Boys, Bears, and A Serious Pair of Hiking Boots

by Abby McDonald

  “Oh, well, maybe just a minute.” The woman smiles for the first time and follows him toward those famous brownies.

  I turn to Olivia.

  “What?” she mumbles, sullen. “They were going to cut that tree down. What was I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know. How about nothing?” I stare at her in amazement. She actually called the cops on them — or, according to the truck, the Graystone Valley Environmental Protection Agency. I blink, lost for words for a moment.

  “I can’t believe you!” I exclaim finally. “They fixed things with your parents, and let you stay, and have been so freaking nice to you! This is really how you repay them? By trying to screw up their big opening day, after so much work?”

  But Olivia doesn’t seem to care. She shrugs, as if nothing I’ve said even matters. “They shouldn’t be cutting it down. And if you were a good Green Teen, you would have called it in weeks ago.”

  I sag back against the truck and look at her, numb. It’s dark out now, shadows looming, and the distance between us I’ve been trying so hard to ignore can’t be denied. It’s different now. No matter how much I want to convince myself that she’ll come around, or go back to the way she used to be, Olivia isn’t the person I’ve known all these years.

  And maybe I’m not, either.

  “These people are like family to me.” I try to make her see, one last time. “I don’t understand how you can do something like this.”

  “You can’t be on their side!” she protests. “You know that what they’re doing is wrong.”

  “Wrong?” I blink. “Livvy, it’s not like they’re paving over a couple of acres or — or killing baby seals. It’s one tree! And don’t you think they’ve thought it through — checked how much damage it’ll do, or if there’s anything nesting there? Come on, Livvy, not everyone in the world is part of your freaking capitalist conspiracy!”

  “I should have known you’d be like this.” Olivia’s face becomes tight. “Cash said you weren’t committed to —”

  “Will you just shut up about Cash?” I finally lose all patience. “Do you have a single original thought left, or has he brainwashed you completely?”

  “Brainwashed!” Olivia yells back. “You think this is all because of him? That I don’t believe in fighting for what’s right?”

  “But it’s not right, is it?” I shake my head at her, amazed at how completely she’s missing the point. I’ve kept quiet for days — out of confusion, and fear that I’ve lost her completely. But it’s done. Her summer has taken her to the extreme of our environmentalism, just as I’ve realized the other side to my beliefs: compromise and priorities.

  “You think waving a placard around and getting arrested will achieve anything at all, besides screwing up your life? God, Olivia, it would be one thing if any of that stuff works, but it doesn’t. It’s not the way to get things done!”

  “And what is the right way?” She glares at me, her features screwed up in a mean expression that I never thought I’d see. “You’ve abandoned everything we believe in to fit in here. You should see how pathetic you look, falling over yourself for Reeve. Or maybe you don’t care!” She gives a snort. “As long as these hicks like you. God, Jenna and her perfect Stillwater gang, what a fucking joke.”

  “Don’t start on them,” I warn her, nails digging deep in my palms.

  “Why not?” she cries. “They’re the reason you’re being such a bitch, isn’t it? You think Cash has brainwashed me, but what about you, huh? What about killing innocent creatures with your precious gay best friend, Ethan?”

  There’s a sudden noise behind her, and we both spin around. Standing on the front porch, staring at us in horror, is Ethan.

  And Fiona. And Grady.

  “What the hell?” Grady reels back. He blinks, turning slowly from us to his brother. “What’s she talking about?”

  Ethan is frozen, eyes wide.

  “Nothing!” I say quickly, trying to cover. “She’s just kidding around.”

  “I’m not,” Olivia announces. She stalks up the front steps and sneers at Ethan. “Whoopsie, looks like your secret is out. Ha, out. Funny.” With a mean little smile, she pushes past them and disappears inside, leaving us alone under the glow of the porch lights.

  There’s a long silence, filled by the noise and laughter from the backyard. It’s late, and they’re all getting drunk on punch and ice-box beers. There’s nobody to hear us here.

  “Dude.” Grady tugs Ethan’s sleeve. “She’s talking trash, right? Right?”

  Ethan still hasn’t moved.

  “Come on, Grady.” Fiona tries to lead him away. “We were going to get more pie.”

  He shakes her off. “I don’t want pie. I want you to tell me she’s full of crap.” He stares at Ethan, imploring.

  Ethan doesn’t say a word.

  “No, man . . .” Grady backs away from him, shaking his head. “No way!”

  “Grady —” Ethan tries to reach after him, but Grady angrily shoves him back. “Don’t you touch me! Don’t you dare touch me!”

  Ethan stumbles back, useless. His face is stricken. Grady makes as if to lunge at him, but Fiona physically drags him back as I rush forward, planting myself between the boys. “Grady, stop!”

  “Ethan? Ethan, it’s going to be OK,” I tell him, desperate. He won’t look at me.

  “You freak!” Grady yells, lunging again. He sends a wicker chair clattering to the ground and knocks me into Ethan. We both fall, hard, against the porch swing before Fiona clutches a handful of Grady’s shirt and yanks, choking him.

  “Calm down!” she screams at him. He suddenly sags, limp in her arms, and with all her strength, she bundles him into the house. The screen door slams.

  I turn to Ethan, gripping his arms. “Are you OK?” I’m shaking, but it’s not from the fight or Grady’s harsh words. No, right now I’m sick to my stomach with the awful, twisted knowledge that this is all my fault.

  All. My. Fault.

  Finally, Ethan looks at me. His eyes are watery, but he swipes his tears away with the back of his plaid sleeve. “Don’t touch me,” he says, quiet and fierce.

  “But I —”

  “Don’t!” he yells, snatching away from me. “It’s over. Don’t you get that? Everything, it’s all over!” His face crumples, distraught. Backing away, he knocks into the fallen chair, but doesn’t stop, just takes off, sprinting into the dark.

  Into the forest.

  “Where’s Ethan?” Fiona hurries out about fifteen minutes later. I’m slumped on the front steps, my head in my hands. “Grady’s locked himself in my room upstairs; he won’t talk to me.”

  “Oh, God.” I sniffle, trying to smear away my tears. “Ethan took off, out there somewhere.” I nod at the dark shadows, looming out of range of the pools of light from the house. “I didn’t know if I should go after him. Fi, the way he looked at me . . .” I choke back another sob. I can’t believe this is happening — that I made this happen. He trusted me, and I’ve screwed up everything.

  “What do we do?” She blinks at me, eyes wide with worry. “I could get Susie. And I think the guys’ mom is here . . .”

  “No!” I stop her, remembering what Ethan told me. “Not their parents. Not yet. We’ve got to do this ourselves.”

  “But do what?”

  Think, Jenna!

  Trying desperately to pull myself back together, I take a breath. “OK. Nobody’s noticed anything yet, thank God. So, you go find Reeve. Tell him what happened, get him to talk to Grady.”

  “But . . . should we be spreading this around?” Fiona pauses.

  “This isn’t spreading anything,” I say, already getting to my feet. “Grady won’t listen to us. He needs someone . . . someone to talk some sense into him. I’ll go after Ethan.”

  “Out there?” Fiona looks past me at the forest. She shivers. “Shouldn’t you at least get a flashlight or something?”

  “There’s no time for that,” I argue. “And what if
we get grabbed by an adult inside? No, I’ll be fine.”

  She wavers for a moment and then launches herself at me in a hug. I stumble, surprised.

  “I’m scared,” Fiona admits, clutching me. “You should have seen Grady . . . I’ve never seen him like this.”

  “Me either, and Ethan . . .” I swallow. “Come on, we’ll make this OK. We have to.”

  She nods, collecting herself. “Good luck out there.”

  “You too.” I manage a weak grin. And then she’s gone again, and I start walking slowly away from the house, toward the dark forest.

  It’s cooler now, and my thin summer dress and sandals are no match for the scrape of tree branches and tangle of tree roots underfoot. Bracing myself, I find the entrance to the path by the road and plunge into the darkness. The trees loom close around me, and even though I’ve walked this path dozens of times this summer, I can’t help but remember the last time I was here in the dark, alone. That first night in Stillwater, I was paralyzed by fear, but this time, I have no choice but to keep moving, stumbling over the dark path as I clutch my arms tight around me and try not to jump at every noise. The trees rustle around me, and every few seconds there’s a new sound — a bird calling, a mysterious clatter or high-pitched animal call. I gulp, forcing myself onward. I need to find Ethan.

  After what feels like forever, I reach the lake. It’s lighter here, the moon reflecting off the black water, but still, the valley rises up in huge dark swathes on every side.

  “Ethan?” I call, nervous. Part of me still wonders if something’s lurking in the trees, but I clear my throat and call again, louder. “It’s me. Jenna.”

  There’s no reply, but as I edge farther into the open, I see a hunched figure, far down the shore. I hurry toward him.

  “Ethan?” I call again, panicked. He’s sitting in the lake, legs stretched in front of him. Water gently laps around him, soaking his jeans and the bottom of his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “What are you doing?” I kick off my sandals and wade out. It’s ice-cold, pebbles sharp against my skin. “Ethan, you’re getting soaked.”

  He stays there, staring out at the dark.

  “Ethan, come on back to shore at least.” I shiver, placing one hand gently on his shoulder. He turns his head a little, like he’s only just noticed me. “Come on,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and comforting. “Let’s get out of the water.”

  He tilts his head forward a moment and then struggles to his feet. He stays there, looking out at the lake, and for a terrible moment, I think he’s going to walk right out into deep water. Then, to my relief, he turns and follows me back, splashing the few paces to shore.

  We sink down on the grass, and I wait, anxious. “I’m sorry, Ethan. God, I’m so sorry!” The words come tumbling out in a frantic rush. “I told her, but I never thought she’d show up here, or be . . . such a bitch!” I swallow, a sharp pain inside as I think about what I’ve done to him. “But that’s no excuse, I know. I made you a promise.”

  Ethan is motionless as the minutes slip by. I begin to worry that he’s gone into some kind of shock: the real kind, from the trauma of his fight with Grady, and the fact that his whole life is splitting apart. But then, finally, he lets out a long sigh.

  “It’s OK,” he says quietly.

  “It’s not!” I cry. “Ethan, how can you say that?”

  “What else am I going to do?” He turns to me, and for a moment I think he’s completely defeated, but then I see something else in his expression. The moonlight is shadowed on his face, but I think there’s something . . . almost calm. “It’s done. It’s out now. I’m out,” he adds with a bitter laugh. “It was always going to happen eventually.”

  “But not like this!” My voice sticks. He pats my shoulder — a faint, small gesture.

  “It’s done,” he says again, resigned.

  There’s more silence.

  “So, what . . . what happens now?” I still feel wretched. “Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?”

  He shakes his head slowly. “I guess I just have to hope Grady comes around. Eventually. And doesn’t tell my parents.” He pauses. “God, my parents.”

  I reach over and take his hand, squeezing it fiercely. “You’re going to be OK. And I hate it, that it’s like this for you, but . . . you’ll get through it.” I hope to God that it’s true. If only he were in a larger town, or even back in New Jersey. It would be hard there, sure, but there wouldn’t be this same spectacle. He wouldn’t be going through this alone.

  A cloud drifts over the moon, and for a second, we’re in the dark again: a thick blackness all around that I can almost touch. The lake swells against the shore with a low swoosh of sound, rhythmic and calming. It would be beautiful if the ugly fight from before wasn’t lingering over us both.

  “You want to know the weird thing?” Ethan asks, turning to me. His dark hair falls, messy over his eyes. “Before, when Olivia said what she did, I was standing there, and all I could feel was . . . relief. Like, it was finally out of my hands.” He swallows, bringing his legs up against his chest. “All this time, I’ve been trying so hard to keep it secret. To stop everything from changing.”

  I sigh. “But you can’t.”

  “Nope.”

  There’s a pause. “Maybe this is good,” Ethan says, as if he’s trying to convince himself. “Maybe now I can figure out what comes next. How to be this guy.”

  “You’re still you,” I insist. I wish I could be around to support him through this. “What was it you said to me? That you didn’t want this one part defining who you are. You’re not just gay.”

  “I know.” He gives me a weak smile. “But people, they don’t see it like that.”

  “They should,” I say fiercely, but something suddenly catches in my chest. Here I am, swearing that Ethan is more than his sexuality, when I’ve been doing the same thing. Or rather, the opposite. My environmentalism, the Green Teens — I threw myself into them to fill this space in me. I wanted to quiet the loneliness, and have some kind of power when life seemed totally out of my control, but without noticing, they became almost everything to me.

  That’s why Olivia changing has been such a shock, I realize, and why I’ve been so reluctant to see anyone else’s point of view. Because if all I am is a Green Teen, what happens when I start questioning our ideals? What will life be like back in New Jersey without Olivia, or my old group, and all that purpose and direction I felt?

  Ethan is quiet beside me, lost in his own troubles as I gaze out at the dark lake, thinking back to the meetings, the protests, all those hours I would spend writing letters and handing out pamphlets . . . It made me feel safer, as if I could make some small difference in this vast, scary planet. But for all that effort and energy, I’ve discovered that things aren’t as simple as I thought. The slogans I chanted and the banners I waved don’t even come close to addressing the real problems facing the world. The real answers are shades of gray, layered with compromise and priorities I can’t even begin to grasp. I want to understand, but I know now that I’m not going to find any of those hard truths just cheerleading recycling drives or waving signs around at construction sites as if that’s all it will take to make things better. It’s a start, but there’s so much more.

  I let out a long breath. Ethan’s right; my worries may not be as life-changing as his, but it’s a relief to have the truth suddenly laid out in front of you. I’ve been clinging to my Green Teen identity to give me someplace to fit. But I’m more than that. And so is he.

  “It’ll be OK,” I tell him, and for the first time, I believe it for myself. “You’ll figure it out.”

  He gives a dry laugh. “I guess there’s no avoiding it. Avoiding anything.”

  We watch the water awhile, fingers laced together on the dew-damp ground. Then voices sound, back near the trees. We turn.

  “Thank God!” Fiona hurtles toward us, lit up by the thin beam of a pocket flashlight. She’s pulled on a light jacket,
her hair falling out of its thin ponytail. “We’ve been looking for you forever!”

  We?

  Reeve emerges out of the shadows behind her. With Grady. He’s looking down, scuffing his sneakers on the ground, but he’s here.

  I rise to my feet, anxious.

  “It’s OK.” Fiona shoots a look back at Grady. “He’s calmed down. There won’t be any . . . any scenes. Right?” She thwacks his stomach. He nods reluctantly.

  “Should we . . . ?” I look back at Ethan. He hasn’t moved from his spot, but his face is even.

  “Let’s get back,” Fiona decides, shivering. “We can cover for a few people, but they’ll notice all of us missing soon.”

  I nod. This must mean Grady didn’t tell. And if he hasn’t told . . .

  “You’ll be OK?” I ask Ethan quietly, bending down.

  He gives me a smile. “I’ll live.”

  “No more late-night swims, you hear me?” I try to joke, but my fear must show, because suddenly, he reaches up and hugs me. I grip him tightly, but a second later, he pulls back.

  “I’m good.” He nods, trying to sound brusque. “You’d better go. Don’t want them sending out a search party.”

  I edge away, leaving him curled up there on the shore, Grady lingering a few awkward paces behind him.

  “Grady’s really calmed down?” I ask Fiona, glancing back.

  “I beat some sense into him. It was just shock, I think. I mean, they’re brothers. He didn’t even know . . .” She trails off. “But he’s good now. He’ll make it right.”

  I exhale, a weight lifting from me.

  “You OK?” Reeve falls into step beside me as we make our way back into the forest. I blink. I must have registered his presence before, but this is the first time I notice him, looking at me with clear concern.

  I nod. “You need to watch out for him,” I tell Reeve. “All of you. He’s going to need you guys.” Again, I feel a pang that I won’t be around. IM and cell phones only count for so much.