Boys, Bears, and A Serious Pair of Hiking Boots

by Abby McDonald

  I take one last look across the street at the trees, green and dappled with sunlight.

  Maybe tomorrow.

  I spend the morning in the backyard instead, stretched out in the hot sun and working on some letters. I have a big blue binder of the names of all my important congressmen and state government officials, and whenever I get some free time, I work my way through the list with letters about Green Teen issues and the environment. I used to shoot e-mails over, copying everyone to the message, but then I realized they just filter them into a “crazy activist” file and forget about them. A handwritten note, on the other hand, seems to have way more impact.

  “Jenna!” Susie calls when I’m contemplating another layer of sunscreen.

  “Out here!” I yell back.

  “Oh, hey.” She emerges from the house, covered in sawdust. “Your mom called, but she was in a rush, so I said you’d call her later.”

  “Everything OK?”

  “Well, she did say she was about to go shopping with Milicent. . . .” We share a grimace. Grandma is nothing if not demanding company. Susie pauses to brush dust off her arms. “Now that I’ve found you, can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.” I sit up slowly and wait for the sun-daze to subside.

  “I need a bunch of stuff from the store, but I’m waiting on a delivery.” Susie holds up a list, her expression hopeful. “Can you run out for me? It won’t take a minute.”

  “No problem,” I agree immediately. I need to get these letters in the mail, and after all, I owe Susie. If it weren’t for her, I’d be trailing around every housewares department in the Orlando metro area right about now. “Is there a bike I can use?”

  “Uh, I think you’ll need the truck for this one — unless you can fit five cans of paint in your backpack!” She hands me the scrap of paper just as the phone begins to ring. She jogs back toward the house. “You should find everything at the hardware store!”

  I’m losing an epic battle when my cell rings. With one eye on the road, I reach over for my purse. “Olivia? I take back everything I ever said about your driving.”

  She laughs, faint and crackling from bad reception. “What do you mean?”

  “Tell me how the hell to drive stick!” I hear a grinding sound from the engine and try to pump the clutch again. A bicycle doesn’t have these kind of problems — oh, no, just five gears and two pedals — and no cloud of exhaust fumes either.

  “How’s it going out there? Have you been mauled by wild bears yet? How’s Susie?” Livvy peppers me with questions. I check the road, but it’s clear in both directions, so I don’t bother to pull over. Switching the phone to my other hand, I turn the radio down.

  “It’s going . . . OK.” I realize how hesitant I must sound, so quickly continue. “Susie’s great, she’s really settled up here, and Adam seems decent enough.”

  “And the step-kid?”

  “Umm, don’t ask.” I yank the truck into third gear with a lurch. It’s lucky there’s no one around to see my bad driving, just an empty stretch of asphalt lined thickly with trees. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a quiet road — I’m so used to dense traffic and four-lane highways.

  “You’ll have to send me photos,” she insists. “I want to see all the mountains and everything.”

  “I will, but . . .” I pause. “I didn’t realize, but it might be kind of hard to keep the Green Teen stuff going up here.”

  “You’re in the middle of nature!”

  “I know!” The irony isn’t lost on me. “But everyone drives around in these hulking great pickup trucks, and the AC is running all the time . . .”

  “Maybe it could be like a project,” she suggests. “Give the town an eco-makeover while you’re there. I know how you love a challenge.”

  I laugh. “Do not!”

  “Umm, you so do. Besides, what else are you going to do? You can’t work up there, right?”

  “Nope, I’m on a tourist visa.” I sigh, thinking of my college account. My parents are giving me a guilt allowance, but I was planning on saving all my summer earnings. “Maybe I should,” I muse. “They could be environmentally friendly by the time I leave! Anyway, what’s up with you?”

  “We got the job!” Olivia exclaims.

  “At the collective? That’s awesome! Why didn’t you say something to begin with?” I cheer. “What will you be doing?”

  “Cleaning, cooking, basic stuff. But I’ve got a list of the workshops they offer, and they all sound so amazing.” She sighs happily. “Plus, I get all that time away from my parents — with Cash!”

  “Uh, yeah, how are they taking that?”

  She giggles. “I haven’t told them about him yet — that he’s going to be there, I mean.”

  “So what did you say?”

  “You’d be proud of me, it was like, Jenna-worthy levels of planning! First, I left some of the camp leaflets lying around, so they could see . . .”

  I settle back in the driver’s seat and listen to Olivia’s familiar chatter, watching carefully for the turn-off to Main Street. Apparently there’s only one, but I’m sure I’ll miss it all the same.

  “So then I just had to have Cash’s friend pose as one of the other counselors and —”

  “Omigod!” I scream, slamming on the brakes. The truck shudders to a stop. I sit there, seat belt painfully tight against my chest and my breath coming fast.

  “Jenna? Jenna? Are you OK?” Olivia cries.

  When I recover the phone from the side of my seat, Livvy is having a minor meltdown. I swallow, staring at the street ahead in disbelief. “I . . . I’m OK. I think.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “A moose.” I whisper, in case it hears me.

  “What?”

  “There’s a moose. In the road.” I blink, but the thing in front of me doesn’t disappear; it just swishes its tail and sniffs the asphalt. It’s utterly surreal, seeing something up close that’s only ever been on my TV or in a magazine.

  “That’s amazing! What does it look like?” Livvy gasps. “Are you sure it’s not a deer?”

  “It’s too ugly to be a deer.” I study the animal, calling on my extensive knowledge of holiday cards. “Maybe it’s mutant goat.” I shake my head. “What does it matter what it is? It’s big and horned and it’s right in the middle of the road!”

  “Is it moving?”

  “No. It’s just standing there.” The beast turns and looks at me with big eyes from under a set of twisted antlers. By instinct, I duck down, hiding behind the dashboard. “Now it’s staring at me! Should I get out?”

  “Calm down!” Livvy laughs.

  “Helpful, thanks!” I hiss. “But I don’t have much experience dealing with wild, rampaging beasts!”

  “You should probably stay where you are.”

  I take my hand off the car door. “You’re right — it can’t get me in here. Can it?” I hit the all-locks button. “What do I do?”

  “Just drive around it.” She still sounds amused.

  “I can’t,” I bite back. “It’s right in the middle of the road. And anyway, what if it charges at me?” I slowly peer up over the steering wheel. It’s still there, standing idly just ten feet from the truck.

  “I doubt it will. But you could try scaring it out of your way,” Livvy suggests.

  “With what?” My purse contains many things, but weaponry doesn’t really figure on my list. “I can’t really walk over with my iPod and play it the last Katy Perry single!”

  She giggles. “Then use the horn.”

  “What if that just makes it mad?”

  “You’ve got to do something,” Livvy points out. “Or are you going to sit there all day?”

  “You’re right.” I brace myself. “I’m trying the horn.” Gingerly, I hit the steering wheel. The sound bellows out on the quiet road.

  “Well?”

  I peer up again. “Nothing. It’s not moving.” I try again, but the moose just swishes its tail at me. “Maybe
it’s deaf.”

  Livvy laughs. “So what’s your next plan?”

  “I don’t know. Wait! I think it’s moving!” Slowly, the thing looks from side to side and takes a tentative step forward. “That’s right,” I tell it. “Keep going; go frolic in the forest with all your moosey pals.”

  It takes another step.

  “Come on, just a little farther . . .” I hold my breath, willing it to go.

  “Is it working?”

  “Almost . . . almost . . . gone!” I shout in triumph as the creature plods slowly into the woods. I exhale a long breath of relief.

  “Man, Cash isn’t going to believe this.” Livvy sighs. “Your second day, and you get to see a moose.”

  I shudder. “Next thing, I’ll be torn apart by wolves.”

  “There are wolves?”

  “Uh-huh.” I ignore her enthusiasm.

  “That’s so awesome. Oh, hey, I’ve got to go pack. I leave tomorrow, but I’ll call as soon as I’m settled in!”

  “Miss you,” I tell her with a pang.

  “Bye, hon.”

  Having triumphed over stick shift and a disgruntled moose, I barely give a thought to the Stillwater boys as I browse the dusty hardware-store aisles. It’s not until I arrive at the front counter to find Grady slouched over the cluttered desk that I remember my not-so-warm welcome.

  “Hi,” I say, smiling brightly. “Can you help me out?”

  Grady doesn’t even look up from his car magazine. A blue baseball cap is pulled low over his eyes, emblazoned with some kind of sports insignia of an evil-looking whale. “I’m busy.”

  I blink. The store is empty, nothing but faded linoleum and stands of old fishing bait. “Umm, I was wondering if you carried energy-saving bulbs, because —”

  He leaves.

  Seriously. Just picks up his magazine and ambles past me out of the store. I stare after him in disbelief.

  His brother, Ethan, emerges from the back room. He’s wearing a blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his arms full of bug spray. He dumps the cans on the counter, sending some of them clattering onto the floor. “Don’t mind him.”

  “What . . . ? I mean . . .” I look around, mystified. “What did I even do?”

  “Besides have a major freak-out last night?” Ethan shoots me a knowing look, hair falling in his eyes. “I don’t know, maybe call us all dumb-ass hicks with no sense of humor . . .”

  “I did not! And he wasn’t even there!”

  He gives a lazy shrug. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Grady gets like that all the time. What did you need?”

  I pass over the list. “I didn’t say those things,” I insist again, worried. “I wouldn’t.”

  “Yeah, but you’d think them.” Ethan seems unconcerned. “We’ve got these up front, I think.” He ambles toward the other end of the store. “All this stuff’s for Susie, right?”

  “Yup.” Suddenly, I realize that his tone is actually friendly. I hurry after him.

  “She’s in here all the time these days.” He drags a ladder over. “Practically keeps us in business.”

  “I was wondering about that.” I pause, looking out of the smudged windows at the quiet expanse of street. “It’s summer, but . . . where is everyone?”

  “Last night wasn’t enough excitement for you?”

  I narrow my eyes, but he seems to be just teasing.

  “It used to be busy. Well, busier,” he corrects himself, climbing up to pass the first paint can down. “But the mill closed down a couple of years ago; that pretty much sucked most of the trade out of town. We settled down again, but then that luxury resort out on Blue Ridge opened last year, and everything just dropped off. They’ll come off the highway for gas on their way out, but that’s about all.”

  “Luxury resort,” I repeat. My heart sinks. I don’t like the sound of that. Susie could make her B and B as charming as possible, but it would still be a big old house on a dusty back road.

  “Spa, gourmet cooking, the works.” Ethan climbs down. “This is all we’ve got. I could put an order in for more, but your best bet is probably just to drive down to Kamloops and stock up.” He names a town I remember passing through on the bus — hours away.

  “Thanks.” I look back at the list. “Say, you don’t have any green brands, do you?”

  He shakes his head. “Only the colors you see right there. Maybe I saw some beige out back . . .”

  I smile. “No, I meant, nontoxic, biodegradeable . . .” I trail off. “Never mind.” A trip to the city it is. “Does Susie know about this?” I ask, following him to the cash register. “About the serious lack of visitors, I mean.”

  He looks awkward. “Yeah, but she thinks she can turn it around. Single-handedly make Stillwater a vacation spot, that kind of thing.”

  “Sounds like Susie,” I agree.

  “We all hope she’s right,” he adds quickly, ringing up some paint rollers. “But, well, you should see the Blue Ridge place. Even their website looks like a million bucks.”

  “You have Internet?” I perk up. Susie hasn’t hooked us up yet, and I’m already feeling twinges of withdrawal.

  He laughs. “We’re not completely backward out here.”

  I blush.

  “Come take a look.” He circles the counter and pulls out a huge old laptop hanging together with duct tape and sheer willpower. “I’m saving for a MacBook,” he explains, ruefully waiting for it to power up. “And a better car. And college . . .”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “See?” Ethan clicks away and then swivels the cracked screen toward me.

  “‘Blue Ridge,’” I read aloud, “‘the luxurious side to nature.’” The web page shows the same sprawling valley that Stillwater inhabits, but glistening through the steam from a hot tub, high in the mountains. A monogrammed towel rests thick and fluffy beside a glass of champagne; a slice of chocolate cake sits on a gleaming white plate. Yup, I’d buy into that, if only I had a spare . . . “Five hundred dollars! A night?”

  Ethan laughs darkly. “And that’s just the starting rate. If you want, you can get helicoptered in and have gold particles massaged into your face.”

  “Right, gold particles. For when silver is just passé.”

  He closes the laptop. “So, you see why we can’t really compete? Stillwater — the muddy side to nature. Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

  “Nope.” I giggle. “Shame. I mean, not everyone wants to eat French cuisine and wrap themselves with kelp — some people actually like all that outdoor adventure stuff. You have activities and things like that here in town, right?”

  “Sure.” He nods. “Grady and me run mountain-biking trips, when there are any people around. And we have a bunch of kayaks and fishing equipment. But it’s hardly a full-service alpine adventure center. With valets.”

  “True.” I want to linger a while more and chat with Ethan, but Grady slouches back in and takes up residence behind the counter again. He gives me an impatient look.

  “Got everything?”

  I look down at the collection of heavy bags at my feet. “Yes.” I ignore his tone. “Thanks, Ethan.”

  Thanks for the only five minutes of friendly conversation I’ve had since arriving in this town.

  I can’t help but worry as I drive back to the house — keeping a careful eye out for stray moose this time. My godmother is notorious for leaping into new and exciting projects without paying much attention to details, but what happens when the B and B opens its freshly painted doors to find . . . no guests?

  I find Susie in one of the downstairs rooms, wearing her paint-stained overalls and a bright pink scarf in her hair.

  “Find everything?” she asks, scraping uselessly at the wallpaper with a blunt knife edge.

  “Almost.” I put down the first box and rummage around for a shiny new tool. “This should make things easier.”

  “Oh, thanks!” She sets to work with the scraper and right away, a whole strip of hideous 1970s oran
ge-print paper peels clean off the wall. “Want to try? It’s fun. Like peeling off dead skin when you get a sunburn, you know?”

  “Sure.” I take another tool and set to work on the other wall. She’s right: the process is strangely satisfying. “So, the B and B . . .” I rip a long piece away. “Do you think it’ll be a hit?”

  “For sure!” Susie beams, wiping a damp curl of hair out of her eyes. “The setting is perfect, and this house has so much potential.” She gathers a great heap of wallpaper and piles it into a black garbage bag. I look around. There are three more bags over by the door, and industrial cleaning containers scattered across the floor.

  “Have you thought about the environmental impact of all this construction?” I ask, taking a break from the stripper. “Because there’s always a risk you could disrupt the wildlife with all the noise, and —” I stop, struck by a sudden genius idea. “Ooh! You could make the whole place eco-friendly! With solar panels, and composting in the yard, and only earth-friendly, salvaged material.” I look over, eager. “I read about these new homes out near Long Island that are totally self-sufficient — they only use what energy they get from the sun, and the whole development is built out of —”

  “Whoa, Jenna!” Susie stops me, laughing.

  “Sorry.” I pause sheepishly. “I can get carried away. But what do you think of the idea?” I look at her expectantly. “It could be a real selling point for the place. Ecotourism is supposed to be getting really big — people going out to stay in rain-forest huts and stuff. You could be the Canadian version!”

  “I think we’ve got enough on our hands just getting this place habitable in time.” Susie goes back to work.

  “But it could be a real draw. I mean, that Blue Ridge place is selling luxury, so this would be a whole different angle.” I can already think of half a dozen ways to make the B and B an eco-paradise. It’s just what Olivia was talking about: my perfect summer project!

  “Jenna . . .”

  “And it wouldn’t even be much work! I mean, much extra. You’re in such early stages here, you could easily switch to new plans.” I beam happily. Helping out would be the perfect way to repay Susie for having me stay, plus it would totally make up for the carbon damage of my flight and all this driving.