This can’t be real.
My head ached. My heart pounded.
It’s all a dream, right?
My breath came hard and fast. The air felt like heavy syrup.
“Orang-asing, you go!”
What did he call me?
I couldn’t go. I couldn’t move!
My white fingers clutched the rough ropes.
My knees wanted to melt like wax, but I willed them to solidify.
Insects buzzed around my face. "Ouch"
My companions shouted over the roaring in my ears.
“Do not look down.”
My eyes peeked to see if the danger was still there.
My heart collided with my epiglottis.
I closed my eyes.
I can do this. I have to do this! They’re watching me.
One foot slid forward an inch . . . then the other. One-two, one-two.
The solid turf of the other side grew closer and closer.
With a burst of adrenaline, I lunged and collapsed in trembling heap.
“Good job, Mom! Next time, you’ll be a pro at the swinging bridge.”
*Orang-asing - Indonesian "foreign person"
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