I thought of Mrs. Micharnd, my gymnastics teacher. She would have encouraged me. In one of my last classes, I was evaluated by a thin, pale, blond man who pronounced I was not good enough for the Olympics?. I didn’t know if he was there on behalf of Sponsors, the Olympic Committee or someone else, but he watched me for only a few minutes. Mrs. Micharnd had put a hand on my shoulder and eased the sour disappointment I felt. She told me his opinion was no reason to give up. Sadly, however, our financial situation was. She would have been glad I’d found something to do with the skills she’d taught me.
Around back, I found a dumpster that let me get a handhold on a thick ledge rimming the first story. I pulled myself up and balanced on the ledge, heel to toe like on the balance beam, but with my left hand palm flat against the plastic wall. There was a pipe nearby. Was that my way up? It didn’t look very secure. Gymnastics didn’t involve much in the way of shimmying. Around the corner, I found an electrical box that let me climb to the second floor. The display arrow flickered in my eyes and slowly rotated, hovering in the air, pointing to the roof’s center, which I could not see.
The second-floor ledge was the same as the first, but this time I was out of luck. Even the pipe ended here. I shuffled my way around the whole of the building, wishing I had thought to survey from the ground first. I saw nothing that would let me up. What was I missing?
I was nearly ready to give up when a black rope suddenly fell right before my eyes. Above me was Henri. The arrow faded away. I grabbed the rope and Henri pulled me up with one arm, even though it would have made much more sense to use two.
Henri, Margot and Kel were waiting up top, all in black, all with masks. Wasting no time, Kel handed me a grapple gun and pointed to a nearby roof. Sensing she wanted quick action, I didn’t hesitate. I wasn’t going to disappoint her. I fired it eagerly, and the hook banged off the side of a glass window on the top floor. Margot giggled. Kel stood firm. Henri pressed a button, and the grappling hook zipped back, almost knocking me over when the hook locked back in the barrel. It was like taking a punch. I didn’t let it show, though. I had to get this right.
High above, a light turned on at the window. A distant figure scanned around. We crouched low, and Kel did something on her Pad. The surface of everyone’s clothes lightened from matte black to the gray of the roof, except, of course, for mine; I was still dressed in my all-black street clothes. Henri and Margot stepped in front of me. The figure above saw nothing and returned to bed.
Undeterred, Kel pointed to another roof opposite the first and indicated I should aim higher. She tapped at her Pad, and a thin arcing line appeared in my eyes, showing me how to aim. I lifted the hook into the ghostly track and shot it over the ledge perfectly. It pulled back onto solid wall. Kel grabbed the end of the line and secured it. Margot handed me a thing she later called a runner: a small motorized clamp that, when pressed, would speed me up to the ledge. Henri indicated I should use two hands, then he hooked a belt and a safety line around my middle. I squeezed the trigger, and off I accelerated.
The building was a good fifty meters away, but I realized that if I kept speeding, I would slam into the side of the building full speed and fall, cartoonlike, to my death. My heart started pounding, and I eased off the grip too much. I slowed, sped up, slowed and then, when the building was near, I crawled along so slowly that Margot caught up to me and pushed me along the rest of the way. The height was unnerving. We were twenty stories up, but I was sweating more from mortification than fear. I felt like I should have been smoother at all of this.
On the roof, Kel shot a wire back to where I had originally aimed. This was our first destination. We traveled across, almost horizontal, with nothing below us but concrete and the hard walls of the dealership.
I wondered if there was any chance a fifteen-year-old girl could die of a heart attack.
On the second roof, all the climbing gear was stowed. Kel pulled a bundle off Henri’s back and threw it to me. Inside I found a full set of clothes, matte black like theirs, and a mask. Obviously Kel wanted me to change, but where? The roof was a flat expanse, except for the small structure that housed the emergency door. I looked at Kel. Maybe I could change inside?
She shook her head, as if reading my thoughts. She impatiently pointed to indicate I could make my way to the far side of the structure door if I wanted to be bashful. It shouldn’t have mattered, but I wasn’t ready for these people to see me in my underwear.
Margot came over and escorted me to the side, pulling a piece of long, thin black fabric out of her bag, which she held up to shield me. Thank you, Margot, thank you!
Kel pulled out her Pad and looked into the building, focusing on an apartment two floors down. She found two more sleeping bodies, then a bedroom with a child, then another kid and a third. She showed me, so I could see the layout, and who was where, but I saw something else: a family, two parents and three kids, all living together in a home. A pang of longing slowed the pounding of my heart. Down in Carolina, my parents slept, unaware of what I did.
Kel held up five fingers, oblivious to my ache. Henri made for the outcropping stairs, but Kel stopped him. She made a flipping gesture with her hand. The three of them pulled out their gear to rappel down and set it over the side. Kel took me with her. While Henri worked hard to unlock the window, she paused to appraise me. Did she see something, or was she just checking to see how I was doing? I tried to put thoughts of home and family away. I didn’t want her to see any emotion in me that might give her pause.
The window clicked, opened up, and one by one, each of us dropped inside. I hit with a low, discreet thud—but the three of them made no sound at all. Henri rushed over to me and reenacted his landing in slow motion, showing me how I should bend my knees and roll from heel to toe to dampen the sound. He then went to make some encouraging gesture, like a pat on the back, but stopped, like he’d short-circuited with embarrassment.
They worked fast. It was a simple placement, a bottle of Righthaven Wine? from a high-end East Kansas vineyard. Margot handed me a small, disk-shaped light and pointed above where Henri was setting the bottle on a pedestal. With her hands, she told me to set it in place to shine down on the display.