The Under Review - Issue 4 | Summer 2021

BELDEN 39
“You’re going down, boy,” he said, preparing to serve. He hit a high floater, and I set up to return it. The
birdie seemed to take a full minute to come down, and as it fell, Richie screeched like a pterodactyl, trying
to distract me. But I managed a clean rope of a shot to the far edge of the court, and he couldn’t get there
in time. 13-18.
He scooped up the shuttlecock and shot it at me like a bullet. When I walked back to serve, I smiled,
knowing I now had a chance.
The day before, while horsing around in the yard, Richie had asked me to catch him in a trust fall, like we
used to do when we were younger. One of us would stand in front of the other, facing away, and fall
backward, trusting the other to catch him.
“Me first,” he said.
We hadn’t done trust falls in ages, and I wasn’t sure how this would go—Richie now stood about six inches
taller than me and twenty pounds heavier. He waited longer than I expected, trying to throw me off, which
was what he used to do when we first played this game. “Come on,” I said, and he finally fell back. Somehow
I managed to grab hold under his arms before he could land on the ground, and with a grunt I pushed him
back up to standing.
“Your turn,” he said.
I stood in front of him and felt his presence right behind me. When we were younger, I would dread the
backward fall—I was never sure if I could trust him to catch me—but Richie had always been there.
“Ready?” I said.
“Absolutely.”
I shut my eyes and fell. I immediately knew he’d stepped away—I could sense him disappearing. My butt hit
the ground first, then my elbows, and, finally, my head. It didn’t hurt that much on the grass, though I
scraped my elbow enough to draw a little blood. But I did experience a momentary sense of shock, the way
I felt once when, in the dark, I’d misjudged a step and went sprawling. Richie laughed and laughed, and I
ran inside so as to not cry in front of him.
ISSUE 4 | SUMMER 2021