Chase turned, stepped up to the wall, and without even seeming to pause to look, practically floated up the rock face, one fluid swing and push after another. In no time she hung just below the lip of the crest and, holding on with one hand, swung the other arm up to grasp the ledge. Her other arm followed and, for a second, her legs dangled in the air as she pulled herself up and over.

Ford snorted. “Even if I make it all the way up, I’m not sure I can pull myself over the top like that.”

“I’m pretty sure Chase and some of the counselors will be up there. They won’t let you fall.”

“Theoretically.” Ford squinted at them. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“A few times, yeah.”

Ford rolled her eyes. “You’re so full of it sometimes.”

Marty’s chest warmed, not from embarrassment, but because the way Ford said it had held a hint of friendliness. Not sarcasm.

“Could be,” Marty said.

When it was their turn to go, Philippe stepped over, checked their harness, and said, “Looks good. Have a good climb.”

Marty checked the tension on the guideline just to be sure and assessed the wall. They’d been studying the wall while Chase climbed and had mapped out a course that looked doable. There were plenty of hand and foot holds, but they had to account for their height and their leg reach and how strong their arms were relative to their legs. Philippe tapped them on the shoulder. “Go.”

Marty stepped close to the nearly vertical cliff face, judging the incline to be perhaps fifteen degrees, decided on the first handhold, stretched up an arm, gripped, and rose. From there, they forgot about the sounds from below or the voices from above, aware only of the sun on their back, the rough rock beneath their fingertips, and the next crack to wedge a toe into. The slight swing of their shoulders to stretch out and up for a new handhold, the push of thigh and the curl of knee to set a toe and push up, became a rhythmic counterpoint to the rush of their breath and pounding of their heart. They had no idea how long it took before an arm and a hand stretched down.

“Forearm grip,” Chase called.

Marty pressed close to the cliff face, braced their thighs to steady themself, and reached. Their hand closed around Chase’s forearm. The guideline tightened even more, and in the next instant, they were standing on level ground. The exhilaration of having completed the climb rushed through them then.

“Very nice,” Chase said, focused on the next climber. “Water and some nutrition back there a ways.”

Marty grabbed a PowerBar and some electrolytes and waited a few feet back from the ledge. Ford came up before too long, and when she got her feet under her, Marty said, “Nice going.”