We headed out to Grandpa’s vintage car. I really could care less about cars, but his Mustang was pretty sharp. He had taught my mom how to drive on it, and it was still in great shape. I could picture my mom and dad on a date, cruising around town before I was born. But that would have never happened because I was born two years after they met down south. And my mom never came back to Detroit to live. Just a quick trip to pack up some of her belongings. She was a girl in the mountains from then on.
It turned out that Pontiac was only about a ten-minute drive from Bloomfield. Nick was right. There was rock climbing right in my own backyard. The plastic kind. I had been to climbing gyms all over the country for competitions, but never Planet Granite.
My stomach convulsed as we walked up to the industrial-looking building. Why was I so nervous? I wasn’t going to climb. I purposefully hadn’t even brought my gear. Grandpa walked his grandpa pace, and I slowed down to match his stride.
I paused just inside the gym. The guy behind the check-in counter gave the other employee a shove. Subtle.
“Hey, you here to climb?” he asked.
“Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”
The guy stared at me for a second, then asked, “Aren’t you Cara Jenkins?”
Was this my stalker? “You go to Bloomfield High?” I asked.
The guy smirked. “Uh, no. I graduated two years ago.”
And then I noticed the rack of climbing magazines, just like Nick had said. Everyone who climbs there knows who you are.
“You’re telling me you’re not here to climb?” The guy’s smirk was permanent. His arms were covered with tattoos—sleeves. The piercing in his tongue flashed when he talked. Why did I keep running into all these punks and goths?
“I’m just going to look around for a minute.”
“What? You need to see if we’re good enough for you?”
My scalp prickled. Who did this guy think he was? I wanted to tell him off, but tears threatened. I knew I shouldn’t have come here. I could feel Grandpa moving closer to me. Breathe.
“Do you have a brochure with prices?” Grandpa asked. “Something about the after-school club?”
Oh my God, Grandpa. The other employee stared at us. He was the clean-cut opposite of the guy talking to us. Tall and fit with super short hair, almost a buzz cut. A spray of tiny pimples dotted his forehead.
“You have to take a class your first time here,” Tattoo Guy said. If it was possible for his face to turn even more mocking, he accomplished it.
I gave him my best Don’t be an idiot look. “Obviously I don’t need a class.”
“Well, you gotta pass the belay test before you’re allowed to climb.”
“Whatever.” I hoped he would snag his lip on his tongue piercing.
“You should take their test now,” Grandpa said. “Then you’ll be all set to climb whenever you want.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t even bring my harness. Let’s just look around.”
The buzz-cut guy smiled. “No worries. We’ll loan you a harness. I’m Blake. Follow me.”
Grandpa nodded and nudged me forward. Tattoo Guy’s sneer burned into my back.
We entered the climbing area, and the soaring walls and dusty smell of chalk hit me like a punch to the stomach. I couldn’t help but think that Mom, Dad, and Uncle Max were going to walk up any minute. Choosing not to climb had seemed like a protest at first, but now I felt the full force of the fear behind my decision.
Grandpa gave my shoulder a squeeze.
Blake led us over to a corner wall and handed me a rope. “Sorry about this. It’s just policy, you know, liability.”
“It’s okay. I get it.” At least this guy was nice. I would have walked out for sure if Tattoo Guy was the one giving the belay test.
I ran my fingers over the tightly woven strands of rope—red, yellow, and green swirled together like the colorful market in Ecuador. I thought of my parents and Max roped together on the mountain, the rope severed, the end frayed and unraveling.
“This is how Mom taught me when I was little,” I said to Grandpa. “You make a loop, then take the end of the rope. It’s a rabbit. He runs around the tree and down into the hole. See, that makes a figure eight. Then I thread this through my harness and follow the figure eight all the way around to make it double.”
“Okay, so what’s the belay part?”
“I’m getting there.” I untied the figure eight knot and clipped the belay device to my harness.
“Now Blake’s the climber, and he’s going to tie the figure eight onto his harness. I’m going to pinch the other end of the rope through my belay device. When he climbs up the wall and slips and falls, all I have to do is hold the rope back like this and it will stop his fall. He’ll just be hanging there, and I can slowly lower him down.”
A whoosh and a shout echoed from the other side of the gym. Laughter. A girl swung on the rope near the ceiling.
Blake laughed. “Just like that.”
“Climb on,” I said to him.
“Nah, it’s okay. I know you know how to belay. Obviously. Um, if you want to climb, we can find you a belayer, or uh I can do it, like, you know, for you.”
His face turned a darker shade of pink with each word, and heat flushed my face too.
“Thanks,” I said with a smile. “Maybe next time.”
What was up with me? Nervous about climbing, blushing over a belay offer? I was just one of the guys.
“That’s it?” Grandpa asked. “You passed the test?”
“That’s it.”
“But you don’t want to climb today?”
“Nope.”
He stood with his hands on his hips, looking up and around. “What’s over there?”
I followed his gaze to a cave-like structure. “It’s for bouldering. The walls are shorter, so you can climb without a rope.”
“Show me.”
“Grandpa …”
“Oh come on, just give me a little demonstration.”
“I didn’t bring my climbing shoes.”
He raised his eyebrows at me.
I sighed and headed over to the bouldering area and climbed on. I traversed part of the wall and maneuvered under and over a ledge. I felt the silence and a half dozen eyes on me as I jumped down. I was used to people watching me climb. I knew how to tune them out. But this was different. I didn’t want anyone watching me now.
Grandpa grinned. “Reminds me of your mom when she was little. She used to climb the fence in the backyard, back and forth, until her hands were red and smarting. It was a game, how long she could last without her feet touching the ground.”
Huh. Even here in Michigan, my mom had found a way to climb before she even knew it was a sport. Before she’d ever seen a mountain.
I could feel the smirking tattooed guy staring at me as we left, but I didn’t meet his eyes. Buzz-cut Blake called out just as we reached the door.
“See you soon!”
Probably not, I thought, and gave a little wave.