Falling
by Astra <astraplain@yahoo.com 

Beverly hurried around the side of the school 
building searching the school yard for her quarry.

*There.  Good, I’m not too late.*

Of all days for M’Karra to keep her after school.  
Something about not paying attention in class.  
Whatever.

She set a careful pace, keeping her quarry in view 
but not getting close enough to be noticed.

*As if he’d notice me anyway.*

She watched as he met some friends, then as a group, 
continued out of the school yard towards McClellens 
Peak.

*The usual Thursday routine.*  Beverly slowed her 
pace, contriving to be “just passing by” if they 
happened to notice her.  They never did.

The group of boys hurried up the slope laughing and 
joking loudly.  Beverly took up her position at the 
bottom of the hill satisfied to wait there, hidden 
from causal passersby by an outcropping of gray rock.  
There she waited and daydreamed most every Thursday, 
hoping for a casual glance or even a greeting.  from 
him when he descended.

Last week he’d actually said, “Hi.”.  She’d been 
goose-pimply for hours and Nana had had to repeat 
everything twice to be heard that night.

Beverly had just gotten to her favorite part of the 
fantasy - where he was working as an artist creating 
beautiful metal sculptures, when she realized 
something was wrong.

The boys were often loud, shouting to hear their 
echoes, but this shouting was different.  It sounded 
scared.

Without thinking, Beverly left her hiding place and 
raced up the hill.  She found them gathered around a 
level area a third of the way up the peak, peering 
over the edge and yelling.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded breathlessly as she 
joined them.  Then she saw him.  He was at least 10 
meters down, laying face down.  Not moving.  His leg 
was bent at a funny angle.

Whirling towards the boys she snapped out orders.  
“One of you go get the healer.  Tell her to bring a 
splint for a broken leg.  The rest of you help me get 
down there.”

As if seeing her for the first time, they started all 
asking questions at once.  Only one boy, the smallest 
of the group, standing farthest from the ledge, had 
the sense to listen to her.  He took off down the 
hill fast.

“My Nana’s the healer.  She taught me some of her 
craft.  Help me get down there so I can help him.  
Now.!”

They finally figured a way, looping all their belts 
together to form a harness.  Slowly they lowered her 
down to the ledge.  It was narrow and he took up most 
of it.  Beverly took a quick deep breath and knelt 
down to examine him.

*Leg broken, definitely,  Doesn’t seem to have a 
concussion.  No other broken bones.  Some bad cuts 
and bruises.  Not too serious.*

She huddled against the solid rock, feeling the wind 
push against her and wished her Nana would hurry up.  
After what seemed like years, she heard her.  

Nana had had the foresight to bring some helpers 
along.  Beverly fastened the splint securely on the 
boy's leg, wincing when he moaned.  Then, with her 
assistance, Nana and her helpers lifted him to 
safety.  From there he was transported to the 
hospital and Beverly was pulled up to the level 
ground.  Nana gave her a huge hug before following 
after the boy.

The other boys drifted away, some of them thanking 
her, some saying nothing.  Beverly didn’t care.  As 
long as he was all right, that was all that mattered.

Two days later he was back at school.  Beverly saw 
him sitting alone, watching as his friends raced 
around playing.  He looked miserable.

Taking a deep breath she walked over to him.  

“Hi.”

“Hi.” he answered back, uninterested.

“How’s your leg?”

“OK.”  He looked at her hard.  “You’re the one who 
helped get me off the ledge.”

“Yes.”  she said slowly, blushing.

“Well, ah, thanks.  I guess.  I mean, I gotta go.”  
And struggling to his feet he hobbled away, leaving 
Beverly alone and feeling like an idiot.

“Yeah.  Bye.”  she muttered under her breath.  “See 
ya.”

*****

That afternoon she went to McClellens Peak and sat, 
cross-legged, at that spot where the boys had stood, 
peering down at their injured friend.  She closed her 
eyes and tried hard to picture her fantasy.  None of 
it, not the metal sculptures, not the happy children, 
none of the carefully constructed images would come.  
They were gone, along with so many of her fantasies.  

Slowly she stood and walked down the slope, leaving 
behind her daydreams.  From that day on she hated 
heights because they were one more thing that had 
taken away someone she loved.

:::: end ::::