Boys, Bears And A Serious Pair Of Hiking Boots Part 21

"You don't look so thrilled. I thought you guys were, like, BFFs."

I pause. "So did I. Before . . ."

Before what, I'm not sure, but something about this feels wrong, as if two separate parts of my life have just been flung together. With a sigh, I pick up my bag of bubble-bliss bath foam and follow them all inside.

Olivia's parents are as worried as you'd expect after getting a text from their seventeen-year-old daughter reading, Going 2 canada! Talk l8er! After an hour of parental bonding, Susie seems to have smoothed things over - rea.s.suring them that Olivia isn't hitchhiking with dangerous strangers anymore and will be put on a flight back to New Jersey on Sat.u.r.day, when they get back from their cruise. With the first guests arriving soon, all those s.h.i.+ny new bedrooms are off-limits: I set up the inflatable mattress in my room for her and set about bringing her motley collection of mud-stained bags inside.

"Don't even worry!" Olivia tells me as I cross back through the kitchen to find her some sheets. "I can camp outside if I need to. In fact, I'd be more comfortable out there - we've been sleeping out under the stars all summer."

"Uh-huh," I murmur, deciding to leave her duffel out in the laundry room. There's a weird smell coming from the bag . . .

I wander back into the room. Olivia's holding court from over a plate of that tofu (since apparently she's also sworn off wheat and dairy since I saw her last), gesturing wildly as she describes life out in the great wilderness. Of upstate New York.

"So tell me more about this camp of yours." Fiona swings her legs against a cabinet, regarding her with amus.e.m.e.nt. I pause, curious myself.

"It's a collective," Olivia corrects her, taking a gulp of water. "Although, all that stuff they promised about equality and input was total c.r.a.p, because the minute Cash spoke up and suggested some changes, they went totally authoritarian on us. Fascists."

"Where is Cash, anyway?" I ask.

"Oh, he's visiting friends. Lying low after the Chicago thing. Anyway, this one time, we were starting to make dinner, and he noticed that the lentils weren't certified organic, but they didn't even -" She stops, looking past me out the back window. "What's going on with that tree?"

Susie looks over. "Oh, the old spruce? We're taking it down next week."

Olivia looks heartbroken. "Is it sick?"

"Hmm? Oh, no." Susie scoops a handful of chips from the bag Fiona is currently tearing through. "But it blocks out the light from at least three of the guest bedrooms, so we figured it would be best out of the way."

Olivia's mouth drops open, and she gets that indignant look that I know by now means trouble.

"How about I show you around town before it gets dark," I interrupt, before she can launch into a lecture. "We can catch up, like you wanted."

"Sure!" Olivia leaps up, leaving her half-finished plate on the table. "Let's go!"

We cycle toward town, winding along the road on a pair of muddy mountain bikes. The sky is fading to a pale yellow dusk, it's a perfect summer evening, and I have my best friend back beside me. So why do I feel so restless, like something is p.r.i.c.kling beneath the surface of my skin?

"I see Little Miss Suns.h.i.+ne is still being a total b.i.t.c.h." Olivia pedals slowly, getting used to the old bike. "I don't know how you put up with her."

"Fiona's been great," I say, defensive. "She's really come around."

"Huh. If you say so."

We pa.s.s another few houses, buried in the dense tangle of weeds by the road. I try to think of something to say. I was never at a loss for words around her before, but it's been so long since we were together, I feel weirdly shy.

"What are you doing out here, really?" I ask at last, glancing over. She's changed into a threadbare gray tank and baggy khaki shorts, with a sc.r.a.p of bandana twisted around her head. "We were going to be back home in a week; you didn't have to come all this way."

"But I did." She stops pedaling, putting one foot on the dusty ground to steady herself. I circle around to face her. "I know I've been a c.r.a.ppy friend lately, I just got so busy with everything. . . ." She trails off, her voice regretful. "Anyway, I wanted to make it up to you in person, so we could spend the last part of our vacation together."

"You mean the four days till you get s.h.i.+pped back home?"

Olivia makes a rueful face. "Yeah, maybe I didn't think this one through. But that's what you do, remember? I'm impulsive; you're the planner. We make the perfect team!"

She waits there, hopeful. I soften.

"You really hitchhiked to Seattle?" I ask.

She grins, a familiar smile I must have seen a thousand times. "Well, kinda. A group from the Chicago protest was driving out, so I caught a ride with them. There were like, eight of us squeezed in a VW camper van. I swear, I lost all feeling in my legs!"

I giggle, despite myself. "How did you even end up there?"

"It was totally serendipitous!" She starts pedaling again. "After the collective leaders made such a big deal about Cash and his uprising -"

"His what?"

"They overreacted," she says quickly. "It was supposed to be a democracy! So anyway, one of the other counselors had friends who were gathering in Chicago to protest the meeting, so we hitched a ride with him. It was awesome. We chained ourselves to the gates and sang protest songs. Like, hundreds of people came, and in the end, the police had to break it up with tear gas and riot gear."

I gape at her, nearly swerving into a ditch. "No way! Weren't you scared?"

Olivia pauses. "Well, actually we weren't there when they sent the police in. Cash said it was better that we didn't get arrested, you know - let the foot soldiers take the fall so we could still be around to lead the second wave. But I watched from down the street and it looked so cool!"

"Did anyone get hurt? Those riots always look crazy on TV." I can't believe this.

"That's only because they orchestrate the whole thing!" Olivia exclaims. "I mean, they've got to paint us all as dangerous criminals so n.o.body listens to the message, the truth. They plant people in the crowd to stir up trouble and then blame us for everything!"

"Umm, who are 'they'?"

"The establishment," Olivia explains in a "Well, duh!" voice. "Corporations, the police, government. They're all in on it together - protecting their stock prices and consumerist society. Because if for one moment, people actually woke up and started paying attention to what's really happening in the world . . ."

I keep pedaling, my unease growing. This isn't Green Teen talk anymore; this is different. Fiercer. I've heard s.n.a.t.c.hes of it before, from kids on the fringe of the protests: the ones who show up just as an excuse to scream at teachers and the cops. But we always steered clear of those kinds of troublemakers - they were just in it to cause a scene. Right?

". . . and it doesn't matter who's president, because they're all tied to special interests and -"

"Look!" I gladly interrupt. "Here were are, Main Street, Stillwater, in all its glory. So where do you want to start?" I ask brightly, hoping to stem the tide of anti-capitalist ranting. "We've got the thrilling map-center-slash-bookstore here." Waving my hands like a spokesmodel, I hop off my bike and lead her down the sidewalk. "Home to an extensive array of trashy romance novels. And there's a racc.o.o.n that likes to nest in the back there, too." I turn. "Or there's the gas station, with two whole different kinds of gas and a slus.h.i.+e machine. I can recommend the raspberry."

Olivia looks around slowly. She seems almost disappointed. "I didn't think it would be so built up."

I snort. "Are you kidding?"

She shrugs, pus.h.i.+ng the bike along. "I just mean there's all this concrete. I guess it's inevitable; the capitalist industrial machine crushes everything in its path."

"Yes," I say slowly. We're in the middle of a vast, tree-covered valley, and all she can see are the few buildings that are here?

"I don't know. I guess when you talked about how remote it was, I just pictured . . . log cabins, I guess. And maybe a general store for food deliveries."

I laugh. "It's not the 1900s!"

"I know!" She blushes and shoves me. "Maybe I've been reading too much Walden."

"Oh, it was a rude awakening for me, too." I smile as we start walking again. "I was picturing all this serene beauty. I mean, it's here, it's lovely too, but things are . . . kind of a little more dirty than that. People have to make a living; it's not just about sitting around, gazing at the forest." She looks blank, but I keep moving, pausing to cross the street. "I think Ethan is working at the store today."

"The gay one?"

I panic.

"Shhh!" I look around. "Livvy, you can't say that. n.o.body's supposed to know! Or about me and Reeve either!"

"Relax." She laughs.

"I mean it!" I hiss, nervous. "I shouldn't have even told you, but I never thought . . ." I shoot another look over at the store. "Swear you won't tell a soul? Not even Ethan?"

Olivia rolls her eyes. "Calm down! I pinky-swear, whatever. Now let's go - I want to meet all these cute boys you've been talking about."

She takes off across the street without looking, and I have no choice but to hurry after her, hoping for the best.

"And you should really install solar panels, because you might as well just hold a blowtorch to the glaciers with it set up like this."

The next morning, I find Olivia in full eco-flow. She's cornered Susie in her office, loudly decrying every element of the B and B as "wasteful" and "irresponsible." She's even waving some pamphlets around while Susie looks for an escape.

"Hey, there you are, Livvy!" I interrupt quickly. "Do you want to go hang out by the lake today?"

Susie leaps up. "Yes! Go! Both of you," she adds quickly. "In fact, take Fiona, too. The first guests are due this afternoon. Just make sure you're back in time to help set up for the party."

"What do you say?" I ask Olivia. "Sun, cool water, some tanning . . . ?"

"OK," she agrees. Susie takes the chance to slip around her and bolt from the room, but not too fast to give me a decidedly exasperated stare.

I know how she feels.

"Look, I didn't want to say anything, but . . . you might want to tone down all the environmentalism stuff," I tell Olivia carefully as we pack up our towels and some snacks. She spent half of last night's Rock Band wars lecturing Grady and Ethan about their lack of a recycling bin for our soda cans and arguing with Reeve about the fuel efficiency of his truck. I felt embarra.s.sed even listening. Did I really sound so self-righteous and condescending when I first arrived? I hope not, but unlike Olivia, at least I knew when to let it drop.

"Why?" She shrugs, looking defensive. "She needs to hear it. I mean, I don't know how you could stand to watch all this awful construction work all summer."

I sigh, packing up the cooler with drinks and chips. "The B and B is a good thing. It'll bring trade through town, remember?"

"But at what cost?" Olivia looks at me disapprovingly. "I know she's your G.o.dmother, but you really should be speaking up about this."

"Not everything's a life-or-death issue, Livvy. Sometimes you've got to compromise."

She glares at me. "Tell that to the birds nesting in the spruce tree."

Olivia keeps up her monologue all the way to the lake, ignoring the pretty scatter of sunlight through the trees to rant about the evils of carbon-based fuel systems and how we're all going to die at the hands of greedy corporations. I stroll along beside her, silent and confused. Now that we've spent some time together again, I don't understand this sudden switch in her, all this new anger at the world. Sure, we've always been against polluting companies, and politicians, and all those usual suspects, but that just made us want to work harder in a positive way - to inspire and educate more people so we could all do something about the problem. But now? Every word that comes out of her lips is so bleak, so extreme, it's like she can only see the bad things. The worst part is, I don't even think she's listening to me anymore. Or anyone. She just seems on some mission to recite her list of the world's wrongs, regardless of timing or, I don't know, tact.

Luckily, Fiona isn't as conflicted as me.

"Will you just shut up?" she finally exclaims as we emerge from the trees and reach the sh.o.r.eline. Turning to me, she adds, "I've tried to make nice because she's your friend and all, but G.o.d! I can't take this!"

"Thanks," I tell her, genuinely touched that she's made the effort. The old Fiona would have shut Olivia down right away, but the new, improved version lasted all of five minutes.

Olivia turns to me with a betrayed look. "Didn't you hear what she -?"

"See, the lake!" I announce brightly, putting both hands on her shoulders and swiveling her around to face the beautiful scene. The wind is up, kicking up peaks and foam on the water, while the fluffy clouds sprint across a blue sky. Olivia looks around, and finally, the dissatisfied expression makes way for a smile.

"This is awesome." There, nature will heal all. Or, not quite, because she adds, "At the collective, we meditated by the water every day. You should try that, you know. It totally bonds you to the earth, gets rid of all the capitalist false impulses."

"Uh-huh," I murmur, stripping off my shorts and T-s.h.i.+rt. My navy bikini is fading from all the use, a thread unraveling in one of the straps. "Why don't you relax and, umm, meditate here? I'm going for a swim."

"Me too," Fiona says, and my mouth drops open with shock. I've never seen her do more than dip a reluctant toe in the water all summer. She pulls off her cargo pants and tank top - showing a surprisingly revealing black bikini underneath - and takes off toward the water. I guess Olivia is a surprising motivator.

I pause by our patch of towels and totes, rummaging in my bag. "Have you seen my sunscreen?"

"I tossed it out." Instead of relaxing, Olivia is pulling her feet into a complicated cross-legged position.

"What? Why?"

She shrugs, tying her mat of dreadlocks back with a stretch of colored ribbon. "Those things will kill you. Have you seen the toxins they put in? Cash says -"

"It's OK." I cut her off before I'm treated to another joyful lesson from the Book of Cash. "Just . . . don't go through my stuff, OK?"

She looks at me, hurt. "I was only trying to help. Do you want to pump chemicals into your body?"

"No, but I kind of don't want to get skin cancer, either." I sigh. "Just forget it."

A couple of hours later, things seem to have reached a calm. The guys show up to mess around with inner tubes, Fiona loans me her sunscreen, and Olivia takes a much-appreciated break from her lecture series to bury herself in a dog-eared copy of No Logo. With a cool breeze cutting through the midday heat, and my friends lounged around me, I can almost relax.

Almost.

"Hey, Jenna, can you pa.s.s those chips?" Reeve rolls over and reaches his hand out, impatient. He's s.h.i.+rtless on our patchwork array of towels and blankets, hair dripping wet from his swim, and even though I haven't been obsessing over him the way I used to, I'm immediately distracted.

"Hmmm?"

"h.e.l.lo? The chips?" He snaps his fingers at me. I blink at his tone. A few days ago, we were lazing, intertwined by that water-lily lake while he counted every freckle on my back. Now he can't even be polite in public?

"What's the magic word?" I challenge him.

"Uh, now?"

I throw them at him, hard. Discreet is one thing; rude is quite another.

"Jeez, what's gotten into you?"

Olivia looks up from her book. "Aww, trouble in paradise?" she asks with an innocent look.

I glance around, panicked, but n.o.body else seems to have noticed her comment. Except Reeve. When I check, his face is tense.

"Don't stress - it's just PMS!" Grady says, lying out with his baseball cap covering his eyes. "It's always freaking PMS with these chicks - argh!" He cries out as Fiona upends her soda over his bare chest. He scrambles to his feet, soaked with the sticky liquid. "What the h.e.l.l?"

"Whoops," she answers, deadpan. "Must be that darn time of the month."

While they bicker, I try to catch Olivia's eye. How could she almost give me away like that? But she stares, fixed, at her book, as if she doesn't realize what a close call that just was. And maybe she doesn't.