It’s midnight. The house has gone perfectly quiet.
Tomorrow being Monday, Mom and Dad went to bed earlier than the last two days. As did I. But I can’t find sleep.
For the past hour or so, I’ve been sitting in my bed, staring at the opposite wall, and replaying in my mind my deferred breakup with Philippe. If only I could discuss it with Gaby! But I can’t without casting a shadow over Philippe. I’ll just tell her that my marriage plans are on indefinite hold.
God, I’m so glad I came clean!It was my best idea ever, especially considering what he said about not being physically attracted to me, and about his “unconventional” sexuality. He was planning to wait until we’re married to tell me the truth.
Is it me or is that underhanded?I believe it is. The mere thought of that scenario gives me goosebumps.
Aside from pondering and wall gazing, I’ve been keeping my ears open. I hope to hear Dad snoring from the other end of the corridor. That wouldn’t mean Mom is asleep, too, but it would be a good start. I could then tiptoe out of my room and eavesdrop at their door until I detect Mom’s softer grunts. Then I could go check on Darrel. And we could…
Oh, cut it out, Stella!
He’s probably asleep. And there’s no guarantee he’ll be interested in more kissing and making out. Now that he knows I’m certifiably crazy and a criminal—even if I didn’t tell him what my crime was—he may not be interested in touching me at all. When he hugged me after my confession, it was different than before. No longer sexual. He must’ve been pitying me, and so his hug was to comfort me. Perhaps he felt sorry for himself, too. I would, if I were him—imprisoned in a basement by a mad couple trying to extract some esoteric knowledge out of him while their even madder daughter helps him but won’t let him out.
My eyes wander to the trekking poles in the corner of the room. My first and only pair of adult-sized hiking aides. Dad got them for me when I turned fourteen.
Did I have them with me on that fateful hike?I’m not certain. My memory has erased that detail. But the rest remains as fresh as it did six years ago, forever etched into my brain…
I’m wearing my sturdy hiking shoes, but the ground still feels uncomfortably uneven beneath my feet as I trudge behind Mom and Dad. The scent of damp earth and vegetation fills my nostrils. A breeze whispers through the trees.
As always, I’ve fallen behind. My parents are up ahead, their voices echoing through the forest. They’re in awe of the mountain peaks and enchanted by their mysteriousness. They burn to explore them all, to find out what’s hidden in their depths, and to uncover their secrets.
It’s the reason they always choose the longest itineraries and the steepest trails.Grr!
The Bauges Mountains south of Annecy are gorgeous; there’s no question about it. But even so, I hate being here. I hate this hike, this day, my life.Why won’t they listen to me and take a shorter trail?Why can’t they understand that I’m eager to get home in time for my favorite singer’s live stream? That it’s so much more important to me than this hike and the gastronomic dinner afterward?
I pick up my pace to catch up with Mom and Dad. But because everything in me resists this hike, I gradually lose steam and fall behind again. And then, suddenly, I’m so far behind I can’t hear my parents anymore. The trail forks, and I have no idea which way to go.
I pull out my phone. No bars.
Oh well.Making an educated guess, I turn left and follow the narrow trail that winds up the side of the mountain. My boots crunch over the twigs and fallen leaves that litter the ground. The sunlight filters through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the path. Birds are trilling songs of freedom.
I am not free.
Whether Mom and Dad approve of it or not—and they’ve told me emphatically that they don’t—I am so moving out when I’m eighteen! Gaby and I have a plan. We’ll go to uni in Paris, and if we can’t have rooms in a student residence, we’ll waitress and rent a small place together. It’s a perfectly doable, solid plan.
The air grows cooler as I continue along the trail. It’s full of surprises. I stumble across a mountain stream and a cliff overlooking the valley below. I take in the sights and sounds, the smells, and the swoosh of the wind in my hair.
I manage to enjoy myself, until it becomes clear this is not the trail my parents took. I picked the wrong one, and now I’m even more lost than before. Clouds gather overhead, blotting out the sun. I open the compass on my phone, but it’s of little help in figuring out my parents’ current location. I have no clue if we were heading north, south, east, or west. It didn’t matter when we set out. I was just going to tread in their footsteps as I always do.
I stumble forward, my pulse suddenly racing, my thoughts a whirlwind of worry.They’ll backtrack and find me by nightfall,I try to reassure myself.
“Mom! Dad!” I call at the top of my lungs.
There’s no response. Just the rustling of leaves and the hum of insects. I take slow, deep breaths, trying to stay calm. I call repeatedly in vain.
I better retrace my steps!As I round a bend, I spot a figure on the trail ahead. A young man in full hiking gear stands gazing at a map.
When he sees me, he smiles and waves.
Instead of relief, an icy chill grips my spine. I look at him, his raised hand, his jet-black hair, his tattoos…A gang member?My heart pounds in my chest. A voice inside me screams danger. The trees around me close in, and the air thickens with tension.
Something inside me snaps, and suddenly I’m convinced he’s out to kill me. I’m an undercover cop investigating his gang, and he was sent on my trail to silence me for good.
Panic rises in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. Sweat trickles down my back. If I don’t act first and fast, I’ll be dead. And he’ll add another trophy tattoo to his arm.
I crouch, my hand reaching for a rock at my feet.
