Mariana let out a half laugh, half cry.
“Have you tried to tell them how you feel?” Claire asked, and then winced at herself. Pathetic to give out advice that she wouldn’t take herself.
“They have enough problems,” Mariana said. “I didn’t want to be another one.”
“Noble, but stupid,” Reyva said.
“Hey!” Releasing Claire’s hand, Mariana rustled in the darkness. Claire heard a soft thump and then Reyva said sarcastically, “Ow.”
Then Mariana said, “I’m sorry I lied to both of you. I just... wanted to pretend everything was okay. At least for the summer. I didn’t want to think about it.”
“It’s okay,” Claire said.
“Yeah,” Reyva said. “You don’t owe us every detail of your life. Especially if it doesn’t help to talk about it.” Claire shot a look at the shadow that was Reyva and wondered what it was that she wasn’t talking about. Regardless, she knew she wasn’t going to ask.
“Itdoeshelp, though,” Mariana said. “I didn’t like lying to you. I mean, it was easy at first, and it didn’t matter. But... I don’t want to be like my dad. He was trying to fool everyone, to be someone he’s not. I don’t want to make the same mistakes he did.”
“Are you planning to embezzle money from us anytime soon?” Reyva asked.
Mariana let out another startled laugh. “No.”
“Then I think you’ll be fine.”
They talked for a while more, a lighter chatter about the differences between high school in Indiana and California, levels of snow in February, and their families, until Mariana no longer sounded as if she had tears in her voice.
Eventually, they all slept.
Claire woke at dawn as stiff and sore as if she’d slept on a pile of rocks, which was accurate. Running through a few standard ballet stretches, she blinked her crusty eyes as she listened to the birds. She peered out between the leaves of the wall of branches they’d built as she pointed and flexed her toes. She didn’t see any movement in the woods around them. A woodpecker tapped in the distance.
She also heard an odd whiny rumble.
Listening to it, she wondered what—
“Boat,” Mariana said. “That’s the boat! Up, everyone!”
She shot to her feet, as did Reyva. Claire scrambled up, grabbing her pack. “That way.” She pointed in the direction of the hum. “Yes?”
Pushing their barricade aside, they hurried through the woods. Leaves crunched under their feet, and Claire knew they were leaving footprints again, but speed mattered more.
She ran her fingers quickly over the straps of her pack, tapping them in rhythm to her feet as she ran.A fox and a chicken need to get across a lake, but there’s only one boat...No, it was a fox, a chicken, and a bag of corn. The chicken and the corn can’t be in the boat at the same time. The fox and the chicken can’t be together. But corn and fox are fine. How far away is the boat? How close to the shore? How far away were they?
She listened for the birds, for the water, for the boat.
Her ankle twisted as her foot slipped off a rock. She hissed. Paused. Had she sprained it? Broken it? Twisted it? She couldn’t afford any of that.
“You okay?” Mariana asked.
“Heel first,” Reyva advised. “Rock through your foot. Keep it straight. And keep going! Never let pain define you!”
Claire tested it. In a few steps, the sharp pain faded. Just a temporary twinge. She’d overreacted. She’d hurt her ankle far worse in pointe practice and had kept dancing rather than interrupt the instructor; she could keep running. “I’m fine.” She picked up her pace, catching up to Mariana and Reyva.
Reyva ran with a determination that made it look as if she’d plow through a tree trunk if it dared get in her way. She barreled through bushes. Twigs grabbed her, and they snapped beneath her resolve.
Mariana kept her hands in front of her, warding off the branches.
Claire calculated as she ran. Each step, each turn, as if she were executing choreography. She saw the layout of the trees ahead of her. Right, left, right, straight.
The boat sounded closer. Didn’t it? Or was that wishful thinking?
