For a while, you seem to get in a rhythm, plodding forward without even thinking about your pain, trying to match yoursteps to Fran’s, but then the wind starts to pick up again and suddenly the boat on your shoulders is swiveling and attempting to take flight. You hold on as tight as you can. A haze has moved in with the wind, and even though Troy and Diana are about fifty feet behind you, it’s getting hard to see them. You hear them, though, when they crash into a tree.
“We’re okay!” yells Troy a few seconds later. “Sort of!”
You brace yourself against another gust and stumble sideways a step before regaining your footing. The haze is thicker than the usual morning fog, and you find yourself coughing for a spell before clearing your throat.
“Hey, Fran,” you say, muffling one last cough. “Listen. This is kind of weird, but I know I said Diana was in my tent the other night…”
Fran sighs.
“Seriously, you want to talk about thisnow?” she says.
She readjusts her grip on the canoe.
“I get it. Not the best timing. I just want you to know that nothing happened.”
Another gale comes howling through the trees, and this time, both you and Fran have to lean against a nearby rock to keep from flipping over. Aside from the wind, there’s a kind of deeper thrumming sound that you’re hearing, but you can’t quite put a finger on it.
“Can we please talk about this another time?” she says.
Her hair is in a ponytail, and when she stops for a second, it brushes across your forehead.
“Sure, of course,” you say, trying not to get hair up yournostrils. “I just don’t want you to think… I mean, I don’t want you to hate me.”
Forward you go for another half mile or so, fighting the wind and the wild grasses that are now up to your chest. From above, it must look like your capsized boat is adrift on a green sea. But from below, it just looks like darkness and plants. There are burrs coating your socks like carpet. You hope there isn’t any poison ivy, but you can’t distinguish the leaves enough to tell.
“I don’t hate you, Case,” Fran says eventually. “You are a lot of things, but hateable isn’t really one of them.”
The ground beneath you is starting to get a little spongy, and you hear the soft squelch of your boots digging into the mud. Now it’s Fran’s turn to cough. But when she speaks again, it’s clear as a bell.
“Diana is not into me.”
She looks behind her to see how close she and Troy are to both of you. But they’re still a ways back.
“And that’s okay as it turns out,” she says. “Even though there would be something kind of hot about a survival hookup, I think we’re destined to be pals.”
Fran does her best to shrug with a canoe on her back.
“It’s nice to have friends too,” she adds. “I haven’t had that many.”
Sweat rolls off your brow and down your nose. Your heart is beating in your ears. Fran steps over a jagged rock mired in a puddle. You both brace for more wind.
“I don’t want to betray her trust, Case, but watching you guys do this awkward dance is starting to bring me down.”
You didn’t think what was happening was so obvious, but you suppose there isn’t much privacy when you travel as a pack.
“All I’ll say,” says Fran, “is that she’s told me a lot about you, and I think it was you from the beginning.”
“What do you mean?” you say. “The beginning of the trip?”
She shakes her head.
“I mean thebeginning, beginning. Your brother, I think, was the safe choice. I know he’s gone, so I don’t want to say anything that’s hurtful. But from what she’s told me he was just, like, a charming sporto when she first met him. She knew what that was, but I don’t think she knew what to do with you.”
“Whatto dowith me?”
“Your connection. I think she just assumed it wasn’t romantic since she actually liked you. That was a new thing for her.”
Even through your fever and your sluggishness, Fran’s words send your whole head buzzing. Below you, the mud is getting thicker and your boots are getting wetter.
