Two days with Sophie and she’s still not strong enough to leave camp. Plus we are running out of food…and coffee. I make us both breakfast, using our last two bags of oatmeal, and she limps out of her tent to sit on a downed tree log across from mine. Her hands go over the ACE bandage wrapped around her ankle. She’s got her little notebook with her and it’s all I can do not to stare at it.
She puts her notebook on the ground and takes the cup of coffee I hand her. We sit like this, the birdsong around us making this feel more dreamy and less precarious.
“I thought we’d see more people on the trail since the weather let up.”
“You must have slept through most of them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah you missed super-beefy guy and his skinny wife.”
“Jack Sprat was here?”
“Apparently.”
“Oh, and there were the fighting women. Four of them. All in bad moods.”
Sophie nods. “Trail does that to you.”
“I guess.”
She laughs. “This is good,” she says, and because she lifts her bowl as she says it, I know she’s talking about the oatmeal, but I wonder if she also means this. Us.
“We’ve got to get some food.” I hold up my mostly empty pack. Shake it. “The cupboard is bare.”
“I’ll go change. I think I’m okay to walk now,” she says.
“No.”
“No?”
“Your ankle is still not good enough to hike.”
“I think I should be the judge of that.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “You’d think you should, but…”
She picks up a pinecone and throws it at me. She misses.
“Man, you’re getting mean like those women on the trail who came through while you were sleeping.”
This makes her throw a stick that is easy to duck, but I let it hit me so she can feel accomplished. “I need to make some phone calls anyway, so I was thinking I’d go back to Neels Gap and resupply.”
Her eyes go to her backpack. “I don’t have much… I was going to find a job…”
“It’s okay. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a box coming anyway.”
Her face looks like she doesn’t understand what I’ve said.
“Ha! You’re reconsidering your theory about me running away from home, huh?”
She eats around the smirk that’s popped up on her face. “A box does put a dent in it.”
I finish scraping the sides of the oatmeal bowl, and put it on the ground. “I’ll be back later today.”
“Leave the bowl. I’ll clean it.” She picks up her notebook and starts writing.
So, now I’m torn. Is she going to bury another note? A note I won’t be able to dig up. I pull my shirt down over my wrist, and tug at the rubber bracelet Em gave me. I need to stop obsessing about her notes and start doing the right thing and go get food since we are almost out.
“I’m going to leave you with this, just in case.” I hand her the sat phone Rain Man gave me.
“What if you meet up with a bear on the way?”
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Nope.”
I try to look cool by saluting her as I walk away, but like most gestures with me, it comes across as stiff and weird. She laughs and salutes back. I adjust my pack and set out southbound instead of northbound, which feels weird, since it’s back tracking. That’s the kind of thing that I usually can’t let go of. But this time, it’s necessary. Sophie needs me.
• • •
As I get closer to the mountain crossing, my phone vibrates in my pack. I stop and take it out. Messages from Emily.
You need to check in!
Everyone’s worried.
You have to start thinking of others.
And by others, I mean your mother.
This is wrong.
I shouldn’t have agreed to cover for you.
Call me as soon as you get these messages.
I’m instantly filled with anger. It grows and grows and I have to sit down. Then get up. Then pace.
Then I get another text.
I’m coming to find you.
She’s got to be kidding. The worst part is I’ve got no idea when she sent this text. Was it after I hung up on her and left to go after Sophie? My reception has been nonexistent, and now that I’m back in reach of phone service, I can’t tell when these texts were sent—they’re all time stamped when they came through on my phone.
I jab at the screen, my aim affected by my mood, and I almost end up dialing some random number. At the last second, I cancel the call. I make myself breathe for ten seconds. Then try again. I find Emily’s contact and hit call.
She doesn’t answer. Great. Does that mean she’s in class? Asleep? I can’t even remember what day it is. Where could Emily be? Please not here. I don’t want her to come looking for me.
I try not to think about Emily and why she isn’t answering her phone and if she’s already left to come find me, but it’s got me kind of rattled. I walk in circles around and around. Me circling. Like a dog chasing its tail. I crouch. Put my head in my hands. This is ridiculous. What are the odds that Emily’s actually here?
I push on toward town, going back through the rocky section of trail. Remembering what it felt like to chase after Sophie, the memory of that fear growing along with my current anger. I’m so busy racing ahead, I almost run into someone. That someone calls out.
“Hey, Dylan.”
I startle. The voice is familiar, like a punch to the gut. Not Emily, but her boyfriend, John, which means she’s not far behind.
“Emily had a location from your last call. She figured we’d start looking for you here.”
“We?” My stomach contracts hard.
“Just Em and me. Nobody else knows.”
“Yet,” Emily’s voice comes from behind John.
John moves aside, and I face her, and even though I don’t normally read facial expressions well, I can see hers are angry. Every muscle in her face is tight. Her unflinching stare knifes into me. I hold up my hands. “I get it, Em. You’re mad.”
She shakes her head. She can’t even look at me. This is bad. She starts to walk away. John stands there, letting this crappy scene play out. Letting us work it out.
I jog to catch up with her. “Come on, Emily Rose.”
“No fair using that.” She scoots around me.
I jog in front again. Even if we all-out raced, she’d never keep up the pace with my long legs. “I’m sorry.”
She stares at me, her face getting all scrunched, and she starts to cry. She punches me in both arms. “You can’t keep saying that and think it makes your actions okay.” She swipes at her tears like she’s more pissed at them than she is at me, which is probably not the case.
“Emily, you don’t understand. No one does.”
“So make me understand.”
I think about telling her about Dad’s heartbeat. I think about telling her how I should have known it was irregular. I should have said something, but the words are cemented inside of me, and there is no way they are ever coming out.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
“Come home.”
“I can’t.”
“Then at least write to your mom. Tell her you’re okay. She’ll listen to you.”
“You think?”
Emily is quiet for a moment. “Even if she doesn’t, this is not fair.”
“Did she sell my boat?”
Emily looks down. And just like that, anger builds inside me again. I know it’s not fair to be mad at her, but it’s my go-to emotion, and that was my boat. My boat. From Dad.
I’ve got ten different responses lined up in my head, all artillery I know better than to use on Emily. But she must think my staring at her is worse than yelling, because she throws her hands in the air and shouts, “What did you expect me to do?”
“Stop her! Dad gave me that boat. It was my private boat, like in the story!”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
I push past her toward the resupply store. I pass people on the way in, but don’t pay attention to them. I grab some oatmeal, more beef jerky, some noodles in a bag, and ibuprofen. I’m throwing stuff in my basket when Emily appears in front of me again.
“You write to her now. Or…” Her voice is low and growly, but I’m too focused on the supplies I need, how my boat is gone, how she let it happen, and how she’s here threatening me.
“Or what?” I snap.
“Or I’m done with you.”
“Then be done. I’m done with you.”
I grab bags of cookies. Candy bars.
I don’t even pay attention as Emily storms out of the store. I grab a jar of instant coffee and am considering a second when Emily returns. Her face is red and there are tears staining her cheeks. “Be done with me all you like, but I’m telling everyone where you are. You are being selfish.”
John comes into the store and puts his arm around Emily. He leads her out.
There’s a guy working in the shop who tries to act like he wasn’t listening to our outburst. I take my things to the register and pay. I’m usually careful about how I pack supplies in my pack, but I just shove it all in.
Emily can’t mean what she said. But I’m pretty mad also. My boat is gone, and Emily and I are broken. The only person, other than Dad, who was always on my side isn’t anymore. I barrel out of the store and break into a jog. The rhythm of the run should calm me, but I’ve got to get to Sophie. I’ve got to tell her they’re coming for me. My family is going to drag me out of the woods and back to my life. Back to all of their expectations. Back to that horrible school they’ve picked out for me. Back to Brad shaking his head like I’m some curse on the family. Back to all of the yelling. Back to everything I ran away from. Back. Back. Back. Suddenly I’m calm. Backward. We should hike backward. A person could lose themselves on the trail if they wanted. Maybe forever.