Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Ah,” I chimed in, smiling at him. “I wondered why your dad was in trouble too.”
“But it’s not his fault. He didn’t know what I was gonna do with the leftover.”
“I’m thinking he’s had eighteen years with you,” I told him. “He should know better.”
“And come on, what did he think you were going to use galvanized aircraft cable for?” Kola brought up an excellent point.
“Yeah,” he groused with a sigh, “that’s what my mom thought too.”
“Okay, so you have the cable,” Sam said, still trying to get the whole story.
“Yeah,” Jake apprised him, starting to talk with his hands like he always did. “And I designed the trolley from a pulley and some bike parts, and everything fit perfectly, and I have all those climbing harnesses from when we were youth counselors,” he reminded Kola, directing his words to him.
“Yeah, I know,” Kola groaned.
“And the last thing I needed was the bar to hold on to,” he explained with a shrug, “and it was ready to go.”
Sam nodded. “From where to where, exactly?”
“From the heritage oak by the park, that really big one, to my bedroom window.”
Sam took another long swallow of his beer. “I’m thinking this is where it went off the rails, am I right?”
“No, ’cause the tree was super safe, since it had over a twelve-inch diameter, and I didn’t exceed the six percent riding slope.”
Jake was going to school to become a construction engineer, so I had no doubt that the zipline itself was safe; it was just the planning that missed the “sound” part of safe and sound.
“As you know,” Jake stated, addressing himself to Sam, “there has to be a six-foot drop per a hundred feet of distance, and I had that, easy, it was just––”
“Cable sag?” Kola scoffed.
“No,” Jake said irritably, disgruntled, making a face. “It was just the ending anchor point.”
Sam took another swig of beer.
“Rick Myers, man,” he grumbled. “He broke my bed frame.”
“You’re lucky that’s all he broke,” Kola assured him, exhaling deeply.
“He’s a whiney little––”
“My parents,” Kola snapped, “sitting right here.”
Jake threw up his hands in disgust.
“You had no bungee brake, oh great one,” Kola pointed out. “You’re lucky you had the foresight to put the mattress on the wall.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he reluctantly conceded. “But Jenny Russo did it right. She fell into the pool, no problem.”
Kola shook his head.
“It was not an engineering issue,” Jake argued.
Sam coughed softly. “What is that, between the tree and your house, like three, four hundred feet?”
“Give or take, yeah.”
“Over streets and under electrical lines, huh?”
Jake shrugged.
Sam turned to me.
“It’s down, they took it down,” I told him. “And only, what, nine kids went, in total?”
Jake nodded.
Sam did a slow pan to Kola.
“It was safe,” he promised his father. “Like I said, it was just the anchor on the end in his bedroom that was wonky. And technically, no one was even supposed to get there. He had the harness rigged with a release, so when you yanked on it, it dropped you right out.”
“Into the pool,” Sam offered.
Kola nodded.
“And you and Jennifer Russo did it, no problem.”
“Yeah. And Harper, of course.”
“Of course, Harper,” Sam said, carding his fingers through his thick hair.
“And the other five had no trouble either, but Rick slammed into my mattress and then went home and whined to his mother,” Jake hissed, his voice thick with revulsion. “He’s eighteen, for Christ’s sake.”
“And Rick’s mother called your mother, right?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he said, blowing out a breath. “So I had to take it down,” he finished sadly.
“How did you get everybody up in the tree to take the ride to begin with?” Sam asked. “That’s a long way up.”
Jake looked confused.
Sam turned to his son.
Kola gestured at Jake. “Dad, come on, whose idea was it to build the ramp and jump the bikes from our roof to Harper’s when we used to live next door to each other?”
It was true. Jake had always been a builder, and even though many things—like the ramp of death, for example—had looked terrifying, they were, in fact, structurally sound. It didn’t mean that the bike, no matter how fast it was pedaled, could aerodynamically make the jump, but the ramp itself was solid.
“The swing in the backyard,” Kola reminded both Sam and I, “is just as strong as the day we hung it, and you never thought it could hold your weight, Dad.”
Sam nodded.
“You know what happens when I get bored,” Jake threw out, leaning his head on his hand. “That’s why there’s the bars on my ceiling.”
It was like an upside-down jungle gym.
“Well, use your power for good, willya?” Sam suggested. “I need a better way to clean the gutters. Put your big brain to work on that.”
Jake got quiet, and I knew he was thinking about it.
“How long is he here for?” Sam wanted to know.