Chapter Twenty-Two
No one has ever worn a tree-climbing harness quite like Finn wears a tree-climbing harness. It’s a combination, I think, of the surprisingly muscular thighs hidden under those khakis, the not-surprisingly tight backside I’ve spent plenty of time watching in front of me on the trail, and, oh yes, the smoldering glare his handsome face is now permanently set in.
That last one’s my fault. As I adjust the straps on my own tree-climbing harness, I go over the past couple hours in my mind.
My second mistake, after raising my right hand instead of left in the first place, was the next thing I’d said to Finn post-Swapportunity. A hastily blurted out, “Why didn’t you do what I thought you were gonna do?”
It was a flurry of chaos in the wake of The Big Switch. Or The Big Switch That Wasn’t. In the end, only Zeke, Enemi, and I opted to switch, meaning there was no other team for those two to swap partners with, so all teams stayed as we are. Basically causing a bunch of drama and hurt feelings for nothing—nothing but the good TV that comes from drama and hurt feelings.
Finn’s scoff made the trees shake. “Have you listened to anything I’ve ever said to you, Natalie?” he’d near-shouted, out in the open for the cameras and Burke Forrester and god herself to hear. “How did you possibly think I was going to choose to switch?”
“Of course I listen!” I’d pleaded back, scrambling to justify my choice and also to make us less of a spectacle. “You said I’ve been screwing you out of a chance to win this, and you were right. You deserve to go on with a partner who can help you win.”
“That’s not—I didn’t mean it like—” He let out a frustrated sigh-groan. “I was trying to tell you that you’re capable of winning, that you have done amazingly already, and not to let all that other noise in your head get in the way now.”
I’d clutched at my tightening chest. “That other noise in my head is my feelings and concerns and anxiety, Finn. It’s not all stuff I can ignore. I can’t grumpy robot my way through life like you can.”
Finn shook his head, already starting to walk away. “No, there you go again. Filtering out what I’m actually saying, picking and choosing what words you can patchwork together into the lies you want to tell yourself. You know I support you, believe in you, will validate you to the end of the AT and back. But what am I supposed to do when it never seems to stick?”
“Finn…” He waved a hand before sulking off and has been avoiding me ever since. Which is a tough job when “ever since” involved a brief, tense lunch, then hiking four miles as a big group to the site of our next challenge. The vibes were the weirdest they’ve ever been, even for the two teams that both chose stay, all of us hiking with a few strides between each person. Finn stayed at the very front, back in his comfort zone of not engaging with anyone.
We arrived here, a place called Newfound Gap, to find a cheerful Burke Forrester demonstrating absolutely no ability to read a room. He’d explained that since today’s challenge requires a bit more specialized skill, the crew was going to help us don the equipment and practice using it before we began filming. Thus, the harnesses. We’ve each been able to practice using them to support ourselves in shimmy-stepping up and down tall hardwood trees.
It’s nerve-racking, to be sure—plenty of opportunity to fall to my death, even if the professional arborists say the whole point of the harnesses is to prevent that. But I’m trying my best to keep it together, for Finn’s sake more than anything. He’s officially stuck with me now, and I want to do right by him more than I want to be right about my own incompetence.
I’m also motivated by Harper and Evan, the two people with a track record of not handling heights well, but who have already shown they’re determined not to let it stop them today. The tree climbing only takes us to half the height of the observation tower, but I still want to cover my eyes the first time a nervous Harper goes up.
Nerves that prove unnecessary when she comes back down with a smile on her face.
“That was much better than the other day,” she declares. “I trust my own legs way more than I trusted that rickety ladder or piece of string I had to slide down.”
Evan’s verdict after they try it is similar, which is extra reassuring. Team Hevan is once again doing more good for my mental state than either member of Team Finnatalie.
Producers call for us to circle up, requiring Finn to stand next to me at last. Does he feel the electric charge in the foot of air between us, like I do? Or is that just steam coming off of his body from his fiery fury at me?
“Co-EdVenturers!” Burke says once we’re filming. “Welcome to Newfound Gap, the lowest pass over the Great Smoky Mountains, straddling the Tennessee–North Carolina state line. We’re standing on storied ground, as on September 2, 1940, President Franklin D. Roosevelt came to this pass to dedicate Great Smoky Mountains National Park while he stood with one foot in each state. So in today’s challenge, ‘Newfound Knowledge,’ we’re going to honor the park’s great history and legacy by testing your trivia skills—and hugging its trees.”
I smile at his description of tree climbing, but it’s the fakest smile I have to offer. A Burke Forrester smile, a performing-on-opening-night-when-you-have-food-poisoning smile. And my stomach feels just as uneasy.
Burke goes on to explain the challenge, in which each team will be assigned to a different tree with a platform secured to its trunk about twenty-five feet off the ground. On every platform is a stack of wooden blocks with trivia questions on them. One at a time, teammates will climb up to the platform, being careful not to topple the block stack. Once you reach it, pull a block out of the stack, anywhere but the top row, and call the question out to your partner on the ground. If your partner gets it correct, climb back down and let them take their turn. If they miss it, pull another block. The first team to correctly answer five questions without toppling their stack of blocks wins. If your stack falls, your team must rebuild it and start over completely.
This sounds stressful enough on its own, but then we learn it’s an immediate elimination challenge, with the last team to get five correct answers going home.
I’ve used my lavender rollerball sparingly, what with all the warnings about scented things attracting predators. But I roll it halfway up each forearm while the camera crew gets set up by each tree, taking long inhales with it right under my nose, to boot.
“It’s going to be fine,” Finn grumbles at my side, making me jump. “Ginger says the questions are multiple choice.”
“Oh good,” I sigh, words laced with sarcasm. “We’re absolutely crushing it with choices today.”
A growly noise is his only response before he walks away.
When the challenge commences, Finn climbs up first, and his ease sends me straight back to our mini golf course break-in. Seems impossible that it was only days ago.
“Okay, Natalie,” he yells down when he has a block in hand. “Great Smoky Mountains National Park gets how many visitors per year? (A) Two million, (b) seven million, (c) twelve million, (d) fourteen million.”
I actually think I know this one. It was in one of my guidebooks, wasn’t it? Because the number surprised me, as did the fact that it’s the most visited U.S. national park. I’m pretty sure it’s twelve million. But it could be fourteen. The two and the four are so close together, it’s confusing.
God, just like that, I’m back in a classroom at Oliver, terrified of being called on because I never seem to say the right things. Finn will be so mad if I get the very first question wrong. Hell, I’ll be mad at myself.
“Natalie!” he shouts. “You know it or you don’t and you make a guess. Either way, let’s keep going.”
His glare would be more intimidating if it wasn’t mixed up with so much concern for me. I make a snap decision. “D) Fourteen million.”
Finn turns the block over and my heart turns over with it when his lips twitch in a hint of a smile. “That’s right.”
Relief flows through me as he pockets the block and heads back down, but the tension ratchets right back up when I start climbing. I’m still unsure about this whole harness situation, but I’m trying my best to keep calm and smell the lavender. In my periphery, I see Harper spider-monkeying her way up her and Evan’s tree, bolstering my courage.
When I get to the platform, the block I pull out is in the very center of the Jenga-like tower. “How many native tree species are represented in the park?” I read out. “(A) Forty-five, (b) one hundred thirty, (c) seventeen, or (d) one hundred.”
I really wouldn’t know this one. It feels both like there are a zillion trees around here and like they all run together. I definitely read up about more than seventeen kinds on the AT as a whole, but—
“(B) One-thirty,” he answers almost immediately. My brows rise when I flip the block and find he’s right, and we are starting off two for two.
The trend doesn’t last. On Finn’s next time up, I don’t know that Horace Kephart is one of the fathers of the national park who a nearby mountain is named after, as opposed to the three other old-timey white guy names to choose from. But Finn keeps his cool as he pulls another block, and I do know that the native people who originally lived on this land were the Cherokees. Granny Star was very interested in correcting any “revisionist history” I learned in school, which, as it happened, was a lot.
On my next turn, with the prompt of “Great Smoky Mountains National Park houses the greatest diversity of this animal in the world,” Finn incorrectly guesses lizards instead of salamanders.
“Ahh, I don’t know which block I can pull next,” I say mostly to myself as I eye the dwindling stack.
“Oh, so this is a difficult choice,” Finn mutters. He’s seemingly talking to himself too, but something tells me he wanted me to overhear.
“Really? We’re doing this now?” I’m back to yelling, block tower forgotten as I put my hands on harness-covered hips. The cameras below hurry to cover both Finn and me, surely picking up on a good storyline about to go down. On the ground, Enemi, Meena, and Evan all turn their focus from their partners to send wary looks our way. I would be self-conscious about it, but my surly teammate has all my energy and attention.
“No, dammit, just pick a block!”
“Urrrgghhhh!”I roar my frustration. I start to go in for a block, but my hands are shaking like a street sign in the background of a hurricane broadcast. But instead of flying off and knocking out an unlucky weatherperson, they’ll knock over the blocks and lose both Finn and me our hundred thousand dollars.
I’m not done talking. He opened this door, so I know he isn’t either. Even if he’s trying to shut it again, I’m wedging my beat-up, quaking little fingers in and pulling.
“I didn’t want a new partner, Finn,” I shout back. I don’t want this to be a group discussion, but I can’t come back down until we get a question right. And I can’t keep holding on to what I need to say. “I wanted to give you the chance to have one!”
Finn’s hands go to the top of his head, fingers lacing together as he tips it back. “I never wanted that. In fact, I remember telling you in the past twenty-four hours that I only want you as my partner. I don’t know how I could have been clearer about that. So you weren’t doing any favors for me.”
“Just because it wasn’t what you wanted doesn’t mean it wouldn’t have been the right thing for you!”
His laugh is humorless. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that you’re the right thing for me? That you’re the best thing that could’ve happened to me from coming on this ridiculous show?” The words make my breath catch in my throat.
“Finn,” I squeak out, voice weakest it’s been all day.
“Leave it, Nat. We need to get through this challenge. See?” He gestures to where Harper and Evan are jogging over to Burke Forrester and the orange flag with their arms around each other’s shoulders, apparently having collected all five blocks first. I feel the adrenaline kicking in, a surge of urgency and competitive spirit spreading out through my veins. He’s right that we need to focus. We’ve had too many close calls already.
I do my best to recenter myself on the task and steady my hands, pulling a block from near the top and barely stirring the stack as a whole. Finn answers this one, about the meaning of the Cherokee name “Kuwahi”—“mulberry place”—with surprising ease. When he goes up again, I waver on the question of the single most visited attraction within the country’s most visited national park.
The choices are Laurel Falls, Cades Cove, Kuwahi, and the Rockefeller Memorial. I rule out the Rockefeller Memorial, because I didn’t know it existed until today. Apologies to the Rockefeller family. Kuwahi could be the one—I mean, highest point of the whole Appalachian Trail. Nice observation tower, when you’re not having to rappel down from it.
But it’s Cades Cove that’s calling to me. I remember going a few times with Granny Star, this beautiful oasis just outside the touristy hubs of Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg. And in addition to stunning natural beauty, it had lots of visitors, a slow-moving parade of cars rolling down its loop road even on weekdays, forever making my grandma wonder aloud whether anyone had jobs or went to school anymore. It feels right.
And more importantly, I see Enemi starting to climb her tree, Zeke yelling, “Last one! Let’s go!” That does it.
“Cades Cove!”
When he gets to the ground, we run over to the flag, and our second-place finish is official. We don’t hug or high-five. Finn is a frown away from the most sullen I’ve ever seen him, back when we first got paired up. But this time, I don’t know if it’ll get better.
“Your partner justgrowled at his half-eaten veggie burger before throwing the rest into the fire. You know anything about that?”
I look up at Harper from my perch. Like Finn only a few long days ago, I’ve settled onto my own log of loneliness at tonight’s campsite, apart from the rest of the group around the fire. Harper’s features shift from amused to worried at whatever’s on my face.
“He’s mad at me because I tried to switch partners,” I say, crunching my uneaten potato chips between my fingers over the plate on my lap. It’s the bubble-wrap-popping kind of therapeutic, in that it’s not very helpful but gives me something to do with my hands.
“Oh good, because that’s what I really wanted to ask about, but I didn’t want to just dive right in,” she says, taking a seat a couple feet down the log. “What was up with that?”
A sad smile pulls at my lips and I brush chip crumbs off my fingers before leaning back onto my palms. “I thought it’s what he would want, too.”
“Why? Weren’t you all friends at this point?” Her usually flat tone is animated enough to suggest I’ve truly baffled her.
I consider how much to divulge. Finn and I had decided at the hotel that we wouldn’t tell anyone we were teammates who kiss, not wanting others’ opinions or TV cameras involved in this brand new thing. But if the thing isn’t even a thing anymore, does it matter? I’ve always told Reese and Clara every detail of my relationships from start to finish, and now that a similar, if newer, friend has sort of kind of asked, it’s occurring to me how much I want to spill. So with a sigh, I begin.
“We were possibly a little bit more than friends.”
If I’m expecting a dramatic pause or gasp, I’m let down. Harper’s reply is instantaneous. “Whew, I’m glad that’s out there, because I totally thought so, but I wasn’t going to make you talk about it if you wanted to pretend otherwise.”
I’m the one who gasps now. “Harper!” I gently swat her arm, catching her mischievous eyes and unrepentant smile. “From now on, why don’t you just come right out with what you want to know, okay? In fact, if you have anything else on deck, now’s your chance.”
I wait a few moments with my most patient, expectant face, and she seems to think about it before shaking her head. “Nope, that was all. Carry on. More than friends and stuff.”
So, I tell her everything. The whole progression of Finn’s and my relationship, from its glacially chilly beginnings to the fiery peaks of mini golf and hotel beds, all the way to when I threw a bucket of cold mountain creek water on our undefined more-than-friendship today. I don’t go into everything Finn and I have revealed to each other, but I do let her in on my anxiety issues, how they started during the school year and have followed me all through this experience. Harper seems to get the gist. And she’s observed plenty on her own, more than I could’ve realized.
“Oh, I knew it was gonna happen from that day we went swimming. You guys have it all—forced proximity, grumpy-sunshine, there’s-only-one-tent. Romance was inevitable,” she deadpans.
“I didn’t know you were a romance reader too!”
“Of course,” she says. “All the bad bitches are.”
A good point. But I replay her words. Were we really inevitable? Should I have seen it all coming?
“I don’t think I’ve been very sunshiny recently.” I draw a circle in the dirt with the toe of my boot. Add two eyes and a frown. “Maybe that’s our problem. Now we’re just grumpy-grumpy.”
“You didn’t ruin shit,” Harper retorts. “Hard as you’ve tried to. Pushing him to get another teammate and all. How did you ever think he would choose switch?”
“I’ve been holding him back!” I cry. “We both know it! He said as much when he more or less warned me that we were going to lose.”
When I look over at her, Harper is shaking her head, looking thoughtful. “I wasn’t there for the conversation, of course, but it sounds like he also told you how awesome you are and how much he likes you. But obviously the hurtful stuff is going to burrow deeper in your brain. And because you, like me, have anxiety, you’re going to overanalyze any criticism to hell and back until you’ve convinced yourself it’s way worse than it actually is, and you’re way worse than you actually are, and everything is terrible and there’s no hooooope…Am I on the right track?”
My mouth hangs open. “I—it’s not—” I blow out a defeated breath. “Maybe. You have anxiety too?”
“Of course. All the bad bitches do.”
That gets a real laugh out of me, and she smiles before continuing. “I’ve learned to manage it all right—moments of losing my shit at the top of an observation tower notwithstanding—and from what it sounds like, it’s still pretty new to you. But I promise it doesn’t have to be so terrifying and control everything in your life forever. Your brain’s not a broken thing to fix, it just has some extra features to figure out. If you want, when we get out of here, I can tell you about finding my therapist and experiences with medicine. But I also know people who swear by meditation and mindfulness stuff.” She shrugs. “Point is, you don’t have to navigate it all alone.”
My crying reflex is on a hair trigger right now, and that’s what sets it off again. Through halting, weepy speech, I try to convey that I’m not crying because I’m sad; it just means a lot that she’s there for me. I don’t think she understands half the words, but Harper pulls me in for a hug that’s warmer than anything I’d expect from someone who definitely told me she wasn’t into hugging, letting me get the shoulder of her Unlikable Female Character shirt all wet and snotty and a little mascara-stained.
“I can get these out,” I say when I’ve composed myself, pointing to the black smudges. “Let me take it home with me after this, and I’ll ship it back to you.”
Harper dismisses this with a hand wave. “Not important. You feeling better? Healthy release of emotions done you some good?”
“A little,” I sniffle. “Thank you for letting me dump all this on you and being so nice to me. You didn’t have to do, well, any of it. I mean, we’re technically competitors. You could’ve been like, ‘Fuck you, I hope you do have an anxious breakdown that knocks you out of the running!’?”
She looks at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. “Well, that would make me a horrible person. And an even worse friend.”
“Ugh, and there you go again!” I say, voice getting all watery once more. “Calling me your friend like it’s nothing.”
What follows is another crying jag, and more of my half-coherent ramblings about how it’s been a long time since I’ve made a new friend and I was starting to think I was un-friend-worthy now. Then Harper sharing her own story of a rough transition to college, but how things started looking up by the end of freshman year as she found her community, then me pestering her about Zeke’s increasingly obvious crush on her, her assuring me it is not returned and she’s not dating until after med school. I’d love to see if she sticks to that. By the end, I think we’re both emotionally spent. Maybe physically too, as her yawns are growing more frequent and contagious.
“I guess we should get some sleep,” I say eventually, as night sets in around us. I peer over my shoulder to the other side of the clearing, where Finn is still sitting in a chair by the fire with his back to me. Scattered in a sparse circle with him are Enemi, Zeke, and Evan, the other remaining Co-EdVenturers after we said goodbye to Meena and Cammie today.
“He and I have done a real role reversal, huh?” I turn back to Harper. “Mr. Campfire Casanova over there being social all night long.”
Now she’s frowning. “Uh, he’s been reading a book the whole time. And I told you about the angry veggie burger sacrifice. Not exactly chill vibes coming from his neck of the woods.”
Oh.I sigh. “Well, I don’t know what I can do at this point.”
“Plenty,” Harper says with her easy, understated confidence. “But how about you start with not letting yourself think you’ve screwed everything up forever? Start realizing that you’re in the top fucking three. Semifinals of Wild Adventures. And that all relationships have issues, especially brand new ones born in stressful circumstances. But you two are gonna rally and get to the happily ever after.”
“How?” I ask meekly.
She throws her hands up. “Do I look like I know?”
“Honestly, yeah! You’ve seemed so sure about everything else in this romance!” I throw back.
Her lips quirk up. “I don’t know how, but I have a strong feeling you’ll work it out. Give him space, since he seems to want it. Collect your thoughts and feelings, and when the time is right, you kiss and make up.” The side-eye she gives me is knowing and mischievous. “And zip your sleeping bags back together, you freaks.”