As Easy as Falling Off the Face of the Earth by Lynne Rae Perkins Page A

hands, and he found himself suddenly unable to do that.
    It was the height. If he were only a few feet off theground, in this exact same position, he wouldn’t even think about falling. He hadn’t thought about it out on the other limbs. But I’m not only a few feet off the ground, he thought. It seemed certain that the instant he let go, he would topple over and go into free fall, meeting the ground with a breath-robbing, crunchy-gooey, heavy thud. He could imagine the thud. In reality, he probably wouldn’t hear the thud. He would be unconscious. If he was lucky.
    He decided to do as much of the operation as he could one-handed, so he could hold on with the other hand. Holding on with his left, he took the coil of rope with his right. He found the end of it and let the middle fall. Don’t think about it. Think about the knot.
    Ry managed most of the knot with the heels of his hands resting on the limb. When he had to lift a hand away, he made sure the other hand was holding on. He was giving the knot one last quick tug when a loud crack split the air. It was a semi-distant crack; he didn’t think it had anything to do with him, though it startled him and he was already wobbly. He had both hands on the limb again, a safer feeling.
    But then the limb shuddered and gave way beneath him.
    Ry fell with the limb, clutching it as if it could save him. Together they fell, fell, fell. Passing before life’seyes, because life was standing as still as a statue; it was Ry that was moving. Moving too fast. Moving down. Picking up speed.
     
     

     
    And then he stopped.
    With a jolt and a rebound, he was suddenly suspended in midair by the harness Del had made him wear. Oh, yeah! he thought. The harness! He dangled twenty feet or so above the ground. This was an estimate, based on how, as Pete and Arvin trotted over, they looked. Bigger than ants or chipmunks, but not as big as he wanted them to look, which would be actual size. Was it panic he saw on their upturned faces, or just interest? It was hard to tell from here. Through the jumble of blood crashing in his ears and his heart thumping, he heard Del’s unflustered voice, off to the left somewhere, say “Oops.”
    Looking over, Ry saw him scamper across a roof.
    “Hang on,” Del called out. Ry hung on.
    But now that it was detached from its tree, the tree limb was heavy, and its dead weight wanted only to crash down onto the ground. He could feel the death-grip of his knees and thighs loosening. He was going to drop it. And Pete and Arvin were directly below him, as if they meant to catch him. They were in the perfect position to be wiped out by the falling limb.
    “Watch out!” Ry bellowed. “I have to let go. It’s going to fall. MOVE!”
    Pete and Arvin grasped the imminent threat and scattered.
    Ry let go. The limb fell the rest of the way. It bounced once or twice, then lay still. Hanging in space, Ry looked down at it. Then around him, at the empty air. Farther off, he saw the gutter running along the roof edge of a two-story house, at eye level.
    He hung there diagonally, balancing himself by holding fast to the ropes he was suspended by. One was tied to another tree. The other went to the remaining limb of the tree they were removing. He hoped that whatever had happened to his limb wouldn’t happen to that one, too.
    In an unwelcome surprise development, Ry was suddenly aware that he needed to pee. He would have to block it out. Mind over matter. Easier said than done.
    Del had reached the roof edge closest to where the other rope was tied. He paused for a bare microsecond to lay out his path, his plan. Then, in one fluid movement, he lowered himself to a porch railing, reached out for a limb, hoisted himself onto another limb, took a couple of quick steps, and dropped nimbly into position within theV of the bifurcating trunk, where he began to work the rope he had tied there.
    As if he did this every day.
    Maybe he did.
    Ry watched in admiration. How did he