Chapter 17 Thorn #2
I can’t get out of this clearing fast enough. There’s no coffee this morning—it’s too wet for a fire—and the coffee bros all share the same heavy scowl. Emma and Parker aren’t exactly smiling, either, chatting quietly off to the side.
Today’s going to be a blast.
“All right, everyone,” I say once we’re packed up and ready to go.
The deluge has fizzled out into a light mist, and the worst of the storm has already passed over the area we’ll be covering.
“Today’s hike is a bit more challenging than the terrain we’ve covered so far—we’ll pace ourselves this morning to conserve energy for the more difficult stretch this afternoon.
Any of you ever done switchbacks before? ”
Trey raises his hand.
For everyone else, I give a brief overview.
“Switchbacks are a type of path that gains elevation up the side of a cliff—it’s an upward incline to the end, then a sharp pivot to the opposite direction, over and over until we get to the top.
The one we’ll be trekking this afternoon is called Swallowtail Pass, named for the butterfly.
You’re going to wish you were butterflies about halfway up.
It’s very important for you to step carefully, okay?
We’ll take some time up at the top—there’s a great scenic overlook—and then continue on to our campsite at Thimbleberry Grove. Any questions?”
Ten minutes later, we’re off. I’m in the lead again today; the trail is a gloppy, slippery mess, and we’ll be on it for a long while before we get to Swallowtail Pass.
“I don’t think these will ever be white again,” Sadie says, looking mournfully at her shoes, which have progressed from merely dirty to being absolutely covered in mud.
“How’re your feet holding up?” I ask.
She tightens her ponytail under her ball cap. “Oh, they’re fantastic,” she replies. “Never been better.”
It’s sweet how she thinks I’ll believe that for a second.
“That’s good to hear,” I say. “In my experience, wet socks and muddy shoes are kind of miserable on blisters.”
She grins, an admirable effort at hiding the grimace just beneath. “Good thing I don’t have blisters, then,” she says.
“Yes, good thing.”
Two hours later, still on the mild part of today’s trek, she can’t hide the pain in her left foot.
Not from me, anyway—I know a subtle limp when I see one, the shift in gait when someone’s trying not to put pressure on a certain part of the body—but that doesn’t mean she isn’t still trying to hide it.
I call for a break, to no complaints. Everyone seems over the dreary weather, the caffeine headaches, the mud, the mosquitos.
It’s the best place to stop before we start the switchbacks; hopefully this break will revive our collective energy levels—we’re going to need it.
We bust out the trail mix and protein bars and settle down near a small stream lined with moss-covered boulders.
Sadie, of course, has some sort of gourmet trail mix, a spicy-sweet combination of peppery pistachios and dried cherries.
She sees me eyeing it and holds out the package. “Want some?”
“I’m okay, thanks.” I shove a handful of raw walnuts in my mouth, but they’re so dry I have to wash them down with a swig of water.
“Those aren’t too bitter on their own?”
They are, but I don’t want to admit her fancy trail mix looks more appealing than mine. I’m an outdoorsman—it’s not practical to make a habit of doing gourmet anything.
“They’re fine,” I say.
“Thorn. Please. Walnuts were put on this earth to make life miserable for anyone who can’t be bothered to find a better nut.”
“ ‘A better nut’?” I laugh. “Should’ve known you’d be a nut snob.”
She shrugs. “Coffee snob, nut snob—I know what I like, is all.”
Her eyes meet mine, and instantly, I forget everything that was on the tip of my tongue.
I’ve never met anyone quite like Sadie.
I never thought I could like anyone like Sadie, but I do. I like her a lot. All of her particular preferences, the way she knows exactly what she wants and won’t waste her time on anything less—
The way she seems to want me.
Which means, I think, I’ve passed some sort of test to live up to her high standards.
I hold my hand out. “Fine. I’ll try your fancy nuts.”
“Warning,” she says as she pours out a larger handful than I deserve, “once you try them, you’ll never go back.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, I want to say but don’t, because it’s not just about the trail mix—it’s about Sadie herself. Her strong opinions, her sense of humor, her stubborn bravery in the face of all her fears, her eyes and her smile and her long hair and long legs and—just—
Everything.
I got a taste of her this morning, and I’m afraid I’m already in over my head.
I pop the trail mix in my mouth—because she likes it, because she wants to share it with me—and it’s good. Really good. Somehow I knew it would be.
“Terrible,” I tell her. “Just completely awful.”
But she already knows me well enough to see right through me, and she grins. “You can keep the rest. I’ve got eight more of these in my pack.”
I shake my head, laughing. “Of course you do.”