Part 15 (2/2)
”I can't! I can't! I can't!”
We slip off the edge, plunging into the ravine, and the moment before the explosion I can feel Ca.s.sandra's breath in my ear as she whispers, ”Welcome to eternity.”
A blinding flash, and I'm- -spinning out of control.
A school bus on an icy day Andy falls to the floor.
”Oh my G.o.d, oh my G.o.d, oh my G.o.d.”
I've always been on this ride. From the moment that Ca.s.sandra, in her bright orange car, cut in front of the bus and sent it spinning out of control, I have been riding. It has dominated my life, playing in my dreams, my daydreams, and every thought I have. This is how Ca.s.sandra can trap me-because, in a way, I never left this bus. I've been riding since I was seven years old.
We crash through the guardrail. I drag myself to the back.
If there's a way out of every ride, there has to be a way out of this one. There has to be. What am I not seeing?
You have to remember what you did.
I'm at the emergency exit again as the bus tips at the limit of its balance. My thoughts race too fast to hold on to. If only I could think. There has to be something I'm missing. I survived this accident. How did I do it? I close my eyes. I take a breath.
”Open it, Blake!”
No, Mrs. Greer. No, I won't open it. I have to slow down. I have to think. Force myself to remember. Let myself remember.
And all at once a rusty hinge in my head is jarred loose. My eyes snap open.
”This isn't how it happened!”
”What do you mean?” shouts Ca.s.sandra. ”Of course it's how it happened!”
I turn to her, realizing something for the first time. ”You didn't hang around to see, did you? You drove past the bus, cut in front of it, and sent us spinning, but you were gone before we crashed. You never saw what happened!”
”This is your ride!” she insists. ”Your memory!”
”My memory's wrong!”
We slide into the ravine. An explosion, and I'm- -spinning out of control.
Andy falls.
”Oh my G.o.d, oh my G.o.d, oh my G.o.d.”
As real as it seemed before, it's even more real now, because this time it's not just half the memory-it's the whole memory.
I fall from my seat, terrified. My face hits the floor.
”Hold on, Blake.”
There are other kids in the aisle. Everyone's screaming.
We crash through the rail.
I see the emergency exit door. I'm climbing over my friends to get out-to get to that back door. Climbing over the backs of my friends to save myself. I have to get out. I have to. Others try to climb over me-everyone's in the same panic-but I'm the fastest. I get there first. The bus tips, and I grab the emergency exit release.
”Open it, Blake!”
I tug and I tug. ”I can't, I can't, I-”
And the latch gives. The door opens, swinging wide. I did open the door! I did! That's what I refused to remember all those years. I did open that door!
Now I'm standing at the back of the bus. The world seems to stop, poised on the moment the way the bus is perfectly balanced on the edge of the cliff. Balanced. I am the balance.
Suddenly I was no longer on the bus; I was watching the whole scene unfold from the outside. I stood on the icy road, looking up to see my seven-year-old self standing at the open emergency exit door, the bus teetering back and forth, balanced on the edge.
The rear wheels of the bus were high off the ground, so high that from here, I could see the spinning drive-shaft and transmission. The Works.
”Jump, Blake,” I heard Mrs. Greer yell from inside the bus. The little boy at the back of the bus-the boy whom I once was-hesitated. It was such a long way down.
As I watched, Ca.s.sandra danced around me, thrilled to know the truth of my survival. ”You jumped, didn't you! That's why you survived!” Her mud-toned silken shroud fluttered with every motion of her arms. ”You jumped out the door, and that's all it took to push the bus over the edge!”
I didn't answer her. I just watched as the little boy at the back of the bus closed his eyes and leaned forward, just as the bus slipped another foot. That terrified little boy somehow found it in himself to leap from the back of the doomed bus. Even though no one else jumped with him. Even though he knew he'd be the only one out. Even with the burden of guilt he would have to bear, he-I-still chose to live. He jumped from the back of the bus, and I opened my arms, catching him. He was almost weightless, his sobs barely audible in my ears as the bus tipped and began its final slide off the edge.
Ca.s.sandra stopped her dance and came in so close, I could hear her voice not just as a whisper in my ear, but inside my head. ”They all died because you jumped!”
”No,” I said calmly. ”The bus was going over anyway.”
”You'll never know that for sure!”
”No. I won't.”
”And you'll never change what happened.”
”No. But I can get off this ride. Forever.”
The back end of the bus disappeared over the edge. I held the boy in my arms safe from the flash of heat and from the sound of the explosion, knowing this was the last time I'd ever have to hear it. It's all right, Blake. It's over now. I'll hold you and comfort you, and I'll forgive you for being the lucky one. I forgive you for not being strong enough to hold that bus up with your bare hands and save them all. I forgive you for surviving. I held him tight, until I realized there was no one at all in my embrace. I was wrapping my arms around myself.
The ride was finally over.
I had made it out.
16.
Reality Falling The world-the real one, that is-takes a lot of abuse, but it just bounces back. Resilient-that's the word. However we try to twist it, whatever weird stuff we throw at it, it still holds firm, always there.
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