Chapter Nine
NINE
It should come as no surprise that no one in your group knows how to paddle a canoe.
Still, it’s kind of astonishing what a disaster it is.
People going forward. People headed bass-ackward toward the shore.
People spinning in slow circles like upended beetles.
It would be hilarious if you didn’t need to accomplish this to get food, and if you weren’t one of the worst offenders.
You’re in a boat with Fran, who sits in front of you just holding her paddle across her body like a lap bar on a roller coaster.
Her hood is finally down, revealing pink hair that looks much brighter in the sun.
Fran, as it turns out, does not like being bad at things, and in the face of this current humiliation, she has gone completely silent and immobile—“dorsal,” your therapist once called it.
This leaves you to thrash around, trying to point your vessel toward the open water.
You look for Diana, and you see her in a canoe with Troy.
Something is still bothering you about Silas’s revelation, and you’re not completely sure what it is.
Maybe it’s just that Diana was desperate enough to bring booze on a therapy trip, which seems like a layer of not-okay you didn’t sense from her until now.
But there’s something else too, something that you can’t put your finger on.
You look around for Silas, and see him paddling behind you.
“STOP!” he shouts suddenly. “Everybody, stop!”
And for the first time, you see him laugh.
It’s a full-throated one, and you’re pretty sure it’s at you rather than with you, though it doesn’t seem cruel.
More like a pharaoh watching in amusement as his servants try to build a pyramid out of old busted rocks.
His face remains calm, and he paddles by, barking out orders in a cheerful tone. Will sits quietly behind him.
“Okay, listen up, people! You need to rotate your torso! Don’t paddle with your arms! Look at me, Troy! Use your whole upper body like this! Keep the paddle in your field of vision! Synchronize with your partner! Diana, that means you!”
Silas keeps at it, but as he drifts farther from your boat, it gets harder to hear him. And all you pick up is:
“… paddle shaft even with the keel of the boat…”
You want to make a joke about Silas’s “paddle shaft,” but you don’t know Fran very well yet, and you’re not sure how she’ll react to your fifth-grade sense of humor. She might think you’re harassing her. So instead, you look away and try to speak in a completely neutral voice, saying:
“So maybe I could paddle on this side if you just want to—”
Fran hocks something up and spits it into the lake, which you guess is her response to your suggestion. Then she automatically switches to the other side and stabs her paddle in the water like a murder weapon.
“So,” she says, “what’s with you two anyway?”
She puts her hood back up and doesn’t turn around. Her sweatshirt of choice today is jet black, doubling down on the grim-reaper look, a raised paddle her proxy scythe.
“What?” you say. “Who?”
But she ignores you completely.
“I mean, I get it,” she says. “I think I might already be in love with her. The hair alone is grounds. But she hasn’t even looked at me, so I’m guessing she’s not into girls. Or she doesn’t know she’s into girls yet, and I love myself so I will not be taking on that project.”
“Are you talking about Diana?” you ask.
“Um, yeah,” she says, splashing up some water with her paddle. “You guys can’t go thirty seconds without looking at each other. I’m not going to turn around, but you’re probably doing it right now.”
You’re quiet at this. She stops paddling and finally looks at you over her shoulder. There must be a chastened expression on your face, because her voice instantly changes.
“Sorry,” she says. “I’m not great at small talk. We don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to. I guess I’m just jealous you guys are so close already.”
Because she’s not paddling and you are, the canoe is now going sideways.
“Case! Fran!” yells Silas. “Synchronize! C’mon!”
You both plunge your paddles back in the water, on the same side at first, then you alternate again.
You look around for the others, but you’re all scattered across the lake now.
Diana and Troy are easily forty feet behind you, though Troy actually appears to be paddling, albeit kind of half-heartedly.
“It’s not what you think,” you say.
You’re about to add more, to tell her about Sean. It wouldn’t be hard. The words are so simple.
She dated my brother. He died.
But it’s more complicated than that, so nothing comes out. Then an awkward-enough pause opens up that you feel compelled to fill it.
“She actually kind of hates me right now.”
The word hate lodges in your throat, and you have to swallow it down.
“Psssht,” says Fran. “That’s no big deal.”
She’s rowing faster now, and it’s hard to keep up.
“What do you mean?”
“Hate you can work with,” she says. “Hate means they care. Indifference is what you have to worry about, my gangly friend. And that’s what I’m getting from our lady at present. If she could look through me, she would. I would trade places with you in a minute! Hate is … that’s a possibility.”
You turn around again, and Diana’s canoe has made up some ground. She and Troy are actually announcing their sides out loud.
“Left. Right. Left. Right.”
“I know her. From before,” you say.
“I suspected,” says Fran. “Were you guys close?”
From across the river, Diana paddles faster, getting into the rhythm.
“Yeah,” you say.
And you can tell Fran wants more details, but that’s when you hear Silas again from up front.
“Adventurers, are you ready?” he says.
His question hangs in the air until, finally, Troy takes a break from his deep concentration and provides the necessary response.
“Ready for what?”
“Your first group challenge!”
Fran turns around and nearly hits you with the grip of her oar.
“What did he say?”
“Something about a challenge,” you say.
“Ugh,” she says. “What is this? A reality show?”
Beside you, Troy and Diana have actually pulled even with your canoe.
You look at Troy this time, and he has an expression on his face like the one when he first asked you for a pill.
He’s breathing hard, and his glasses start fogging up.
He goes to wipe them, and when he can see again, he immediately drops his paddle into the lake.
It hits the surface with a splash and starts to float away.
“Troy!” says Diana. “What the hell? I think we’re going to need that!”
But he’s not moving. He’s not moving because he sees what’s ahead. And when you finally look away from his terrified face and see for yourself what’s coming, you freeze too. You don’t drop your paddle, but you can see how one might. This is definitely a paddle-dropping kind of moment.
Because what’s ahead are some swirling rapids, and you are heading right toward them. You’ve never seen actual rapids before. And while these are relatively gentle by movie standards, there is still a very real current whipping along, and they look like they could probably kick your ass.
The lake is feeding into a river, and the water where they meet is churning, sending foamy white splashes up in the air.
A couple of rocks obstruct the path, and water just pounds them, erupting over the top in waves.
It’s hard to tell how close you are, but you’re definitely moving faster than you were before.
No one’s even paddling anymore, but it doesn’t matter; the water is moving, so you’re moving.
Silas is talking again, but you can barely hear him through your shock at what’s coming.
“Life is going to throw things at you that you’re unprepared for,” he says in what can only be described as “loud therapy voice.”
Your boats funnel closer as you approach the river.
“That’s what life is, really. A bunch of stuff you’re unprepared for. Control is an illusion. But you can learn to handle it, guys. It’s possible. Sometimes you just have to let the current take you.”
You all pull closer to the rapids with each word.
“Jesus Christ,” says Fran. “You can’t paddle us backward, can you?!”
You stick your paddle in the water to give it a try, and the power of the water almost rips your arm off.
It’s kind of shocking how strong that force is.
Fran has to reach back and grab you by the shirt to keep you from going ass over teakettle.
And when you look back up, you’re only a few feet away from the start of the rapids.
Fran yells something as the current sucks at your boat, but it’s hard to hear.
“WHAT?” you say.
“I SAID I REALLY HATE METAPHORS!”
For a moment, you think everything might be okay.
It doesn’t look like too long a stretch before the safety of the next lake.
It’s just a little speed, then you’ll coast to a stop on the glassy surface beyond.
You raise a fist in the air to try to embrace it all, and that’s the exact moment when you feel the crash of another canoe careening into yours.
Then everything goes dark.
The world sounds like a vacuum roaring through your ears, and when you open your eyes, you’re underwater and you can see the white rapids swirling above you.
Your life jacket is trying to tug you up, but the current is making it hard.
Also: You have never been colder in your entire life.
You spot someone near you, kicking toward the surface, and you start to swim.
As you get closer, you see it’s Diana and you reach out for her.
You both pop up at the same time, your life jackets up around your ears, and your packs floating around you like lily pads.
An upside-down canoe drifts by and you half-heartedly reach for it, but its destination clearly has nothing to do with you.
Fran pops up next, sputtering and swearing, but seemingly okay. Then you hear screaming from behind you, and you all turn at once.
“Oh god,” says Diana. “Troy’s on that rock.”
Which is true. Troy is definitely holding on to a rock, water pulling at him from all sides.
You know right away what you’re supposed to do in this situation.
But your brain protests. You’re too numb to move.
You try to swim forward, but the current is strong and your limbs are slack. Maybe from the cold. Maybe from panic.
“Guys!” yells Troy. “I’m not a strong swimmer.”
You want to help him, but you feel drained. Empty of life. The water pulls you toward the shore, and a half-hearted attempt to move forward almost sends you back under. You turn around and Diana can’t get there either.
“Hold tight!” she yells to Troy. “We’ll get you from the shore!”
She looks at you and nods.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Just let go.”
You both stop treading water and try to let the current carry you.
You look back at Troy one more time and find him gripping tight.
His strength is impressive, but it’s unclear how long he can hang on.
Then you spot Will and Silas on the nearby bank.
They’re moving quickly. Silas is rushing to an outcropping near Troy’s rock, Will trailing him.
And as you all watch, Silas carefully reaches over the water and holds a canoe paddle out to Troy, who looks at it like it might as well be a pool noodle come to rescue him.
Silas is yelling something you can’t hear.
And gradually, Troy peels a hand off the rock and reaches for the paddle.
He misses the first time. Then he extends a little farther and grips it hard.
He closes his eyes and lets go of the rock completely.
For a second, you think he’s going to get swept away, but Will grabs the paddle too, and the two of them manage to tow him to shore, where he sits stunned in his soaking-wet clothes.
Somehow, you make it to the muddy bank and claw your way up through the cattails.
Diana moves up ahead of you, and you watch her squeeze her hair, trying to get the water out.
Her boots are squelching water, and her pants are stuck to her legs.
She’s just as soaked and humbled as you, and you know there’s nothing she would rather do than get into some dry clothes or lie in the sun. But instead, she walks over to Troy.
He doesn’t look up. Still, she sits next to him.
You can’t hear what she says, but you can see the care in her face.
And you see her mouth something encouraging.
Troy blinks and eventually he nods. She pats his shoulder and stands up, and then she looks back at you for just a moment before heading toward Silas, who is already working on a fire.
He’s got blankets from his canoe, and he’s handing them out.
Diana takes one and throws it over her head, bundling herself like a papoose.
You shiver and hug yourself for warmth. In this moment, you feel total defeat. You were hoping that just being out here on the trail might miraculously unlock some ability to act brave in tense situations. But that does not seem to be the case.
Wherever you go, there you are.
You turn to Fran, who still looks shaken, and you say:
“You were right.”
Fran blinks. Her memory of your talk seems long gone at this point. She pulls off a boot and dumps out about a pint of lake water. It spatters on the rocks.
“About what?”
“Me and Diana.”
Something clicks in her eyes.
“We weren’t together,” you say.
Then you close your eyes.
“But I was in love with her.”