we can roll it.”

He studied the screen and moved the controls but nothing happened. He glanced up, listening for the whir of the drone’s blades. “Millie?”

They spent an hour trying to retrieve Millie from the tree she was in. Sam and Justin left and David was the one who climbed the tree and finally rescued the drone. One propeller was damaged but Nate was sure he could repair it.

“What are you going to do when I’m not around to jump in the water or climb trees for you?” David said.

“Hey, I will give you all the credit when I win my first Oscar, okay?” Nate changed his voice and dramatically said, “But I want to dedicate this award to the friend in high school who saved my drone, Millie, from ignominy.”

“Ignominy?”

“Yeah, when you give speeches at the Oscars, you have to use big words like that to impress people.”

David laughed then stopped along the trail. He put a hand to the back of his head and bent.

“What’s wrong, man?”

“It’s my headache again.”

“Maybe jumping into the water made it worse?”

“Couldn’t have helped any. But I was glad to do it. Especially since you’re going to give me the Oscar after you win it.”

“Hey, I never said I would give it to you. I said I’d mention you in my speech.”

Susan had taken each birthday seriously, cataloging David’s growth with pictures and videos. On his tenth birthday, the three of them had gone camping in Yosemite and she’d caught David crying on their last day there.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

His chin had puckered. “I’m never going to have this much fun again.”

She had hugged him and promised he would.