That’s what I’m afraid of, I want to say but don’t, because it’s not just about the trail mix—it’s about Sadie herself. Her strong opinions, her sense of humor, her stubborn bravery in the face of all her fears, her eyes and her smile and her long hair and long legs and—just—
Everything.
I got a taste of her this morning, and I’m afraid I’m already in over my head.
I pop the trail mix in my mouth—because she likes it, because she wants to share it withme—and it’s good. Really good. Somehow I knew it would be.
“Terrible,” I tell her. “Just completely awful.”
But she already knows me well enough to see right through me, and she grins. “You can keep the rest. I’ve got eight more of these in my pack.”
I shake my head, laughing. “Of course you do.”
18SADIE
It’s rainy and muddy and there are mosquitos everywhere—but somehow, none of it has managed to ruin my day.
In fact, it’s been a prettygoodday, all credit to Thorn.
I can’t stop thinking about this morning.
His lips. His hands.
His hands onme.
It’s been a long time since I’ve kissed anyone—and areallylong time since I’ve kissed anyone other than Caden. I’ve also never kissed anyone so quickly after meeting them. But then again, this week has been full of things I’ve never done.
I’m actually…havingfunout here.
That said, I’m a little nervous for what lies ahead. The terrain has taken a turn for the dramatic: it’s wide and open, rocks and mud everywhere, the path we’re on headed straight toward the cliff full of switchbacks Thorn mentioned this morning.
The closer we get, the worse it looks.
“You really undersold howbigit is, man,” Trey says, awed.
Zoe crosses her arms, coming to a stop. “You expectus,” she says, “to get to the top ofthat?”
Even from here, it’s obvious the switchbacks are going to be a challenge. They’re significantly steeper than any trail we’ve been on thus far, and there are five of them cutting across the face of the cliff.
“Try not to sell yourself short before you even start,” Thorn says. “Just put one foot in front of the other, over and over, until it’s done.” He glances from face to face, his gaze lingering on Zoe’s before ultimately landing on mine. “If I had reservations about any of you being able to do this, I’d say so. But I don’t.”
I swallow. Thorn doesn’t have my terrible shoes, or the pain I feel in atleastfive places, or my heavy pack that’s definitely about to make this ten times harder than it would be if I were a minimalist. MaybeIhave reservations about my own ability to do this—maybe I should say so before I crumple into a pile of backpack and bones halfway up the cliffside.
I’m too stubborn for that, though. I can put one blistered foot in front of the other, over and over, just like he said. It might be horrible—but the idea of making it to the top, especially when it seems so impossible, feels strangely exhilarating.
We’re barely up the first incline when Zoe’s voice echoes from down below. “I never signed up for this!” she calls out, trailing at the back of the pack with only Matteo behind her. “Did Ieverexpressanyinterest in doinganythinglike this, Joshua?”
He keeps his mouth shut. Mercifully for us all, she doesn’t push it.
I, on the other hand,didsign up for this—and by the third switchback I’m seriously starting to wonder why. Would it really have been so bad for me to just lounge by the pool with Abby for all of June? That would have been the far more rational choice. I want to cry, thinking of how incredible it would feel to be there right now instead of here, whereI feel increasingly like I’m losing a war with gravity. My pack is a million pounds heavier than it was when we started, even though there’s less in it thanks to my diminished snack reserves; my leg muscles have simultaneously turned to both lead and jelly.
I grit my teeth and keep going.
After the next turn, we’re dizzyingly high up. We’ve come so far, and we’re almost there—only one more turn after this stretch of the path—but there is a very real possibility that I might pass out before we get there.
“You’re doing a good job, Sadie,” Thorn says a few minutes later, when my progress grinds to a halt and I can’t help but take a break, slumped against the solid cliff wall just to give my back a little relief. “We’re almost there. You’re doing great, okay?”
I nod, but I’m too winded to talk back. It’s been pretty quiet for the last two stretches, most of us similarly struggling—even the tennis girls, whose staminas have bordered on inhuman until now—so I doubt anyone minds a couple of extra minutes to catch their breath.
