Dreaming Of Flying

The slam of the door echoed around us, a sharp bang that sent birds screeching out of the trees. I watched sullenly as the only living beings for miles left us alone in the deserted cement clearing, a sense of dread rising as quickly as the birds that had fled. A hard pound on the back by a hand shaped rock tilted me forward off my feet, stumbling as the youthful laughter carried on the empty space around us.

"C'mon, Mikey, you aren't getting cold feet yet, are you?" the carefree voice asked, although the simple question wasn't anything less then a prodding taunt, "Where's your sense of fun?"

"Back home," I quipped back, reluctantly hoisting my towel over my destined-to-be-sunburnt shoulder. The rough material scratched along sensitive skin like sandpaper, it was worn out like a dog after fifteen long years of companionship but I'd never give it up. It was my first and only Captain Astro towel, given as a Christmas present from my Uncle Vic back in the days of crayons and glue sticks, and I swear that it was the first of many Capt. Astro possessions that I would come to own.

This 'ripped, torn, and faded disaster' had history.

Crunching through the underbrush, however, and stopping every few minutes to untangle a branch from one of the holes in the material had me second guessing my choice in swimming accessories.

Yes, Brian, I hear you threatening to leave me here.

A canopy of leaves blocked out the grey skyline, sending us into a pitch black terrain far from our own with only each other's voices for company. Noises were louder in the dark, more frightening, and even though I never said a word of my fear to him, Brian invisibly showed up by my side and we talked ourselves out of the darkened hole.

Now, though, staring at the brunette boy beside me through a wave of mist and condensation, I kind of wish we were back in the trails. Heck, or even at the diner… have some hot chocolate and lemon bars freshly made and on the house from Mom.

"We are not going to jump," I argued, the growl of the rushing water a hard enough competitor to deal with without the devilish smirk from taller boy.

"Course we are," he answered, in that cool and unattached voice of his. It gushed with excitement, his body tensed and ready to jump as brown eyes grinned at the base of the falls greedily. Already checking out a good spot to land. "Haven't you ever wondered what it feels like to fly like the heroes in the comics?"

"Yes, but I'd rather be whole bodied then the next Ironman."

The dark eyes met my own, an eyebrow rising and that charming smile of his just egging me on to try and not jump with him, "Jeezus, Mikey, you sound exactly like your mother." He stepped forward and took my towel, throwing it to the forest floor with his own, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pulling me toward the edge of safe ground, "Live a little. Give in to the temptation, the dream—"

"Who says I dream of this?"

"What comic book nerd hasn't dreamed of flying?

I really had no answer to that.

"Just hold on tight if you want, Ms. Lane, while Superman takes the plunge."

With that last sentence, he gave me a cheeky grin before jumping forward, hovering over the edge of space and certain death, before plunging into the billowing plumes of water.

I blinked in surprise, watching him poke his head up and out of the water a couple meters away from the bottom of the waterfall, waving me in.

With a sigh, I close my eyes, toes curling into the squishy dirt. "Why am I always Lois Lane?" I groaned to myself, sealing away any second thoughts before pushing off the ground; the roar of the tumbling and swirling water suddenly under my leaping feet.