Chapter Four

Port of Embarkation: Vancouver, British Columbia

Halfway through the three-hour flight, Tanner had taken his headphones back. I was able to twist a couple degrees to see that the aisle seat behind us was empty. Hopefully a flight attendant had had pity on the guy and found him an empty spot elsewhere. Or that parachute.

Tanner didn't seem inclined to acknowledge the awkward kindness of blocking that conversation for me. Since I had no idea what to do with the gesture, I was going to pretend nothing had happened. Two nice acts from him in the last few days was messing with my mind.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and, with no time difference, we arrived around dinnertime. After customs, we'd taken a car to our hotel on Vancouver's waterfront and spent the night. My parents had planned a day to see the city before the cruise ship left.

Now, I stood studying the breakfast options. Every morning, I ate a banana, wheat toast, and a strawberry Greek yogurt. The hotel buffet had toast and bananas, but the yogurt was a strange brand. Would it be sweet enough? And if it wasn't Greek, I wouldn't get protein and then I'd be hungry before lunch.

Tanner stopped beside me. "Are you going to eat it, or did you develop X-ray vision and you're scanning it with your robot brain?"

"If I were a robot, I'd be threatening to assimilate you or exterminate you or upgrade you."

"You know a frightening amount about killer robots. It's good for the safety of the world that you aren't on the school robotics team."

I'd considered it. Not because I wanted to build an evil robot. Just a regular one. But I was already too busy.

I started to grab a yogurt cup then changed my mind. Better to go without than risk it. I took a carton of milk instead and grabbed an extra banana, thinking longingly of my perfectly stocked refrigerator at home.

"Savannah Banana." Tanner grinned and added two yogurts to his plate, which contained a mountain of eggs, toast, fruit, pastries, and some sort of ham/bacon that probably failed to live up to Canadian-style meat promised by American pizzas.

"Planning to feed a small country?" I asked.

"Yes. The one in my stomach." He patted it, which unfortunately drew my gaze. If he always ate this much, how in the world was it so flat?

And why was I looking?

I plopped down next to my dad and focused on my bananas.

Our parents were discussing the plans for the day, and Tanner gulped one yogurt cup and waved the other in my face. "Sure you don't want one?"

"I'm fine."

"It did taste a little…"

"Off? Spoiled? Unsweetened?"

"Canadian," he said.

I rolled my eyes as he laughed and opened the top.

When we finished—Tanner ate his three meals' worth of food faster than I ate my toast—we walked a couple blocks to a stop where we'd catch a bus to the nearby Capilano Suspension Bridge Park. I'd researched its famous wooden simple suspension bridge and was excited to see it.

Actually, Caleb and I had researched it together. I would not, as I had originally planned, be sending him pictures, and that made me twitchy. I didn't like plans changing, and after one day, this trip wasn't going as I had imagined.

It was fine. I would be fine. Just because I liked things a certain way didn't mean I was too set in my ways, like Caleb had said. I could adapt.

Maybe I would send him a picture, after all. If we were going to be friends or whatever, then friends texted. It didn't have to be weird.

It would be weird.

The morning air was cool and crisp, and not many people were out yet. The city was beautiful, with the water, shiny skyscrapers, and mountains in the distance. To get to the park, the bus crossed the bay on an elegant suspension bridge that reminded me of the Golden Gate Bridge before arriving in a parking lot ringed by enormous trees. The sky was bluer here than at home, the trees greener, the edges sharper. Not dulled by smog.

"I bet the stars are amazing out here."

I'd meant to say it to my dad, but Tanner was the one behindme.

"I wonder if they have night tours," he said. "See, imagine how cool the campout this fall will be."

I crossed my arms. "Or, we could do the observatory, like we planned."

"Like you planned. A majority obviously agreed with my idea."

Because they clearly didn't see the possibilities of getting attacked by wild animals, or how equally impressive the meteors would be from Griffith Park with scientists giving talks.

If he ruined the meteor shower for me, I would totally attempt that coup.

A trading post and a large wooden deck overlooked a river gorge, with the simple suspension bridge stretching across it. It would have been unnerving if I didn't know the science was solid. And impressive—no towers or piers, just a hanging structure of rope and wood in an elegant hyperbolic curve.

A sign warned visitors not to run, jump, or shake the bridge. We really needed to pause, read it aloud, and let it sink in, since every one of those sounded like something Tanner would do.

As we crossed it, the bridge swayed slightly. All I saw was the narrow ribbon of it stretching through treetops. The scent of pine, multiple shades of deep green, and the mark of human ingenuity were stunning.

Halfway out, I stopped and peered at the river below, mountains in the distance, pointy fir trees stretching to the sky. The rope railing was smooth from years of hands. The wind whispered through the gorge.

I had the same feeling I got when staring at the night sky, as the hugeness of the world enveloped me, welcomed me into it, promised infinite possibility.

"See, you're not dull," Tanner murmured as he brushed past me. "If only Caleb could see you now."

I twitched, coming back to the present. Was he mocking me? He'd stopped nearby, but he wasn't smirking, was just looking at the view.

What was Caleb doing this week? Our volunteer slots at the museum? Walking his dog? The idea of him participating in our typical activities hurt more than him attending parties withoutme.

Did he miss me? Was he regretting the breakup?

"Is this safe? It's shaky." Tanner put his arms out and pretended to wobble.

Instead of Caleb, I was stuck with Tanner.

"It's shaky because they used the handrails as the primary supports instead of the deck. It makes the deck swing more. Simple suspension bridges are quite safe."

"School's over," he said. "No science during the summer."

"Science is awesome. Especially because I'm better at it thanyou."

"Imagine doing that egg drop experiment over the side of this." He peered over the edge.

"I'd like to never think about that again."

We'd been assigned as partners, and let's just say we wouldn't have gone through enough eggs to make a hundred omelets if Tanner hadn't argued with all my ideas.

But now he had me contemplating. It was an intriguing problem. Were we high enough for a parachute? Was that the kind of project I might attempt if I agreed to Mr. Lin's program? He hadn't emailed me yet, and though I was curious, I was also relieved, because that prolonged my having to make a decision.

"Aw, come on," Tanner said. "We had fun."

"You had fun because we made a huge mess. The janitor is probably still cleaning egg off that sidewalk."

"You enjoyed explaining why my attempts failed, and don't try to deny it."

Okay, he had a point. That had been enjoyable.

I continued on. Wait. We were missing a person. Mrs. Woods had stopped halfway across. Rather than appreciating the view, she stood frozen with her head down and clutched the rope.

Tanner immediately backtracked to join her.

"Afraid of heights," Mr. Woods said. "I should have thought of that."

Mom tsked. "Husband fail. Tanner's handling it."

And he was—within minutes, his mom was laughing, and Tanner had her arm and was leading her toward us. Mr. Woods took over, gripping her hand.

When we reached the other side, Mr. Woods asked, "Why did the bear cross the road?" Without waiting for us to guess, he said, "To eat the chicken."

He laughed, a low chuckle that didn't resemble Tanner's loud one, and Tanner pretended not to hear him.

I shuddered. Like I needed the reminder that we might see bears on this trip, and that they were fully capable of eating not only chickens, but me.

"I'm just glad to be off that bridge," Mrs. Woods said.

A trail led into an old-growth forest, where a series of platforms and walkways had been built into the trees and canopy, around the trunks. I felt like I had stepped into the Ewok village.

"It's like in that old movie," Tanner said. "With the short, furry teddy bears who fight stormtroopers."

I squinted at him.

"You know, before Rey and the emo dude?"

"I know Star Wars, Tanner."

"Those little guys are awesome."

I'd loved them as a kid, all clever with how they used homemade hang gliders, catapults, and rocks to fight the Empire. Even if it was wildly unlikely that their crude arrows would pierce stormtrooper armor.

He turned to walk backward on a bridge. "We should watch the movies in star club next year. Oh! Or we should try to replicate their weapons."

That had nothing to do with astronomy…but it sounded pretty fun. Not that I'd tell him that, the usurper. Thanks for the reminder that he'd be the one making those decisions, not me.

He faced forward again and peered over his shoulder at me as we circled a platform around a massive tree trunk. "Want to race?"

"Sure. I'm right behind you."

"Really?" He took a couple steps toward the next bridge. "Oh. You're messing with me."

"No, racing across narrow bridges high in the trees, filled with tourists and little kids, is a great idea. It definitely won't get us kicked out of the park."

"Or you're afraid you'd lose."

"More like afraid you'd sprain my ankle again."

"Excuse me, I didn't sprain your ankle," he said. "The mountain did."

"Because you told me I could ride the chairlift down, and then they wouldn't let me, and I had to ski down the mountain even though I didn't know how."

"I tried to coach you, but you wouldn't listen to me."

"Excuse me if I wasn't feeling especially trusting at that point."

Whatever. Debating was useless. He never saw himself as wrong, no matter what wild things he was attempting—and attempting to drag me into, like that winter break at Big Bear our freshman year. Right before my first high school track season.

The same arguments, over and over, never produced different outcomes. Since I was fairly certain someone had said that was the definition of insanity, I didn't know why I bothered engaging with him.

We walked in silence, until Tanner's dad stopped beside a fish pond and stared at the platform above us.

"It's fascinating, isn't it, the way they're built without nails or bolts so they don't harm the trees?" he asked.

"I read that they can be loosened and moved to expand as the tree grows," I said.

Tanner jumped to stand on a log that bordered the shallow pond. "Look at all the fish. I wonder if they'd let us spearfish in there."

This was going to be a long vacation.