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With a grin, Lauren allowed herself to be led.
At the base of the tree, a rope ladder hung off the edge of the platform. It had obviously seen better days.
Sylvie pulled on the ladder. “How long do you think it’s been since anyone used this?”
“Are you having second thoughts about your great adventure Huck Finn?” Lauren yanked on the slats of wood that served as the ladder’s rungs. They looked sturdy enough, but the fraying rope had obviously been exposed to the elements for a while.
“I’m just saying, I don’t think kids have lived here for like a decade.” Sylvie continued to test the ladder like an old man kicking tires of a station wagon and grumbling.
Lauren put her hands on her hips. “It’s okay if you’re too chicken to climb ten feet in the air to a structure built for children.”
“Don’t try to manipulate me, Lauren. I’m not going to fall for your amateurish attempt at reverse psychology.”
Lauren put her hands up. “I’m not trying anything. I’m just pointing out the objective fact that you’re afraid. That’s okay. A lot of people are afraid of heights. It’s nothing to be ashamed of Syl.”
“I’m not afraid of shit. You’re the one that wouldn’t get more than an inch off the gym floor when we had to climb the rope in PE,” Sylvie snapped.
Lauren chuckled. “How long have you been holding on to that one, dear historian of the presidential fitness test? What, do you have a catalogue of my faults at the ready?”
“You made me do it to disabuse you of the notion that I’m scared.” She smirked. “You brought it on yourself.”
“I guess I’m the only brave one here. Heavy hangs the head as they say.” Lauren gave the ladder a hard tug. “See you at the top . . . if you dare.”
Getting up the ladder was not nearly as effortless as Lauren imagined. She did her best to evenly distribute her weight to stop the creaking rope from swaying around. Her thighs burned as she gripped the moldy rope and heaved herself to the top.
“I hope a herd of opossums isn’t up there waiting for you!” Sylvie shouted from the ground as if Lauren couldn’t hear her in her normal speaking voice.
Lauren didn’t dare look down at her. She wasn’t that high up, but she still wasn’t a huge fan of heights.
“I think they’re called a passel.” Lauren leaned in to joking to ease the nerves twisting her stomach and making her palms sweat.
“What?”
Lauren laughed to keep from freaking out as the rope ladder swayed and bumped against the tree with every shaky step. “A group of opossums is called a passel.”
“Did you practice that for occasions such as this Jack Hanna? Do you stay up at night googling what different groupings of animals are called?”
“I like to impress with my vast trivia knowledge,” Lauren shot back without admitting that she did have a mild fascination with collecting bits of random information.
Gripping a worn, silver handle bolted to the floor of the tree house, Lauren tried not to think about plummeting to her death as she scrambled awkwardly onto the dusty wood floor.
The edge of the platform dug into Lauren’s belly as she drug herself up. “This was such a bad idea,” she grumbled to herself as she caught her breath.
Getting down was going to be a nightmare, but that was future Lauren’s problem. Present Lauren was more concerned with spending time with Sylvie.
In a crouched position, as if it might help her survive the treehouse caving in, Lauren tested the wood floor beneath her in the dark room.
“How’s it going up there? Did you find the opossums? Perhaps a family of cookie-making elves?” Sylvie’s voice was muffled by the wooden planks.
Lauren straightened, the vaulted wood ceiling just a couple of inches above her head. There was nothing in the open room but light filtering in through the cracks in the beams and dust collecting in the corners.
“There don’t appear to be occupants of any kind,” Lauren called back. “You can climb up the ladder if you can handle it!” She knew Sylvie well enough that she couldn’t turn down a challenge. Her desire to win was stronger than any fear.
It took a moment to figure out how to open the windows. As soon as Lauren propped the shutters open, a humid breeze whipped through the space cooling the perspiration that had formed on her back and temples.
Lauren returned to the side of the platform where the rope ladder was anchored. She crouched down and watched Sylvie struggle in the same uncoordinated way she had. There was just no way not to look like a cat in socks while traversing the thing.
“I’m surprised a hurricane hasn’t ripped this sucker outta here,” Lauren mused.
