Shining On by Lois Lowry Page A

again.
    “Where're we going?”
    “To our next stop.”
    I led Kyle further down the stream before I turned us to our left and walked a few steps.
    “Now you have to do exactly what I say,” I told him, leading him down a gentle slope.
    “Are we going to cross the stream here?” he asked, aghast.
    “That's right.” I smiled. “We're going to jump across.”
    “But … but I can't see where I'm going,” Kyle protested.
    “Then use your other senses. I'll help you.”
    “Why can't we use one of the bridges?”
    “Because everyone does that. We're going to be adventurous.” I grinned. “I want you to jump from here like a longjumper. It's less than half a meter to the other side at this point. Just jump, then let your weight fall forward and grab hold of one of the tree roots sticking out of the ground. OK?”
    No answer.
    “OK, Kyle?”
    “D'you really think this is a good idea?”
    “You'll just have to trust me. Once you've grabbed the tree root, haul yourself up out of the way ‘cause I'll be right behind you.”
    “OK,” Kyle said dubiously.
    I straightened him up and said, “Don't worry. My nan can jump half a meter and she's got bad knees—always as-suming I've led us to the right bit of the stream, of course.”
    “You mean you're not sure?” Kyle was appalled.
    “I'm only winding you up,” I told him gleefully.
    “You're enjoying this, aren't you?”
    “You'd better believe it! Now then. After three. One … two …”
    “Three—” Kyle shouted.
    And he jumped.
    To be honest, I was impressed. I didn't think he had it in him. I heard an “Ooof!” followed by the mad scramble of his hands as he sought and found a tree root. He hauled himself up the bank to the level ground beyond.
    “Here I come,” I shouted.
    And I jumped. In a way, I'm sorry Kyle didn't see me. A sighted person couldn't have done it better. I landed cleanly, then stepped up the bank.
    “Are you OK?” I asked.
    “I think so.”
    I turned towards his voice. “How did it feel to jump?”
    “I don't know,” said Kyle.
    “Yes, you do.”
    His sharp intake of breath told me that I was right. “I was … a bit nervous,” he admitted. “I know the water is only a few centimeters deep, but it suddenly felt like it was kilometers deep and kilometers down.”
    “And how did you feel when you landed on the other side?”
    “Relieved!”
    “Anything else?”
    “Yeah. Kind of proud of myself.”
    “Being blind,” I began, “is like jumping off a cliff with the water below kilometers deep and kilometers down— except you jump never knowing what's on the other side of the cliff. Everything's an adventure for me. Walking along the street, going into a shop, meeting new people, even reading a book. I never know what I'll come across or what I'll find, whether I'll be delighted or disappointed, hurt or happy. Does that make sense?”
    “I think so.” Kyle didn't sound sure at all. But it was a start.
    I reached out to link arms with him again. “Have you still got the tie around your eyes?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then it's time for our next step.”
    I led the way along the fence towards the tennis courts.
    “I have no idea where we are,” Kyle said, perplexed.
    “That's OK. I do.”
    We walked on for another few minutes before I stopped.
    “Where are we now?” asked Kyle.
    “What can you hear?” I asked.
    He was still for a moment. “Birds and a faint whirring sound.”
    “That whirring is the traffic on the other side of the school building,” I replied.
    Kyle turned his head slightly. “I can hear some cheering now from the sports field, but it's very faint.”
    “Anything else?”
    “I don't think so.”
    “OK. Kneel down.”
    “Why?”
    “Trust me!”
    “I wish you'd stop saying that!” Kyle's tone was dry, but he still knelt down.
    I smelled what I was looking for. The scent was overwhelming. I took Kyle's hand and put it out to touch the thing I could smell.
    “Just use your index finger and