Zoe swats his chest. “Babe. No. I’m just starving, that’s all.”
Why do people think a trek in the Sierras will be an easy walk in the park? We’re out here for days on end. It’s really not something you should casually decide to do unless you’re willing to put in the work.
Then again, it sounds like Zoe didn’t get to make that choice for herself.
“We’re about an hour’s walk from our campsite for the night,” I offer, “but if you need to rest—”
“I just need asnack,” Zoe interrupts, cutting a glare at Joshua. “I’m fine! Fine.”
One of the tennis team girls—Brittany, the one with the long blonde ponytail braid and a paint-splattered visor—pulls a protein bar from her pack and hands it over.
“Oh…” Zoe says as she waves it away. “Thanks, but I’m allergic to peanuts.”
“She’s not allergic,” Joshua adds flatly. “She just doesn’t like them. You’ve got to stop saying that, babe, it’s insensitive to people withrealallergies.”
“I’msensitive,” she protests. “They make me break out.”
“But they won’t, like, make youdie,” he says, losing patience. “I really think you should eat something—”
“I have roasted pumpkin seeds if you’d like some?” Sadie cuts in, pulling a snack-sized Ziploc bag from one of the zippered pockets of her backpack.
Zoe’s face melts in relief. “Yes, please! You’re a lifesaver.”
I glance around the group and catch the tail end of an eye roll from Brittany as she stuffs the rejected protein bar back in her pack.
“So we’re good, then?” I ask. “One more hour?”
No one speaks up—so I take that as an all-clear.
The sun dips lower over the horizon, and we make steady progress. It’s still late afternoon, but we’ll need to have a smooth crossing at Cloverleaf Creek if we don’t want to set up camp in the dark. We’re finally at the portion of the path that follows the curve of the creek, a quarter-mile stretch that eventually forks off in two directions: the left fork leads to another set of cliffs and small lakes, and the right—when water levels allow—leads straight to our campsite.
We should have no problem crossing the creek tonight. There’ve only been two times I’ve ever seen it impassable, and while it’s rained more than usual over the last few months, we aren’t freshly off any torrential downpours. At its highest, the water is shin deep.
“Aww,sick—we get to wade through that?” Trey says when we’re all gathered at the edge, his eyes sparking excitedly.
“We have towadethrough that?!” Zoe exclaims, horrified. “Where’s the bridge?”
“You can wade through if you want,” I say, more to Trey than to Zoe. “This water’s calm enough—but I wouldn’t recommend it unless you want your shoes to be soaking wet. For everyone who’d like to stay as dry as possible, there’s a natural rock bridge.”
A few of the rocks are jagged and angular, and one is a bit of a stretch to reach, but otherwise they’re flat and smooth—it’s a challenge of balance more than anything else, stepping carefully from one rock to the next.
“Pray for me,” Sadie says with a grimace, glancing down at her shoes. “Can I just go barefoot?”
“Even riskier that way, unfortunately,” I tell her.
Matteo demonstrates the most efficient way to cross, hopping from stone to stone like he’s onAmerican Ninja Warrior.
Not everyone is so light on their feet. Hunter struggles—his height comes in handy for making long strides over the water, but his balance isn’t the best. Silas manages just fine; Trey doesn’t even bother with the rocks and trudges straight through the water. He offers a hand to Zoe—Joshua made it across with no issues, leaving her behind to fend for herself—while Brittany, Emma, and Parker look like pros.
Sadie, at the back of the pack, is reluctant to step out.
I don’t blame her, after what happened this morning—but we’re the last two waiting to cross, and we’re losing daylight quickly.
“What do you need from me?” I ask.
It takes effort to sound patient. I’m not sure Idosound patient.
She bites her lip, eyeing the rocks warily. “Sorry, sorry. I can do this.”
