Chapter 11
Since the sun still burned hot during the day, the service club held the monthly service project later in the evening. Mt. Lemmon had a great view of the city, stretching out in the valley below. None of my roomies could make it, and I caught a ride with Larry who turned out did own a car. Once at the meet up at the top of the trail, he immediately disappeared into the overachieving, Mensa-type trio on the far side. When I approached the group, I scanned the faces for anyone I knew.
Lincoln and McKenna stood over to the side of the parking lot behind me. With his long arms, Lincoln hugged McKenna to him.
She stood in front of him wearing a flannel shirt, his flannel shirt, tied around her waist. A cute ponytail was threaded through a soft pink baseball cap, and her sunglasses hid her eyes.
Lincoln said something to her.
She laughed.
I glanced away, focusing on Ms. Reaper.
She handed us contractor bags and instructions. “Be sure to drink lots of water. The sun may be setting, but you can still die of heat exhaustion. Stay on the trails. And watch out for snakes and cactus. You don’t want me to have to pluck those quills out with tweezers when you get back. I do have a first aid kit just in case.”
“We’ll be fine,” someone shouted from the back of the group.
Only a small fraction of people were there compared to the opening social. The advisor counted us up.
“Twenty-three.” She stood back. “That’s four groups of five and one group of three. Or seven groups of three with two left over. Whatever, just tell me who all is in your group.”
I wrinkled my nose. I was going to be left out. I searched the crowd for Larry, hoping maybe I could tag along with him and his friends.
“Hey, Gabby, you can come with us.” Lincoln towered over me to snatch a bag. He leaned closer to Ms. Reaper. “Gabby, McKenna, and me.”
She wrote down groups.
Third wheel. I gulped.
Nice.
“Do we have to stay in our assigned groups?” McKenna asked.
Ms. Reaper tapped her clipboard emphatically. “Everyone must have a buddy, so we don’t leave anyone out here.”
I mentally rolled my eyes. “Trust me, McKenna,” I wanted to say, “I’m just as disappointed as you are.”
At least a third wheel was a common occurrence for me. I shook the black bag open and started down a trail, not caring if they kept up or not. I was here to pick up trash.
I unfolded my gardening gloves from my pocket.
“Good idea to bring gloves.” Lincoln held McKenna’s hand as he navigated the trail.
For the most part, it was well kept and flat with only a few rocks jutting from the sandy soil. Hand holding was not a necessity, unless you’re twitter-pated college kids.
“Yeah, you never know what you’ll be picking up.” I stooped to pick up a soda cup and straw. Then wandered down the trail to another place where a granola bar wrapper was stuck to a mesquite tree.
Lincoln and McKenna followed, picking up bits along the trail, and soon we were separated from the other groups who had taken different paths.
“Here, wait,” Lincoln said.
Stopping, I turned, but he wasn’t talking to me.
He plucked something out of McKenna’s hair. “Bug.” He held it between two fingers to show her.
She screeched. “Ew, get it away from me.”
He blew it away.
McKenna focused her gaze on Lincoln. “Like, how do people survive out here? I could’ve died.”
“Hardly,” I murmured under my breath, picking up a shredded plastic bag the texture of delicate chiffon.
“You’d only die if it were a venomous bug or spider. Most of the dangerous bugs don’t fly,” I couldn’t help informing her, even though it was against the rules of conversation.
“Yeah.” Lincoln ran with my info dump. “They crawl.” He made crawling motions up her arm with his fingers.
She slapped him away, squealing with laughter.
“Except maybe Africanized bees,” I continued on, listening to them behind me, wishing I was anywhere but here. Maybe I could take some of the ratty plastic bag and stuff it in my ears so I didn’t have to listen to the flirting.
The sun sunk deeper in the sky. Sweat still prickled my body, and I took a swig of water. My trash bag, though light, had a good deal of stuff in it.
We stopped at the edge of a ridge and admired the view. Shadows fell across the valley. The sun was brilliant and orange. I dared not to look at it. Already the temperatures dropped. Dark shadows slid sideways along the trail.
“I don’t have much trash in my bag.” McKenna raised her bag up to show Lincoln. “You have way more.”
“That’s because I was picking up trash and you were being talkative.”
With a painted nail, she pointed off the trail down a steeper part where the cacti grew thick. “Look! Lots of trash is down there. We should get it.”
“We’re supposed to stay on the trail.” I paused, hesitating when she faced me.
She arched an eyebrow. “We’re supposed to collect trash.”
I gritted my teeth. “We could run into a rattler down there.”
She pursed her painted lips. “We could run into a rattler on the trail, too.”
She glanced at Lincoln—the tie-breaker.
Lots of trash had been blown down there by the dry wind, caught in the thorny shrubs.
“Are you worried about getting lost?” Lincoln faced me.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. Of course I was worried about getting lost, or stuck with cactus spines. “The point isn’t a competition to see who has the most trash,” I said finally.
“The point is about leaving the mountain better than when we found it.” McKenna headed off the path.
Maybe she had more heart than I gave her credit for.
Lincoln shrugged and followed her. “We’ll go down there and pick up trash, then head right back to the trail. We should turn back soon. The sun will be setting in a few minutes.”
I nodded, conceding. I couldn’t stay by myself. Sighing, I followed the dusty clouds from their footfalls down the mountain, knocking over rocks and stirring up sand, shaking my head.
McKenna stepped gingerly through the jumping cacti, stopping occasionally to pluck debris from the bushes. “There’s a ton of trash down here.”
The side was steep, making it hard to balance, but I plucked up trash out of the bushes and stuff trapped under rocks, thankful I had gloves. Dirt filled my shoes. I halted to dump them out.
McKenna wore sandals. Sandals!
I shook my head. Not the best shoes for hiking in the desert.
We worked around the side of the mountain until the dome of the sky turned brilliant pink. Already, half the mountain darkened in shadow.
“We should head back now.” I grew uneasy at the color of the sky. The number of twinkling stars multiplied on the eastern horizon.
“Just a little bit more. I can see more trash.” McKenna continued farther down the mountain.
I glanced over my shoulder to see if I could find the trail. “We should turn around now.”
McKenna ignored me.
So I changed tack. “Lincoln, I can’t see the trail.”
Lincoln glanced over his shoulder at me, then his gaze searched up the mountain.
“We can go this way,” McKenna said. “I found a shortcut.”
The ground evened out, but her path was no shortcut. Soon, we were surrounded by sheer drops down or sharp rises in front of us, the sun setting behind us.
“We should go back.” I couldn’t see any light but the stars.
McKenna pivoted. “It’s too dark to go back. We’ll have to climb up. This is where we looked out before.”
“The trail is up there. If we can get up.” Lincoln approached the side of the steep cliffs.
“Let me try.” McKenna pushed between me and Lincoln.
McKenna anchored her foot into the sixteen-foot cliff, attempting to scale the nearly sheer rock face. Her sandals with a pointy toe didn’t help. Her fabulously painted nails gripped a few rocks, scattering dirt. She then flipped off her shoes and tried again, climbing higher. Her short skirt hindered her range of motion. Her legs were not able to reach, and modesty required us to kind of squint as she exposed large amounts of thigh. When she was three feet off the ground, I held my breath.
“See, I can do it,” she called. Her bare foot tested another spot, then slid. She screamed, flailing. As we ran to her, rock and shale rained on her, the sound like seashells colliding.
Lincoln rushed to her, catching her before she landed in the sand. Dirt covered them.
“Are you all right?” Lincoln held her.
Her face contorted in pain. “My foot,” she breathed out. At the bottom of her foot, a red streak grew into a puddle.
I examined the pad of her foot. A slice about three inches crossed the ball of her foot. My stomach turned looking at it. The gash was deep, and she was going to need medical care.
“She’s losing a lot of blood.” Lincoln opened a water bottle and poured water over the wound, letting me see the full extent of the cut.
That would need stitches.
I had mended many goats before, so I knew what to do. My actions were almost automatic. With my little pocketknife, I cut a hole at the bottom of my clean shirt, ripping off four inches and wrapping it around her foot to staunch the bleeding. “Elevate it,” I said. “She needs to stay warm. Use the flannel shirt to cover her, to keep her from going into shock.”
“That won’t be enough.” Lincoln stripped to his bare chest, which I would’ve thought nice if McKenna didn’t look so pale and her lips so white and quivering. He wrapped both shirts around her.
I turned to climb up the bank.
“Wait,” Lincoln said behind me.
I turned, my hand already grasping the cliff face.
“I’ll go,” he said, searching me with a pleading gaze.
My heart swelled with admiration for him.
“No, she needs you to stay with her.” I faced the cliff and assessed the jutting rocks and stubborn plants, growing from rocks, searching for handholds in the dim light. I was glad I had my exercise shoes on and a T-shirt and shorts. Finally, I wore something appropriate to the occasion.
In the diminishing light, I grabbed a handhold and wrenched upwards, using one step to hoist me up. I couldn’t worry about whether Lincoln was staring at me and didn’t worry about feeling stupid. But I swear I felt his eyes on me, giving me strength. Surely, he was more worried about McKenna.
I found another handhold and foothold. I was now past the place where McKenna slipped. Another lift up. I didn’t dare look down. Another lift up. My arms ached, my thighs burned from holding cramped positions and hoisting my weight at weird angles. I was so grateful for early morning Pilates.
Arms shaking, thighs quaking, I found the top. My fingertips were raw, and in a few places, bleeding. My knee was skinned, and I was covered in a layer of powdery dust. But I made it to the top! I laid my chest against the dirt, giving my quivering muscles a rest. But not for long. Lincoln was right. The trail was right there.
I raised myself and glanced down into the small canyon.
Lincoln stared up at me. In the fading light, I gave him a thumbs-up and a smile. He smiled back. And then I ran.
My arms and legs felt good to just run. To run away from them. My feet pounded on the packed trail dirt back to the parking lot. I wanted to punish my body but more importantly my heart—which was about to break. I wanted to run fast and hard so my heart would burst out of my chest, and stop working. My legs felt like jelly, my feet ached, and I didn’t realize it, but I had tears on my cheeks.
When I got back to the parking lot I must’ve been a mess. I ran to Ms. Reaper and told her the story of how we got lost and where Lincoln and McKenna were.
“You aren’t up to leading us back,” she said when I started back off the trail with a borrowed flashlight. For the first time, I looked in the side view mirror of a parked car. Dirt marbled my face. My hands needed medical attention, as did my legs.
“Their rescue will be faster if I show you where they are.”
Ms. Reacher and a few other kids followed me.
I had left a hair tie at the top of the cliffs to mark the spot.
Ms. Reacher was already on the phone calling emergency personnel to come with ropes.
“You were very brave,” she said when she hung up and stared down at Lincoln and McKenna who were dark spots at the bottom. Someone had already dropped a first aid kit.
“I don’t feel brave,” I said. “I feel stupid.”
“You covered about six miles going back and forth. You free-climbed a twenty-foot cliff for your friends. If you do not see this as brave, I want to see your definition of the word.”
But guilt riddled me. I should’ve stopped them from going off the trail in the first place, or prevented McKenna’s climb. I should’ve been more assertive and stood up to McKenna and not let her beauty blind me to my own conviction.
Nearing nine, the emergency personnel set up repelling anchors at the edge of the canyon, a guy lowered himself down by using a rock and three other points as anchors, and then helped McKenna up by tying her to him. The desert cooled even in the late summer night. I stamped my feet to keep warm.
Milky white and pasty, McKenna’s face no longer was a picture of beauty. Her shirt was ripped, and my makeshift bandage was soaked through.
The emergency personnel carried her to a stretcher they could take the rest of the way to the parking lot. Once she was away, the EMT went down for Lincoln. When they reached the top, Lincoln flashed me a wry smile. When I saw him, all the stress in my body eased, my adrenaline calmed, and I realized I was not feeling so well.
While the EMT retrieved the ropes, winding them around his arm, Lincoln stood close to me.
I could only barely make out his face in the dim starlight. Flecks of blood freckled his face. Her blood. But his smile was for me.
His eyes danced all over my face, amused. “You look like crap warmed over.”
“Thank you,” I said, pretty sure he’d just given me the best compliment I’ve had from a guy. Finally, I wasn’t invisible. Although my body was exhausted, my eyes beamed.
“No, thank you!” With dust covering his face, he looked over his shoulder at the EMTs. “I should’ve listened to you,” he started. “You were so courageous to?—”
Done with his ropes, the EMT interrupted. “You should get back so you can be with your girlfriend when they admit her.”
“Yes,” Lincoln said, waiting for me to take the lead with my phone flashlight. My fingers were so swollen that I knew I couldn’t get my ring off my finger if I tried. They throbbed from the climb. Even hitting the flashlight button made them sore.
Lincoln and I hiked alone in the star-speckled sky. I gazed up, breathing in the sweet smell of the desert at night. I paused, closing my eyes and just feeling.
Suddenly, warm and strong hands started kneading my shoulders. My eyes flew open. Lincoln was touching me! I kept my head bent, just savoring his touch. I wanted the next few minutes to last forever.
But we had to continue on.
He dropped his hands.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“Thank you.”
McKenna had already returned in the first emergency vehicle nearly an hour ago now. Only a second emergency vehicle was left in the parking lot. And Lincoln’s car.
“I guess I need a ride home.”
Lincoln elbowed me. “I’ll take you.”
With my hands so swollen, I couldn’t even open the door.
Lincoln cracked the door for me, allowing me to crawl across his leather seats.
“You hungry?”
I didn’t think I was until he mentioned food. My stomach burbled at his suggestion.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. To repay you for what you did for McKenna.”
Oh, yes. For McKenna. I did it for her. “You should probably go see her.”
“Her roommate texted a while ago, and said she’ll see me in the morning.”
“What did they say at the ER?”
“She’ll need eleven stitches, but she’s on some heavy pain killer. The roommate would stay with her.”
“Don’t you want to go see her?”
“She’s on painkillers. Her roommate said once she’s out, she wanted to head to bed. Let’s make sure our heroine is taken care of. What sounds good?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Nonsense, I bet you’re hungry.”
I hadn’t eaten before the service project. I glanced at the clock. It read nearly eleven.
He put the car in reverse. “Well, I’m stopping because I’m hungry.”
I was thinking fast food, something quick and easy and through a drive-thru but he pulled into casual dining.
“You up to half-price appetizers?”
“Sure.” I went in and washed up in the bathroom and smoothed my hair in the mirror over the sink. My shirt was still torn, exposing my midriff, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I bent over the sink and whispered to my reflection, “What am I doing?”
After the hostess gave us a booth, I started to feel really weird, being on a kind-of date with some other girl’s boyfriend. The mozzarella sticks and twice-baked potatoes thankfully came quickly.
“So I have another motive for wanting to talk to you.”
“Oh?” I dug into the mozzarella sticks, but then waited for him to start.
He kept his gaze focused on me. “Our treasurer quit. I was wondering if you’d like the job. The position will look great on your résumé.”
I hesitated. As if that was the reason I was doing the service club.
Lincoln finally started in on the potato skins. “It’s an appointed position. The girl dropped out of school, and we’re left high and dry before the Fall Fling.”
“What do I have to do?” I stuffed a mozzarella stick into my mouth, savoring the greasy goodness of fried cheese after all the crazy exertion.
“Just tally up how much money each group makes.”
I thoughtfully plunged another stick in the marinara sauce. “Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest since I’m in charge of a group for the competition?”
He finished chewing. “We’ll still have to provide proof—receipts etc., so I don’t see it as conflict of interest.”
“You still want to be in our group?”
His dropped his gaze, suddenly extremely interested in the potato skins in front of him. “Well, I sorta started going to McKenna’s group. But I’d still like to know what you guys are up to. So keep me in the loop. What do you say about the treasurer position?”
“Um, sure that sounds like a great opportunity. Thank you.”
When we finished and the bill came, he insisted on paying. For the rescue, he said.
I rolled my eyes.
After he paid the bill, we sat in silence. It was nearly one in the morning, and I was pooped. Sitting made my legs feel like old lawn chairs that couldn’t be unfolded. When I tried to get out of the booth, I stumbled into Lincoln.
He held me up.
“My legs stopped working.” I poked them to get feeling back into them.
He chuckled. “Let’s get you home. Lean on me.” At some point he’d replaced his shirt with the flannel one.
I leaned against him as we slowly headed to the car. “I’m sorry. I can’t walk.”
“Can’t walk? What would you do if there was a fire in this place?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eye. “Or if a purse snatcher grabbed your purse?”
“I’d just shuffle as fast as I could.”
A grin spread wide across his face as he opened the car door. He dropped me off outside my building.
When I hobbled to my apartment, Marie was the only one awake.
“What happened?” Her eyes widened, taking in the dirt, the blood and missing bottom of my shirt.
Plopping into the couch, I told her the story from beginning to end. “Lincoln took me out to eat afterward.”
“That is weird.” She frowned.
“To thank me.” With great effort, I stood, shuffling to the kitchen.
“Hm. And he was with you instead of his girlfriend?”
I rolled my eyes and opened the fridge then closed it. “She was all doped up and wanted to go to bed.”
“But he still took you out to dinner.” She raised an eyebrow.
I couldn’t help but feel defensive. “He was hungry, and I was in the car.”
“He gave you a ride home from the service project?” Now she raised both eyebrows.
“Only because he was the only other person still in the parking lot. The other option was the EMT’s.”
“And he asked you to be treasurer.”
“The other girl dropped out of school.”
“But he could’ve asked McKenna.”
“She was in charge of a group.”
“So are you.”
I had no more excuses. He could’ve asked McKenna, but he asked me instead. Even that late at night, two a.m., my mind buzzed, reliving the evening, torturing my heart by yearning for someone else’s boyfriend.