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rolling his shoulders as if he was on a casual stroll down the beach. “I can handle this.” “Then shut up and start handling it,” she said through her teeth.
Jim laughed. The plane tilted violently onto its side and for a moment, she was certain they would roll over and slam into the ocean. The grin on Jim’s lips slipped, and then she really began to feel nauseated.
“What’s wrong?” she shouted, resisting the urge to grab onto his arm and hang on for dear life.
“We’re fine!” he insisted.
The island rushed up to them. Too fast too fast, she thought, pressing into her seat with her eyes stretched wide and her heart pounding. Palms whipped past them, and suddenly there was a ribbon of tarmac unraveling below. The plane slammed onto the ground and Sophie was certain that was the end, it was over, she would die—but Jim was
laughing and saying, “See? No problem! That was easy as—” POP POP POP.
Something snapped, something Sophie knew was most likely not supposed to snap, and the plan went into a violent spin, skidding out of control across the pavement. She was thrown against the door, then against Jim, her seat belt cutting into her diaphragm and making it hard to breathe. Everything whirled around her as if she were caught in a giant blender, colors and shapes coalescing into a dizzying rush. An earsplitting screech sliced through her head, a thousand nails on a thousand chalkboards, or forks scraping china plates, so loud that she felt it vibrating in her teeth.
She felt Jim’s arms around her, holding her tightly against him, and she pressed herself into him and was so seized with terror that she couldn’t even manage a scream.

FOUR
JIM
T hough it felt like the crash dragged on in slow motion, it only lasted a few seconds before the plane ground to a stop, propped on its wing and nosing slightly upward. The propeller still spun in front of them, clawing at a sky it could not reach.
    For a long moment, Jim couldn’t move. His arms were still locked around Sophie, who had her hands over her face. Her slim form trembled against him. She was utterly silent, and had been through the whole ordeal. He was dazed and shocked—the landing had been going perfectly, smooth as water over glass, and then . . . What? The runway was clear, but it felt as though they’d hit a boulder.
    Carefully, Jim extricated himself from Sophie, keeping one hand on her shoulder. He gently pulled her hands away and found her staring blankly at nothing, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He shut off the plane and the propeller slowly wound down.
    “Sophie?” He looked her in the eye, but sensed she couldn’t see him. “Sophie, are you okay?”
Slowly, her gaze focused on his. She drew a deep, shuddering breath and for a moment, he thought she might start hyperventilating. Hell, what do I do? He thought vaguely of a brown paper bag, but he didn’t have one and anyway, he didn’t see how that would help.
Thankfully, she seemed to gather herself. She pulled away and looked around. They both seemed more shaken than the plane was, though Jim would have to climb out and inspect the exterior before he could know how bad the damage truly was.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No,” she said, her voice wavering. “I don’t think so. You?”
“I’m fine. Come on, let’s get out. Be careful.”
She still seemed hazy, so he reached across her and opened her door, then clicked her seat belt off.
“If you wait, I’ll come around and help you.”
“No, I’m okay.” She slid out of the plane, dragging her backpack with her.
After he was sure she could stand on her own, Jim jumped out his side and gave the Cessna a quick once over. The underside of the floats were streaked and smelled of burning metal from where it had scraped across the pavement, and the wheels lay in four deflated puddles on the runway.
Jim stepped back, ran his hands through his hair, and let out a long, deep groan. Sophie stood