I Am Girl Power

by Katie Cross

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. I wouldn’t even think it. Karen’s face when she let me go swam through my mind.

  Then again, sometimes things didn’t go the way I planned.

  Imagining Justin powering his way up the other trail served as steady motivation for the first twenty minutes. One fiber at a time, the muscles in my legs warmed up. The trail climbed a steep pitch from the start. Within the first half hour, I felt like I’d climbed thirty flights of stairs. My lungs begged for air. Atticus stood on top of a boulder, peering at me as if to say, Come on, silly human. We’ve just begun.

  “I’m … coming…” I panted.

  When I stopped at the rock, I propped my hands on my waist. I couldn’t do this for seven miles and maintain a competitive pace. Although I was loath to admit it, JJ’s energy gels called to me. I preferred hiking mountains on my own energy.

  But maybe today’s extenuating circumstances merited a little … boost.

  Reaching into a pocket, I grabbed a pouch, tore it open with my teeth, and downed it in one gulp. The saccharine taste of cherries and something metallic filled my mouth. I swallowed, chugging half a bottle of water with it. The aftertaste coated my tongue with a dry, chalky taste.

  “Yuck.” I wiped my mouth off with my sleeve. “These better be worth it.”

  A sharp snap broke the air when I started again. I paused, breath held. When I moved my eyes down, not daring to breathe, I confirmed my suspicion.

  “A broken shoelace? Seriously?”

  Two frayed ends of my shoelace hung over opposite sides of my right shoe, having broken apart right in the middle. Atticus trotted up to my side, sniffing into my shoe as I pulled it off. He recoiled. I rolled my eyes.

  “That’s your own fault,” I muttered, my pack sliding off my shoulders. I sat on the trail and reached down, yanking the laces free with sharp, jerky movements. After two attempts, I tied a firm knot in the broken strings and re-laced the threads. They fell short, leaving two holes unfilled. The back of my foot slipped out of the shoe every now and then. That’ll be annoying after a few miles, I thought.

  “C’mon, Atty. Let’s go.”

  I started up the trail but stopped ten feet later. The sound of four pattering paws didn’t race to pass me. I turned around to find an empty trail. The leaves on the quaking aspens fluttered like thin coins in the breeze.

  “Atty?”

  I returned to the same spot and peered into the bushes. No sign. Not a single stirring of life.

  “Not funny, Atticus. Come!”

  A bluebird fluttered by, chased by another. They swooped past me, disappearing into the foliage.

  “Atticus?”

  I tromped into the bushes, shoving scrub oak aside, wresting brambles and knee-high wildflowers. When I stopped to unwind a strand of hair from a high branch, I froze. In the distance to my right came a faint bark.

  “Atticus,” I yelled, turning. “Atticus, come!”

  The bark sounded again. I yanked my hair free and charged through the weeds. Ten minutes later, I stumbled on an old tree hiding in a copse of aspens. Atticus pranced along the base of it, barking with fits of aggression. In the lowest branches chattered a squirrel, its puffy tail flicking behind it like a horse.

  “Seriously?” I grabbed his collar. “Let’s go.”

  He wheeled around at my insistence, trotting through the high grass with an occasional glance back. The wild, untamed beauty of the meadows sprawled in disorienting skirts of variegated viridian and mossy green. The clump of trees on the left looked exactly like another clump of trees to the right. Various animal footpaths meandered through the space. I’d been so intent on not losing Atticus that I hadn’t searched for landmarks. Disoriented by the sameness of it all, I stopped.

  Atticus vaulted a high clump of wildflowers and headed north. I threw my hands in the air and followed. With any luck, he’d know where to go.

  After another fifteen minutes of careful searching—and four attempted butterfly snacks—Atticus found the trail. We started our ascent a second time. Within minutes of reclaiming our path, a heady buzz sprinted through my legs. I pushed hard and fast, feeling the energy course through me like neon lights. Perhaps JJ’s friend really had something with these gels. I’d have to tell him to keep the recipe.

  We settled into a steady hour of uninterrupted hiking. The sharp mountain walls and heavy pitch of the trail required all my effort. Thanks to low traffic, Atticus and I lost the trail several times and had to backtrack, wasting precious time. In my bragging, I hadn’t paid as much attention to the grade as I should have, but with the help of the gels, I pressed hard.

  On the first outcropping, I stepped off the trail and peered down the mountainside. The height of our climb gave me vertigo. The edge dropped into a sheer rock face that plunged into the river. The canyon unfurled, carved by the distant whitecaps of the frothy water and the bushy peaks of the evergreens.

  “Three miles,” I murmured to Atticus, who peered down the side. I playfully swatted his face. “We finally made good time once you stopped chasing squirrels.”

  I grinned, grabbed a second energy gel, and slurped it down. A slow start notwithstanding, Atty and I had this hike in the bag.

  An hour, two miles, and three lost trail moments later, I lurched to a stop.

  The top of Custer Mountain loomed high in the distance, a pillar of granite and stone. Half a mile ahead, the timberline disappeared into a field of slate and shale that led to the final ascent. The intense sunlight bounced off the pale rock faces.

  Sweat coated my shirt and back, dripping down my arms in hot trails. The sun beat relentlessly hard this high. Every breath seemed to give me less oxygen. I glanced at my watch. Five miles completed. Only two left. My stomach churned, so I grabbed my bottle and swigged. Water leaked from the corners of my mouth and dribbled down my jaw. My unusually insatiable thirst left me only one more bottle. I’d never felt thirst so strong. Water had never tasted so refreshing.

  After pouring the rest of the water into the bowl I carried for Atticus, I spun the lid back on and straightened up, surveying the soft meadows. The grasses waved in the gentle breeze, scattered with nodding wildflowers. Atticus finished drinking and pounced on a wandering moth, his jaws snapping. I put a hand to my still-rumbling stomach and peered up at the azure, cloudless sky. One day I’d come back up here and take time to enjoy the bigness of it all. A yawn tickled my jaw. I reached back for another energy gel, but my hand came back empty. Had I already eaten all three?

  “C’mon, Atty,” I said, replacing the pack. “Let’s beat your human. I have a credit card to pay off and brothers to keep happy.”

  Just as I headed back to the trail, an irritated cramping in my bowels caught me by surprise. I paused. It soon passed, and I started hiking. Within minutes, my belly spasmed again. I had time to scramble into the trees before I lost all control. Ten minutes later, I returned, my stomach still in prickly stitches.

  “Awesome,” I muttered to Atticus. “Nothing helps a hike like grumpy bowels.”

  Atticus waited for me, ears perked, on the trail. When I stepped up to his side, he trotted away, tail swinging. But now, with my abdomen on the warpath, every step uphill felt like a small mountain. Despite my previous determination, my energy flagged. I trudged forward, my toes dragging in the dirt. Half an hour passed, and I’d only gone half a mile. Twenty yards away, the shale field began. The grass clumps had thinned out. A hawk soared overhead.

  “Lunch,” I murmured, with an edgy sense of panic. I needed to eat but had no time. The last thirty minutes should have gotten me at least a mile, if not more.

  Still plodding, I reached into my backpack and groped for the two PB&J’s I’d packed, but my fingers only brushed canvas at the bottom. I paused, then yanked the backpack strap off my shoulder and pulled it forward.

  “No,” I said, peering into the almost-empty pack. “No. Way.”

  I closed my eyes. I’d completely forgotten to grab lunch! JJ h
ad side-railed me with his energy gels, and then Mark had called for us. All I had was a couple water bottles for Atticus, an old stick of jerky, an applesauce packet, and—eureka! Another energy gel. My stomach gurgled again. I snatched a small package of biodegradable toilet paper and dashed into the trees just in time. When I returned, Atticus nudged my pack with his nose.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said, ripping the top of the energy gel off with my teeth. “I’m hungry, too.”

  With the gel halfway to my mouth, I paused. JJ’s words floated back through my mind. He’s testing this current recipe, so he’s not sure how well it works. Energy gels were packed with electrolytes and sugar and sometimes caffeine. They often caused gastrointestinal distress. This untested recipe could be worse than usual.

  Especially during intense workouts.

  I recalled the syrupy taste as I’d forced the others down. My gut seemed to roll over again. A dry, dense field of sand trickled down my throat. No wonder I’d been so thirsty! Energy gels required water to break down.

  I tossed the gel back into my pack with a growl.

  “Great. I did this to myself.”

  Going further now would be risky for several reasons—there was no cover if I needed another dash into the trees, and I had little water left for the descent. Considering the rumbly state of my stomach, a need for discretion could be imminent. What if Justin made it to the top before me, then glanced down just to see me crouched on the side of the trail, emptying my sick bowels? I grimaced. Not happening.

  Unbidden, I yawned again, my lips spreading so wide I thought my jaw would pop. Whatever lead I’d had would be gone by now. I struggled to keep my eyes open, too sleepy for panic anymore. All I wanted was a gallon of fresh water and a deep, dreamless nap.

  I lay down under the last cluster of quaking aspens and stared up at the sky. Atticus lay down next to me, warm against my side. I burrowed the tips of my fingers into his hot fur.

  “Just for a minute,” I murmured through a yawn. The soft whisper of wind brushed my hair against my cheek. I snuggled my head against the pack and closed my eyes, willing my body to relax just a little.

  Just for a few minutes.

  The heady blackness of a deep nap stole over me, and I gladly welcomed it.

  Chapter 17

  Some Pride

  When I woke up, something felt different.

  My eyes flew open. Atticus stirred at my side, tilting his massive head back until it rested on my shoulders. The muscles in my arms and legs had the tight, stiff feeling of not having moved in hours. I blinked, staring at the sapphire sky. The numbers on my watch read 2:09.

  I shot straight up.

  We’d been asleep for hours.

  My stomach gurgled when I leaped to my feet, and I instantly regretted my quick movement. The sore, inflamed muscles in my calves and thighs protested. I dropped back to the ground with a wince.

  “The twins are going to kill me,” I said to Atticus. “We were supposed to be back an hour ago.”

  Atticus hopped up—a bit more gingerly than usual—and wound his way through the aspens toward the trail.

  Moving more slowly this time, I stood up. My head swam for a moment, then cleared. Nothing had changed in the landscape. The gentle breeze had faded. The sun had tracked farther against the sky. A brave ground squirrel chattered from behind a close rock. Despite my panic, I couldn’t deny a sense of being physically rested, although my abdomen felt wrung out for an entirely different reason.

  I paused, staring at the top of Custer Mountain. I’d been asleep for three hours, at least. I could still summit, but that would cost me time and energy. After my spectacular crash, I wasn’t sure I had more ups and downs left to endure. What if the staff sent out a search party for me? I cringed at the thought.

  Returning would be my best option, even though I had to face the ugly music: I owed Justin $500 I didn’t have. The magic wand that was going to solve all my problems disappeared in a wisp of smoke. So much for the easy road out.

  “Ugh,” I groaned, kicking a rock. “The twins are never going to let me live this down.”

  Summiting Custer Mountain would have to come later. In the meantime, I had to figure out how to tell Justin I didn’t have his money.

  And get over the fact that I loathed biffies.

  I stepped out of the biffy the next evening with a twisted face, my breath held. The heat of the summer had baked the small wooden house, turning the already sour air into something fetid. I hoped I could scrub the stench of urine off my skin.

  “Looking good, Meg!”

  “Is it just me, or is it definitely time for a little nap?”

  A couple of staff strolled by, poorly attempting to cover their chuckles as they disappeared into the trees.

  “Laugh it up,” I muttered. “I’m fixing your dinner, and I just cleaned a nasty toilet, you overgrown children.”

  The skin of my fingers had wrinkled when I pulled my elbow-length plastic gloves off and tossed them into the bucket. Ten to go. Why did they have so many biffies? Couldn’t the boys just pee in the trees? A second pair of feet approached me from behind, and I braced myself for another round of teasing.

  “Whoa! Blister!” Mark waved a hand in front of his face. “Cut down on the fresh veggies, will you?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “So.” He waggled his eyebrows. “How’s it going? Do you love your new job? Should I rearrange things so you can do this all the time? Or you can just take a nap if you’re sleepy.”

  “Shut up.”

  He followed me as I moved past him, bucket in hand. Justin hadn’t even gloated when I’d returned, metaphorical tail between my legs. Then again, by the time I reappeared exhausted, dehydrated, and wearing one shoe because I’d thrown the other into the trees in a fit of low-blood-sugar rage, pretty much everyone had been concerned. Thankfully, no one had brought up the exchange of money yet.

  “JJ did try to warn you about the energy gels,” Mark said. I strode down the trail so quickly that he moved into a slow trot. “I mean, to be fair. They’re new and experimental, so obviously diarrhea would be an issue. And with that much caffeine, sugar, and ginseng?” He whistled. “You’re lucky your blood sugar didn’t crash into a coma.”

  “What do you want, Mark?” I snapped.

  “Fine, fine. You don’t have to worry about dinner tonight. JJ, Justin, and I have it covered.”

  I moaned. “That’s even worse!”

  He clapped me on the back. “Sometimes we fall so that we can get back up again.”

  “Get off me.”

  “Does it make you feel better if I point out that it will take three of us to replace you? And we’re having JJ do his famous grilled cheese sandwiches. He claims he does it butter-free.” His nose wrinkled. “We’ll see how it pans out. He’s coming out of veganism for this moment.”

  “He’s vegetarian, Mark.”

  “Whatever.”

  I paused, considering. “Yes, it does make me feel a little better.”

  “Good.” He pushed me back onto the trail. “Now go clean my biffies while I check on a possible bear sighting. Don’t fall asleep!”

  When I finished cleaning, I showered for twenty minutes with the hottest water I could tolerate, scrubbing my skin until it tingled. Although I hadn’t enjoyed the process, I had cleaned those biffies.

  Distant voices filled the background as I walked the trail from the outdoor staff showers, carrying my dirty clothes in a plastic sack. Darkness fell. The sunset faded between each tree, turning them into black spires. A nearby cricket chirped as I approached my cabin, grateful to be clean.

  “Hey, Meg? Over here.”

  Although I couldn’t see him, Justin’s voice streamed through the trees by his cabin. The comforting scent of campfire lingered in the air. I dropped my bag in my cabin and headed over, my hair still damp on my shoulders. A fire flickered in a small stone circle, flaring toward the trees in orange and yellow tongues of flame. Justin sat with
his back against a log. He motioned next to him with a tilt of his head.

  “Have a seat.” He nudged a plate covered with foil my direction. “I brought dinner for you.”

  “Is the kitchen closed?”

  “They’re running a big poker game.” A brief lull in conversation brought a sound of guffawing from the lodge. “Thought this would be less chaotic.”

  I sat next to him, balancing the plate on my knees. “Thanks,” I said. “That was really thoughtful of you.”

  He poked at the fire with a gnarled stick. The charred end sent a plume of red and orange sparks dancing into the air. I opened the foil to discover a grilled cheese sandwich and peeled orange slices. The tang of the juicy orange erased some of the bitter bleach taste in my mouth.

  “This is delicious,” I said, pulling off a piece of the sandwich. “JJ makes a mean grilled cheese.”

  We sat in the silence for several minutes after I finished eating. When I tossed the paper plate into the flames, the edges started to smoke and then curl. I watched it disintegrate into the crimson ashes and disappear amongst the coals, and then I pulled my knees into my chest and wrapped my arms around them. Justin looked over but said nothing.

  “I have to admit something,” I said, staring at the flames.

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t … I don’t have $500.”

  The fire glittered in his eyes when I met his gaze and quickly looked away.

  “I made that bet because I’m a little behind on a credit card payment, and I really thought I could win. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so arrogant.”

  Desperate, I thought to add but clamped my mouth shut.

  “You would have, I bet, if you hadn’t crashed from those gels.”

  “Maybe,” I murmured. “But that doesn’t matter as much as the fact that I didn’t win and I can’t pay you right away. But I will! I will pay you. It just may take a few months.”

  “Meg, don’t even worry about it.”

  “Of course I will. It’s … it’s just embarrassing,” I said into my jeans. “And it’s even worse if you forgive it. I want to pay it. Just give me some time?”