Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I put my hands on Beckham’s head to steady myself as he went back up. The big-haired woman brought out a disposable camera and held it up, aiming it toward me and Beckham. Her daughter looked morbidly embarrassed at her side, holding a hand up to her mouth and looking down at the ground, no doubt asking for it to swallow this entire scene whole.
“Okay, perfect, you two are so photogenic, hold on.”
“But, but—”
I didn’t want to tell her she wasn’t even getting a picture of the rainbow water behind us.
“You’re okay down there?” I asked. Beckham nodded. I could feel his laughter vibrate through his chest, up my legs.
“I can hold you up there all day.”
And night?
“Oh darn it, this doesn’t have film! Ugh, Candice, grab my other camera. Quick, quick.”
“Mom! What are you even doing right now?” Candice protested as she rummaged through the bright blue backpack on her mom’s back.
“Look at them! They perfectly line up with that wall art back there.”
Ohhh, so it wasn’t about the lake.
The daughter peeked over and seemed to have realized what her mom saw. I noticed a few other people in the crowd were snapping some secret pics, no one as loud as my friend with the hair that had a direct line to Jesus.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Smile!” was my answer. I flashed my most photogenic grin from the top of Beckham’s shoulders.
With the photo snapped, I finally thought my feet would touch the concrete. Who would have guessed this rainbow pool fiasco was going to end up in my missing the ground?
“Okay, you can put me down.”
“Oh shoot! It didn’t save.”
“Mom, we’ve seriously got to go. Like right now. Thank you both—let’s go.”
“Oh, Candice, they’ll want the photo.”
Candice, the problem solver and angsty teen that she seemed to be, whipped out her phone in record speed and took a sequence of photos, the loud shutter of the camera filling the air as if a paparazzo had joined the crowd.
“Well, I mean, Candice, if you could have done that from the start of this trip instead of using the phone I bought you to feed your social media addiction, then maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with this piece of absolute baboon shit.” She lifted the camera in the air.
It was then that things got even crazier.
Her fingers weren’t as big as her personality or her hair. The camera slipped out of her grasp and went twirling through the air—straight toward Beckham’s face. His beautiful, sculpted by the gods, incredibly handsome face. One I wasn’t going to let be harmed by anything, much less a crazy lady’s projectile Kodak.
I moved my hands from his head to his face, covering his eyes.
That… well, it only made things worse. Beckham couldn’t see; he had been scared, and he was holding a one-hundred-and-forty-something-pound guy on the top of his shoulders.
His balance was nowhere to be found. Like me at a Tom Petty concert.
Gone.
Vanished.
Poof.
He stumbled backward. I leaned forward. We still didn’t balance out. His arms shot out. Candice and her mom, bless their cute little hearts, tried to reach for his hands and stop the couple hundred pounds’ worth of body from falling back.
Obviously, they didn’t do much. We went falling backward.
You know that moment on the swing, when you’re going way too high and your stomach feels like it’s about to squeeze out of your peehole? If you don’t, then maybe you never swung high enough. I, on the other hand, loved swinging like a Cirque du Soleil trainee, making both my parents and everyone else on the playground incredibly nervous.
I liked swinging in a playground. That was controlled.
This wasn’t.
Fear grabbed me by the throat as I fell through the air. I’d forgotten all about the rainbow pool and was shocked when my back didn’t hit cold hard concrete.
Instead, the both of us broke through the previously serene water, causing a splash of technicolor and drawing gasps from the gathered people. The pool just deep enough to cushion the fall without either of us getting seriously hurt.
Someone started clapping. I looked to Beckham, who had paint dripping down his face. We were sitting in chest deep rainbow water. I wiped some of it off his cheek, which didn’t really work since my hand was also covered in paint.
And then we both started to crack up.
11 Beckham Noble
I was currently dripping wet in potentially toxic paint surrounded by a cluster of onlookers, some taking photos and video, others offering to help us out, and, all of it considered, I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Not when I look to my left and see a multicolored Oliver, laughing almost to tears. I couldn’t help but join, feeling the absurdity of the situation wash over me like the rainbow we had just destroyed.
There were a chorus of “oh my Gods” being shouted around us. I was vaguely aware of hands reaching out to help us. We were back on solid ground with towels being wrapped around us.