Cinderland by Amy Jo Burns

Author:Amy Jo Burns [Burns, Amy Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8070-3704-1
Publisher: Beacon Press
Published: 2014-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

My body felt aflame and my skin flushed as the kids around me pulled from their trances. Lockers slammed shut, voices called to one another. The rush I felt rivaled the one I had when I learned I’d been chosen to be editor of the school newspaper the following year. My stomach contracted, my fingers went cold. Perfectly crafted into an almost compliment, Simon’s statement had a live edge, so that when given, it cut a little, too. I read it over and over later that night, dissecting it and putting it back together again.

Reading Simon’s words gave me a smolder, a sign of life inside my crumbling cask of a heart. The sensation led me to believe he possessed the power to cure my illness.

Picture this: my body on a trampoline, brown hair floating and gleaming, dressed with golden highlights. The scene—Simon’s front lawn, all the guests at his graduation party shuffling back and forth from the food to the constellation of card tables. The yard was stuffed with people. I came with my parents because Simon knew everyone; everyone here knew everyone.

The trampoline, wide and black with blue skirting, stood shunted to the side, not far from the mass of cars, most of them American-made. When I arrived, I’d intended to shoot straight for the party’s nucleus, the head of the snake, and insert myself there. Simon would have to notice me then.

But the trampoline waylaid me, lounging in disuse while a few small children shyly felt its legs. The need to jump—to fly—gripped me as it never had during my short season as a cheerleader.

“Hey,” I said, bending toward a little girl circling the tramp’s perimeter. “You wanna fly?”

She giggled and turned her head to the side, bashful. I hoisted her up, setting her on top of the springs before kicking off my sandals. It was hot that day, and the grass caught in the trampoline’s shadow felt cool on my feet. After pulling myself up, I asked her if she wanted to play popcorn. She did.

“Tuck yourself into a ball,” I told her. “Wrap your arms around your legs and don’t let go.”

We set out, timid at first, a few light jumps that lifted her bottom inches from the bouncing pad. Soon we started to jump high, she and I, opposing forces. She flew when I landed, the nylon stretching and giving way beneath my feet. My pressing down propelled her upward. We both reached higher and higher, tossing each other in the air. She squealed with delight, hiccupping as she landed. The fear of falling no longer grounded me. After a year of wondering whether there was any hope left for me, a resounding YES thumped in my chest.

“Hold on,” I said. “I think we can get you higher.”

I dug into my landing. Sweat streaked through my hair. Higher now, higher. Our speed quickened as we turned jagged circles around each other. Just a little higher now. And there, finally. She flew. Really flew, her body limned in sky.

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