“Miller,” he says, writing the name down.“Dewar.Lawson.Snyder.”
He pauses, glancing past me, like he’s trying to see if there’s anyone else.
“I’ll volunteer,” I say.I have the urge to wave my hand in the air like a school kid, but I resist.
He gives me a long, hard look.He glances around again.No other takers.
Come the fuck on,I think.You’ll get rid of me for a couple days.What more could you want?
Finally, he gives a short sigh.
“Casden,” he says, and writes my name down.
Within thirty minutesI’m standing next to a truck behind the visitor center, next to the other four guys.It’s not even eight in the morning yet, but we’ve been given maps, been briefed, and now we’re just waiting for the forest rangers to come out and meet us.
It feels strangely like I’m in middle school, waiting to be chosen for dodgeball.On the way over, it occurred to me that she might not even be one of the rangers hiking up to a lookout point.I might be makingsureI don’t see her again before my unit leaves town, which I didn’t even think about in my eagerness.
All I can do is cross my fingers and pray.
At last, I see five figures walking toward us, and my heart squeezes as I scan over them.
She’s not — wait, yes she is.She’s slightly behind someone else, her frame pack is changing the way she walks, and she’s wearing a huge hat, but it’s her.
I feel like I might melt with relief.
Clementine’s not more than halfway to where we’re standing when she sees me, her mouth flattening just a little.She doesn’t look surprised, though.
Mike, the guy in charge of this whole Forest division, claps his hands together and rubs them.
“Thanks to everyone for being available on such short notice,” he says.“I’m sorry for the haste and lack of preparation, but we’re stretched pretty thin right now, and as you know, lightning strikes represent a serious danger to several mountain communities, particularly with the dryness of the season.”
He talks like a brochure or something, I think.
“You’ve all been briefed, so, any questions?”he asks.
We all look around, then shrug.It seems pretty simple: hike a long-ass way, sleep in a glass cabin on top of a mountain, see if there’s a fire, come back.
Mike shrugs.
“Well, then, everyone pick your hiking buddy and let’s get this show on the road.”
Everyone else starts mingling.Some introductions are made, and Silas and Daniel both glance at me, then at Clementine, but they heard pretty much everything last night and have obviously decided to steer clear.
I look at her.
She looks at me.Then she looks away.Then she looks back.Finally, she steps forward.
“Hiking buddies?”she asks quietly.
We tossour packs into the back of a Forest Service pickup and drive to the access point of a fire road, forty-five minutes away.It’s blazingly sunny today, and everything has that shiny, painful brightness that happens after a hard rain sometimes, like the world’s been scrubbed a little too vigorously.
Neither of us says much.She drives, country western on the radio, and I follow along on the detailed topo maps we have, though it’s more so I know where we are than to give her directions.Clementine seems to know where she’s going, and she doesn’t ask for my input.
I don’t mind the quiet.I don’t think she’s mad at me, or at least, she doesn’t seem like it.Clementine is just quiet sometimes, usually when she’s trying to work something out with herself.
When we were together, I couldn’tstandthat about her.She’d go quiet like this, and I’d needle her, trying to get her to talk to me, and then we’d fight.
But now, in the car, I don’t say anything.I just enjoy the scenery.We’ve got at least a day and a half together.She can have some time to figure out what she wants to say.
