The climbing wall at the leisure centre was twelve metres high, and from the bottom it looked like a mountain covered in brightly coloured sweets. Jaya had watched her older cousin, Ravi, scramble to the top of it a dozen times. Today was her first turn.
The instructor clipped the rope to her harness and checked the knot twice. "Remember," she said, "use your legs, not just your arms. And don't look down until you're ready."
The first few holds were easy. Jaya climbed quickly, buoyed by Ravi's cheers. But halfway up, the holds grew smaller and farther apart. Her arms began to burn. She looked down – and immediately wished she hadn't. The floor seemed impossibly far away, and her legs began to tremble.
"I want to come down," she called.
"You can," the instructor answered calmly. "Or you can rest. Lean back into the harness. The rope's got you."
Jaya didn't believe her. But slowly, she let her weight sink back. The rope held. Her breathing steadied. She looked at the wall in front of her, not at the floor, and noticed a small yellow hold to her right that she hadn't seen before.
Ten minutes later, she slapped the top of the wall. The leisure centre erupted in cheers – or at least Ravi did, which felt like the same thing.
