“Positive.”
She frowns but doesn’t push. “Okay. What about your treatment?”
“My doctor okayed it.” My voice sounds steadier because I have actually taken care of this part. I’m not completely unhinged. “We talked about a backcountry trip at my appointment last week, and she said yes to all of it. The drug trial isn’t the same as active treatment. I get to live my life. And, you guys, I need to live again.”
“Youareliving,” Avah insists.
I press my palms flat on the table. “I don’t want to be the girl everyone tiptoes around. The one you take turns checking on like I could shatter at any moment. I want to do something that leaves me with a story worth telling.”
I’ve played life safe since making Skylark my home, and it served me well…until it didn’t. Cancer is an equal opportunity life trasher. Now I miss the girl who took risks and acted on impulse. I want to reclaim that part of me, leaving out the self-destructive behavior. But I’m not going to find her by playing small while I cheer on everyone else’s big transformations from the sidelines.
“I’m doing this,” I say, my tone firm. “And I’d love to do it without the people I love trying to keep me encased in bubble wrap.”
Every woman at this table has walked through her own version of fire and came out changed for the better on the other side. I want that, too. More than anything.
“You need a sat phone,” Avah says into the silence that covers the room like a weighted blanket.
“A what now?” I ask while my brain scrambles to catch up to the seemingly random direction this conversation has suddenly taken.
“A satellite phone,” she repeats, as if I need to be quicker on the uptake. “You have to take a sat phone on this hike and promise to call if you need anything.” She jabs a finger in my direction. “Anything at all. Got it?”
The backs of my eyes sting again, but this time I don’t bother to tell myself it’s allergies. I know what it means when Avah goes all business. The same thing it meant every night she showed up at my apartment with homemade cookies and zero small talk when I was too sick to pretend I was fine.
Avah would burn the world down for the people she loves and consider it another day at the office. So the fact that she’s talking logistics means I have her support. And none of my other friends are arguing, which means even more.
Nobody says anything for a long beat.
“If a bear eats you,” Taylor says softly, “I’m going to be really mad.”
“I’m not going to get eaten.” I hope to God it’s a promise I can keep.
“Of course not,” Sadie says, thumbs flying across her phone. “Because you’re taking bear spray. I’m texting Diane from Summit Supplies and asking her to keep the shop open late.”
“You don’t have to?—”
Sadie holds up a hand. “Already done.”
“We need a gear list.” Iris sits up straighter and pulls a small notebook from her bag. “What do you already have?”
Excitement and nerves take turns dancing along my spine. I’m really doing this. “A pack, tent, and sleeping bag.” I tick the items off on my fingers. “Broken-in boots.”
“Essential.” Piper gives me an approving nod. “Blisters are no joke.”
“No blisters,” I echo.
“What about a water filter?” Iris asks, then adds it to her list when I shake my head. “A headlamp?” Another head shake and more scribbling.
“Oh, crap.” I let out a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “I’m totally not prepared.”
“We’ll get you there.” Molly squeezes my hand again. “What about the bookstore? Will Suzanne need help covering shifts?”
“Suzanne can handle it. I think.”
“We’ve got her back if she needs anything,” Molly assures me. “Just like we’ve got yours.”
“You’re doing this, Sloane.” Taylor grins. “It’s our turn to cheer you on.”
“Let’s fucking go,” Piper shouts, and suddenly the excitement overtakes my anxiety.
