When the time came for the actual jump, I didn’t have opportunity to be terrified.
I had to get on my knees, and let my butt scootch between my knees so the instructor would have enough room to get on top of me and get himself (and the chute) attached.
I felt tugs and clicks as one attachment point after the other connected.
Now my butt needed to come up a bit, the instructor couldn’t get close enough to tether us together.
I tried to obey, lifting my bottom infinitesmely–but I guess it was enough. We were connected.
Now I needed to swing my right leg out onto the ledge.
In ground practice, I’d been the only one of the girls who’d made it all the way to the ledge on the first try. Everyone else’s legs were too short to easily traverse the distance.
In the air, it was completely different. I swung my leg out and the air caught it, pulling it beyond the ledge.
I used all my strength to lift my foot above the ledge and move it forward to a secure resting point.
The tap came to my left shoulder.
It was time for me to grab a strut and then dip down onto my left elbow so the instructor could get himself out through the doorframe.
He tapped my shoulder again, reminding me to let go of the strut.
I was falling. He was falling right behind me. Except not behind me. With me.
I had no fear.
No fear at all.