Also: a hat.
And while I’m at it, shoes that were actually designed for this kind of terrain.
Because already, I could feel tiny rocks wedging themselves under the leather straps of my sandals. While most of the group headed for the trail, I crouched to dig one out. Then did the same with the other one.
By the time I stood, everyone had moved on—except for Noah and Mrs. Grady, who was working her way through a very thorough sunscreen routine.
Which wasn’t a bad idea. One I hadn’t thought of.
“You okay there?” he called.
“Yeah. Rock in my shoe.” I gave him a halfhearted wave.
We were friends now, sure. But I didn’t expect him to spend every moment with me.
And that was fine.
He was here with his mom. I was here...
Alone.
Also fine. Totally, completely, one-hundred-percent fine.
Even Babs—who’d basically pinky-sworn we’d stick together on day one—had left me in the dust.
Literally.
So what was I waiting for?
I squinted up at the sky, briefly tempted to wait it out on the bus. But no. There was no way I was missing this. I’d promised Ashley pictures, and honestly? This place was incredible—in a landscape-of-a-different-planet sort of way.
I slipped on my sunglasses and took in the scene.
Most of our group was already halfway to the arch, Roger beside Helen, aiming his vintage camera at anything that moved, and Josie looking like she was attempting another Facebook Live.
A few yards behind them, Patty, Denise, Ed, Eddie, and Babs ambled along in a looser, more leisurely cluster—until a sudden gust of wind lifted Babs’s hat clean off her head.
Morty’s hat.
It floated up, up, up, somersaulting, before it landed, hovered, skittering away from the trail. Just rolling like a tumbleweed.
Away from Babs.
The group kind of twirled around, a few even lurched towards it, but their efforts, though well-meaning, were feeble.
Poor Babs stretched out her hand, as if willing it to come back to her, but it was already too late.
Without thinking, I dug in my heels and took off after it.
Off the trail, the ground shifted from firm to unpredictable. Loose rocks, tufts of dry weeds, and brittle branches clawed at my sandals. A lizard darted out ahead of me.
If there were snakes—or anything else hiding in the brush—they’d have to move. I wasn’t stopping.
I didn’t blink. I didn’t look away. I kept my eyes on that hat.
Was I faster than the other would have been? Sure.
Was I going to catch it?
