In not-so-good news, things that usually come so easily have been a lot harder today.
Most days, I never have to remind myself to engage with theothers about landmarks and wildlife we pass along the way, and all of my familiar catchphrases—step here, watch out for that branch, remember your sunscreen and bug spray, don’t forget to hydrate—come out on instinct.
Today has been a struggle.
The harder I try to stay hypervigilant, the more my thoughts wander to the two dueling forces vying for my attention: Sadie and Matteo.
Matteo pulled me aside last night after s’mores.
“We need to talk,” he said, unsmiling.
Naïvely, I assumed we were on the verge of some sort of heart-to-heart—a follow-up from our conversation by the stream earlier this week, or maybe him breaking down about his breakup with Blair. I pictured him groveling for my support since Blair ditched both of us in the exact same way.
What heactuallysaid caught me off guard.
“What’s going on with you and Sadie?” he asked instead, before proceeding to make all sorts of accusations: that my head had been in the clouds all day—that if I hadn’t been so absorbed in chatting with Sadie, I would have warned Brittany to watch her step, and she wouldn’t have almost fallen over the edge.
Basically, he jabbed his finger right into the open wound of the insecurities that had already been plaguing me ever since the incident.
“Nothing,” I told him, as if I could hide the feelings that have started working their way into my heart like stubborn weeds.
“Right,” he scoffed. For a moment, I thought he might have seen even more than how Sadie and I had been chatting each other up on the trail—had he seen us at the gazebo? Or, worse, coming back from the shower?
If he did, he didn’t call me on it.
“Well, you need to get it together, man,” is all he said.
Never, for as long as we’ve known each other, has Matteo initiated a conversation with me—withanyone—that was anywhere close to confrontational. The fact that it happened at all feels as unsettling as his actual words. It’s not like him.
Also: Does he think I’m not already feeling terrible about what happened with Brittany? Shouldn’t he know me well enough to know I’ve had a guilt trip going through my head ever since the incident, telling me I should have been more vigilant about keeping everyone safe—and that I’m already paranoid about how distracted I’ve been?
I think he knows all of this and decided to give me shit about it anyway.
The worst part is, he has a point.
There was no way I could take Sadie up on her offer after that—especially since Matteo was watching me like a hawk. I couldn’t let him see me climbing into her tent, as much as I wanted to.
So I slept outside.
Woke before dawn.
Ran three miles, even though we had a long hike ahead of us today.
And then, just as soon as I thought my head had cleared enough for me to step up like the leader I’m supposed to be, I ran into Sadie at the Little Free Library—and all the feelings I’d tried to snuff out with logic and discipline came blazing back as soon as I saw her standing there, looking down at the pile of her stuff.
If you’d asked me on Day One what I thought Sadie Whitlock would get out of this experience, I would have confidently told you she was destined for confirmation that she is not cut out for the outdoors.
No one is as surprised as I am to see how wrong I was.
I’ve been thinking about it all day. Abouther.
About her stash of coffee stuff, about the ceramic mug she drinks out of every morning—she told me once, adorably, that the little happy-face sun made her feel a little less afraid of being out here in nature.
I couldn’t just let her leave it all behind.
It’s been burning a hole in my pack all day. I circled back at the last second before we left camp, tucked the mug and her coffee stuff inside when I was sure she wasn’t looking.
Ever since, it’s been a constant battle to rein in my thoughts; whenever they drift to Sadie, Matteo’s words drag me right back down to earth. Over and over, all day long—
