Boys, Bears And A Serious Pair Of Hiking Boots Part 3

"Oh. Right." I pause. "Isn't there safety gear you can use - padding and stuff?"

Reeve grins, clearly amused by the idea. "Not if you want to do it right. The gear restricts your moves," he explains. "It's better just to take the knocks."

"Oh," I repeat faintly. Because blood and gore is better.

"So, what do you do for fun?" Reeve gives me a vaguely encouraging smile. He strikes some matches in quick succession and touches them to the kindling until the fire slowly crackles to life.

"Normal stuff, I guess." Then I remember that normal in this town means hurling themselves up a cliff face and playing with knives. "You know, music, movies . . ."

"What bands are you into?" Ethan asks, rummaging in a bag. He pulls out a can of soda and then offers it to me. I lean across and take it, pleased.

"All kinds, mainly indie stuff, some rock. I like the new Jared Jameson alb.u.m," I offer, hoping they're not all secret death-metal fans.

Luckily, Ethan nods in recognition, "Yeah, I've been meaning to check that out."

Emboldened, I continue. "And I do a lot of environmental stuff too. I'm part of this group in school - we campaign for different eco causes, organize rallies and protests and things."

Reeve looks over. "You mean like conservation?"

"Sure, and fund-raising, letter-writing: anything to raise awareness." I smile, rueful. "You guys probably take it for granted, living right out here in the middle of nature, but a lot of people don't even know about the threat of global warming, or the damage that's being done to the environment because of logging, and . . ." I stop, remembering my non-babble policy. It's easy for me to get carried away with this stuff, but I've got the whole summer; I don't need to hit them with my full Green Teen platform just yet.

"Global warming, huh?" Reeves studies me. I can't quite tell his expression in the dim light, but something in his voice sounds tense. "Why not fight AIDS or third-world poverty or something that really hurts people?"

I pause, thrown. "Global warming does hurt us. Flooding, droughts . . . It's already started, and it's going to get worse if we don't act."

"And you're going to stop it?" I can hear the smirk in his voice.

I fold my arms. "I'm going to try."

"With what, a school recycling campaign?" he shoots back.

"Dude," Ethan interrupts, "the wood's too wet. We need more." He gives Reeve a warning look.

"Fine," Reeve answers in a clipped voice. He begins to stack a fresh batch around the flames, poking angrily at the fire with a long gnarled branch. I look around, confused. What did I say that was so bad?

"So, you think you can take the five-nine up by Macaw Ridge?" Ethan turns to his brother, obviously changing the subject. They launch into coversation about rock grades and climbing routes, while Reeve slouches on the other side of the fire, studiously ignoring me. Fiona is still buried in her book, so I have nothing left to do but sit - watching the bright flames and wondering what I did wrong.

Another hour creeps past, painfully slowly. I get bitten by about twenty mosquitoes, sc.r.a.pe my elbow on the log, and learn more than a Jersey girl ever needs to know about fly-fis.h.i.+ng equipment, but that weird tension from before hasn't gone anywhere. In fact, it feels worse. All my attempts to ask questions or make a friendly comment are cut off by the boys' in-jokes and banter, until I just sit back, defeated.

An unexpected wave of loneliness rolls through me. Casual and low-key is one thing, but now the boys aren't even trying to be friendly - aside from Ethan, who manages to throw a halfhearted smile in my direction every now and then. My dreams of a fun-filled summer are rapidly deflating: now I think I'll be lucky to even have a single conversation.

When the lake is just an inky shadow in the dark, I finally crack. "Fiona, do you want to get going?"

"What time is it?" She's deigned to join us by the fire, but she's still reading - with the help of a pocket flashlight.

I check the glowing display on my cell phone. "Ten thirty."

"No," she says stubbornly. "I'm waiting until eleven."

"Just to spite Susie?" I can't believe how petty she's being. "Just sit out on the porch. She'll never know the difference."

"Nope." Fiona turns another page and nibbles at an Oreo. Yes, she brought snacks. No, she hasn't offered me any.

I sit, resigning myself to another half hour feeling out of place, until Ethan speaks up.

"I could walk you back," he offers, pulling on a green sweats.h.i.+rt. "I'm pretty much ready to go."

"Would you?" I look at him with relief. Jet lag is. .h.i.tting hard, and even the foldout bed in Fiona's room seems like luxury to me.

"Sure." He unfolds himself and gets up, brus.h.i.+ng dirt from his jeans. "Grady?"

"I'll stick around a while more." After some dedicated carving, Grady's chunk of wood now resembles a smooth pebble. He looks up at us, hair gleaming a dark gold in the firelight. "Tell Mom I'll be back soon."

"Hang on." Reeve is just a silhouette across the fire as he slings a battered nylon bag across his shoulders and pulls on his sneakers. "I need to borrow your belay device for tomorrow."

"Oh, right." Ethan hangs back to wait for him.

I pause on the edge of the clearing, uneasy. Maybe this isn't the best idea. They seem harmless enough, but disappearing into the forest with two strange boys . . . ? Surely that would feature on the Risky Behaviors That Will Get a Teenage Girl Killed (or Worse) list.

I don't have time to change my mind, because Reeve strides past me, asking, "You ready?" in an impatient voice - as if I was the one holding us up - and then they charge into the trees, leaving me to stumble on behind in the dark.

"Guys?" I call after the bobbing light. "Ethan, can you wait a - oww!" My ankle gives way on the edge of a sharp slope, and I twist over on it, falling heavily to the muddy ground.

The pain isn't terrible, but part of me feels like giving up and just sitting there. I can see the rest of my trip stretching out in front of me, lonely and full of bugs and boys who'll barely even speak to me, let alone - Wait. Where are they?

I pull myself to my feet. "Ethan?" My voice catches in my throat. I can't see their flashlight anymore or hear anything but the haunting rustle of the trees and my own beating heart. "Reeve? Guys, where are you?"

It's completely dark now, heavy like a blanket around me. I can't make out anything but the ominous black shapes all around. My stomach lurches with fear, but I try not to panic. Cautiously, I edge forward. If I just keep walking in a straight line, won't that get me back to the road eventually? Then maybe I can call Susie to come pick me up, and - Something grabs me from behind.

I scream.

"Arrrghhh!" I lurch away from my unknown a.s.sailant. In an instant, I think of all the terrible things that could be lurking in the dark. "HELP ME!" I scream, propelling myself forward into the trees. I make it half a dozen steps, and then I hear laughter.

Laughter!

A flashlight switches on and I turn to see the half-lit shadows of Ethan and Reeve behind me, falling over themselves with glee.

"Man, where'd you learn to scream like that?" Reeve's whole body is shaking. He grins, a smile that could slay teenage girls the world over, but right now, I'm not even remotely impressed. "My ears are still ringing!"

"Aren't you city girls supposed to be tough?" Ethan gasps for air, clinging to a tree branch to keep himself upright.

I gape at them in disbelief. In an instant, my fear turns to anger.

"What the h.e.l.l are you DOING?" I yell, surprised at my own force. I shove Reeve, hard. He stumbles backward. "Do you think that was funny? DO YOU?"

"Whoa, calm down." Ethan pulls me back. "It was only a joke."

"A joke?" I cry, shaking. "What kind of morons ARE you? Or is that what pa.s.ses for funny out here?"

Reeve is still grinning. "Aw, get over it. We didn't mean any harm."

"No harm?" I force myself to take a deep breath and calm down. It's all OK, I tell myself. Everything's OK. When my heartbeat finally slows, I look at them, amazed. "Do you have any idea how scared I was? That's not funny, guys. It's not!"

Ethan begins to look contrite. "Hey, I'm sorry - we didn't mean it."

Reeve agrees. "It's not like we would have left you here for real."

"How should I know?" I shoot back. "I just met you. You could be . . . anything!" I s.h.i.+ver, realizing again how vulnerable I am out here.

"Yeah, well, we're not like that." Reeve's tone gets sharper, as if I'm the one who's offended him.

I hug myself tightly, trying not to snap. "Look, can we just get out of here, please?"

Reeve makes an exaggerated gesture, like he's bowing to me. "As you wish."

Perfect. I'm recovering from a minor heart attack and the guy wants to stand around quoting The Princess Bride. I glare at him and then follow Ethan - and the warm glow of their flashlight - back out of the forest. I stumble a couple of times, on tree roots and stray rocks, but even though Reeve reaches out to help me, I s.n.a.t.c.h away. I don't need any of his kind of help.

"I can take it from here," I say in a clipped voice, the minute we're through the trees.

Ethan looks unsure, hair falling in his eyes. "I don't know. . . . We're not supposed to let you girls go off alone."

Now he's worried about my personal safety? "See that light over there?" I point. "That's Susie's. I'll be fine - if you can both hold off on attacking me again."

"It was a joke!" Reeve says again, getting exasperated. "You don't have to get so wound up about it."

"Wound up?" I can't believe this guy. "You're the one playing dangerous pranks!"

"Whatever." He turns to walk toward his truck, yelling behind him, "Ethan - you coming?"

"Uh, sure." Ethan looks at me almost apologetically. "See you around, Jenna. Sorry," he adds quietly before jogging after Reeve. They climb into a mud-splattered white pickup truck - the same mud-splattered pickup truck that left me wet and cold on the side of the road earlier this evening. Reeve starts the engine and makes a swift U-turn, pulling past me with a rattle of tires in the dirt and a blast of some macho rock song.

And I limp miserably back to the house.

"COLDCOLDCOLD!"

Stumbling backward as a jet of ice-cold water hits my skin, I scramble for the faucet. It's too late. By the time I manage to shut the water off, I'm so frozen that even my gooseb.u.mps have gooseb.u.mps.

I hear someone running up the stairs, and a few moments later, there's a knock. "Sorry!" Susie apologizes through the bathroom door. "I forgot to tell you about the water - it runs cold for the first five minutes!"

"No problem!" I manage to answer, even though my teeth are literally chattering. "I'm OK! It's . . . refres.h.i.+ng!"

Susie laughs. "We should get it fixed up in another couple of weeks. In the meantime, how about I make you some breakfast?"

"Uhhmmmm." I manage a faintly upbeat response.

"Blueberry pancakes coming right up!"

She retreats, leaving me to wrap myself in three different towels and collapse, s.h.i.+vering, while I wait for my body temperature to return to normal. And then I wait some more. In fact, I linger as long as possible in the small, blue-tiled bathroom, until I realize that for all her Bohemian leanings, Susie probably prefers clothing at the breakfast table, and that means getting back to my suitcase. Which is in Fiona's bedroom.

Bracing myself, I cross the hallway, remembering to tap lightly on the door in case she's changing or something. I've never shared before, but I'm guessing that a good roomie always knocks. There's silence, so I creep in, blinking to adjust to the dark shrouding the room. Even though it's after nine a.m., thick, purple drapes are still blocking out all sunlight. Mixed with the navy paint on every wall and an array of bleak emo posters, the effect is pretty depressing.

"Umm, Fiona?" After reaching around blindly in the dark for five minutes, I finally have to speak up. "Would you mind if I opened the drapes a little? I need to get dressed and I can't really -"

A mumble emerges from her motionless form. I take that as a yes.

"Thanks!" I whisper. With light, soon comes the locating of clean underwear, and in no time at all, I'm dressed and armed with sandals and my notebook. "Susie's making pancakes," I offer. Fiona pulls her comforter up over her head. "OK, well, see you later!"

I let myself out quietly. It's my first morning in Stillwater, the sun is s.h.i.+ning, and the sweet b.u.t.tery smell of deliciousness is wafting from the kitchen, but still, I feel a pang in my chest - and my ankle. I miss home. I miss Olivia. I didn't think being away would be a breeze, but I didn't expect homesickness to set in so soon.

I wonder what my parents are doing, in their separate corners of the world. Dad's already texted me, a brief line about jet lag and meatb.a.l.l.s, but I can't help wondering if - No.

Carefully putting all thoughts of the future out of my head, I maneuver my way down the stairs and past that gaping pit in the hallway. The sun is streaming in fierce strips through the window frames, and I can hear Susie singing along with a pop song on the radio down the hall. Something about the calm domesticity of the scene helps ease the tight sadness I have bubbling in my chest.

I'm not powerless, I remind myself, clinging to my number-one mantra. I got here, didn't I? To this sprawling wilderness, to what I wanted my summer to be. All I have to do now is learn the intricacies of Susie's plumbing system, read a few of Fiona's dystopian novels, and find some way of getting along with the Stillwater boys.

And, as Princ.i.p.al Turner would agree, I'm nothing if not persistent.

After a stack of pancakes drenched in genuine Canadian maple syrup (one of the bonuses of being north of the border, although the other - bacon - I sadly had to refuse), I put together a tote bag of beach supplies and prepare to head out to the lake for a swim in that glorious sparkling water. But for some reason, my feet won't take me farther than the front yard.

"Everything OK, Jenna?" Adam finds me sitting on the porch. He's unloading planks of wood from the back of the truck but pauses to check on me, scratching absently at his beard.

I pretend to fuss with my ankle - still kind of swollen after my fall. "Oh, yeah. I'm good." I nod vigorously, shooting another look across the dirt road at the dense trees. In daylight, they look innocent enough, but I feel a chill across the back of my neck when I remember last night and how scared I was in the dark.

Adam follows my gaze. "It can take a while to get used to it out here. Susie couldn't sleep properly for weeks when she first arrived - all the noise we get from the forest at night."

"I'm fine," I repeat, embarra.s.sed. "But . . . I think I'll just hang out here today. Settle in," I add quickly.

"Good plan." He nods gently. "Maybe you can drag Fiona out of her room sometime before noon."

I doubt it, but nod. "Sure, maybe. Well . . . thanks."

"Uh, anytime." He blinks and then seems to collect himself. "I better . . ." He grips the plank of wood again. I nod, and he hoists another armload onto his shoulder and disappears into the house.

I let out a breath. The awkwardness between us will fade, I'm sure, but right now, it's still weird to be around him; he's like some distant relative I'm supposed to be comfortable with, despite the fact that he's a complete stranger.

A complete stranger who thinks I'm a scared kid, afraid of the forest.

I take one last look across the street at the trees, green and dappled with sunlight.

Maybe tomorrow.

I spend the morning in the backyard instead, stretched out in the hot sun and working on some letters. I have a big blue binder of the names of all my important congressmen and state government officials, and whenever I get some free time, I work my way through the list with letters about Green Teen issues and the environment. I used to shoot e-mails over, copying everyone to the message, but then I realized they just filter them into a "crazy activist" file and forget about them. A handwritten note, on the other hand, seems to have way more impact.

"Jenna!" Susie calls when I'm contemplating another layer of sunscreen.

"Out here!" I yell back.

"Oh, hey." She emerges from the house, covered in sawdust. "Your mom called, but she was in a rush, so I said you'd call her later."