Bad Call

by Stephen Wallenfels

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s the game you duped us into Cannabis Cove.”

  “There was no duping involved. Anyway, I’m talking before that.”

  Before the poker game gets into darker times. He could be talking about the challenge match and the cascading storm of shit that followed. I don’t see how or why. I’ve been moving past those days, and I thought he was, too. Maybe I’m wrong.

  “So this is about me?”

  “You and me,” he says, throwing another rock. “And Ellie.”

  My body stiffens. It’s as if he threw that rock at my gut.

  “What about her?”

  “The kittens are in the blender, Q. If I tell you, that means I’m pushing the button.”

  “Push away.”

  “All right,” and he fixes his gaze on a distance we can no longer see. “A couple months ago I was at this thing, and I met a girl.”

  “Here you go with this thing again. What is it this time?”

  “Not important. Anyway, I met a girl. I wasn’t into her then, at least not a lot. But I thought she might be a good fit for a good friend, so the more I got to know her, the more I thought, yeah, she would be a good fit for this friend. But as luck would have it, this friend was on the other side of the country, so I couldn’t do much about it.”

  Ceo pauses. I feel him looking at me, as if I might have words to say.

  I do. But I choose different words. “Go on.”

  He says, “So the friend returns from that state. I still want him to meet this perfect-match girl, so I look her up on the Internet, and as luck would have it, she’s going to be at a different event in another town not too far away. I know my friend will never meet her on his own and he’s too stubborn to be set up. So I create a reason to go to that town and invite him along.”

  Another pause.

  I fill it. “The event is a soccer tournament. And the town is San Clemente.”

  “Good. You know the friend I’m talking about. It takes some convincing plus a little help from a seagull and a sandwich, but he says yes. I’m thinking this will be so freaking sweet. They’ll get married, have babies, name the first one Ceo, and we’ll be friends forever. But unfortunately on that very same day we have a mishap. I do something stupid, lose my shit at a challenge match, and that night he sends me a three-word text.”

  “‘Fuck San Clemente.’”

  “Very un-Colin.”

  I take a deep breath. The cloud has reached us now. It’s so thick and cold it hurts my lungs. But the pain actually feels good. It distracts from the other pain.

  Ceo says, “Now, more than ever, I want my friend to meet this girl. I know he’d rather light his hair on fire than let me hook him up, especially since the mishap. But desperate times, desperate measures, right? So I go to plan B. I put this whole camping trip together thinking that if I pull this off, man, I can undo that mishap and make things right.”

  Mishap?

  Make things right?

  It takes a moment for the crushing weight of this news to hit. When it does, I nearly buckle from the impact. I say through clenched teeth, “Define whole trip.”

  He starts talking, and I feel rage boiling up as numbness sinks in. He says he knew I wouldn’t go on the trip if it was just him and me and Ellie. He came up with the Cannabis Cove idea, knowing that would guarantee buy-ins from Grahame and Rhody. Then he actually paid Rhody fifty bucks to back out of the trip to make room for Ellie. Rhody was all over that because he was a little nervous about Coach finding out. Ceo says he chose Cannabis Cove because he knows if he was getting high with Grahame, I would have plenty of bonding time with Ellie. But Cannabis Cove went up in smoke. Then he picked the Snow Creek Trail and talked Grahame into a race that nearly killed us both by the way, so I could have that private time with Ellie. When he’s finally done, he says, “So there you have it, kittens in a blender.”

  There’s movement a little to my left and behind me. A shadow shifting in the gray. I take a quick glance, but the fog is so thick that I can’t see beyond the next rock. I refocus on Ceo, thinking we need to get back to Ellie. But he’s rolling now, and I’m in too deep to make him stop.

  I ask, “Did Grahame know about any of this?”

  “Negative. Just Rhody.”

  “Does he know now?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think?”

  “That’s where we had our recent problem. He started telling me how he was going to give Ellie some free tennis lessons, take her out, see if he can score. I told him that wasn’t going to happen in this lifetime, or the next three after that. He said what the hell do you care, you haven’t spent a single minute alone with her other than last night. Then he said an dat puts her een da fookin’ play, chief, don’t cha know. That’s what led to me burning the Benjamin. Freaking dumb-ass Bob Marley wannabe from freaking Minnesota.”

  This is way beyond what I can take. Grahame thinks he’s free to make moves on Ellie. He’s pissed at Ceo even more than normal, and now he’s gone rogue. Ellie has no idea about any of this. I replay the hug he gave her this morning, his massive arms trapping her, lifting her off her feet like a toy. I say, “I’ve heard enough. We need to get back,” and start to turn.

  He grabs my arm. “Not yet, Q. The kittens are in the blender. But I haven’t pushed the button.”

  I freeze. However far I thought we had gone down this road, he’s about to go further.

  “What else is there?” I say.

  “I’ve been keeping my distance from Ellie. It’s been hard, but that’s what I did. You remember back at the overlook when that lady was taking a picture, and I switched places? That was me putting her next to you. Then I left you alone at the fire last night. I gave you all the opportunities I could to make it work.” He trails off, leaving make it work out there like a bomb with a burning fuse. “Since you didn’t take advantage, I let her in, man. I let her in. Now the thing is…I don’t want her out.”

  “Take advantage? Are you serious?”

  “You know I am.”

  “Like, here’s my queen, you can take her with your knight?”

  “I don’t play chess.”

  “Bullshit. You do it with people. All the fucking time.”

  He looks at me, his eyes narrowing.

  “She’s a real person, Ceo. She’s not a commodity. Not a prize, not a trophy. She’s not something you trade or give away.”

  “I know. I know. The problem is I’m falling for her. Hard. Something happened in the tent this morning.”

  Something happened? It’s like he knocked me down and stepped on my throat. I’m shaking. What little control I have is slipping away. I start to back up, to get out of arm’s reach, afraid of what I might do.

  Ceo says, “I’m sorry, Q.”

  “You’re sorry? Like you were sorry after the match?”

  “It was the truth then. And it’s the truth now.”

  “Your truth is like this fucking fog. I can see it, smell it. But when I try to actually hold on to it—POOF! Nothing’s there!” I realize that I’m yelling. I take a breath, lower my voice. “So stop saying the S word, okay? I don’t want to hear it.”

  He stares at me. Then his eyes go wide. “Holy shit! You’re into her.”

  I just stand there, motionless in the fog.

  “Tell me I’m wrong, Q. Tell me you’re not.”

  “I…I can’t do that.”

  He smiles, shakes his head. “Dude, I told you they were in the blender.”

  “Yeah. At least that much was the truth.”

  “So now what?”

  “You have to tell her. Everything.”

  “I’ll do it at the airport.”

  “Sooner.”

  “All right. On the switchbacks going down. What about Grahame?”

  “You’ve got him spun up enough already. If he finds out that you played him just to set me up with Ellie…” I shake my head at the grim prospects of that revelation. “You’d be better off facing
the bear.”

  “Nah, I can handle him. But hopefully, he’s already on his way down, because if he touches her—”

  From over the summit and out of the fog.

  Ellie screams.

  We turn to run—and can’t. Visibility is down to less than thirty feet. We stayed too long. Shit. I take two steps, slip, and fall to the ground. The rock against my hands, even through the gloves, is cold and dark and smoother than it looks. The fog is starting to freeze. Ceo’s hiking boots have better traction than my worthless sneakers. I tell him I’m all right, GO! GO! GO!

  He takes off like a shot and disappears in a swirl of gray. I struggle to my feet and start walking in what feels like a straight line, hoping to intersect the trail leading to the summit. I figure as long as I keep moving up, I’ll be all right. Ellie only screamed once. She hasn’t answered any of Ceo’s calls, and I haven’t heard anything from him for at least a minute. The fear of getting lost in this soup and walking off a cliff is real and paralyzing.

  I come to a spot with a distinctive white seam in the granite that I remember being just below the summit. I turn a few degrees to the left and continue moving up. Another fifty feet in that direction and I see dark shapes on the ground that resolve into our packs. By the time I reach them I hear voices from below, moving toward me.

  One of them says, “The hell have you been?”

  The other says, “Ah been lost in dee clouds, mon.”

  The third says, “Next time you do that to me I’ll stab you in the eye with my spork.”

  We take a few minutes to debate our options. It’s a short list. We can hike down now or wait for the cloud to move. The problem is we don’t know if this is an isolated cloud or a blanket. A little wind would help. The air is so still that when Ceo drops a couple pine needles, they fall straight to the ground. Not much chance of the cloud moving in these conditions. Grahame says the risk of the ice getting worse isn’t as bad as the fear of becoming lost and doing an accidental cliff dive. He says it almost happened to him twice already.

  Ceo argues that this is one of the easiest descents off a mountain ever and that we should head down now before the ice gets worse. That if we can just get a little lower maybe we’ll be out of this shit and can reach the valley before the weather turns. He reminds us that if the weather does turn, this shelterless summit will make last night’s storm look like a blow-dryer on an elephant’s ass. That isn’t enough to convince the rest of us, especially Ellie. She’s still shaking from whatever happened while we were gone. Combine that with the two falls I took getting to this point, and I’m all over the sit-and-wait option. Give it an hour and reevaluate.

  The vote is three to one.

  We sit on our packs and wait.

  Ellie helps distract us from the cold seeping through and in by describing what happened. How when the cloud showed up she became disoriented and was afraid to move. She says that kind of thing had never happened to her before. That she knew which way to go, which way the summit was, but without a horizon and the cliffs so close, it’s like the world in her head just disappeared and no matter which way she went it would send her tumbling down and down and down.

  “So I stood there,” she says, “shivering, getting more and more disoriented, waiting for you guys to come back. But you didn’t come back.” Ellie looks at me and Ceo, eyes flaring under her hat.

  “Sorry we took so long,” I say.

  “We weren’t paying attention,” Ceo says. “It snuck up on us.”

  “Did you finish your calibrating at least?” Ellie asks.

  I look at my hands.

  “We got a good start,” Ceo says. “But I think it’s still broken.”

  Grahame leans in, saying, “What’s this about calibrating?”

  “Let me finish my story first,” Ellie says. “I’m getting to the best part. So anyway, there I am, alone in a death cloud. Then I hear a sound, a kind of grunt off to my right—”

  “Which was me nearly falling on my ass,” Grahame says.

  “So I turn to see what it is—and this huge bear-shaped thing emerges out of the mist. I can’t run. I’m afraid to move. So I yell at it.”

  “Which scared the holy crap out of me,” Grahame says.

  “Well, don’t sneak up on people when there are bears about!”

  “How can I sneak up on something that I can’t see?”

  “If I can see you, then you can see me.”

  There’s a little heat to those words. It silences Grahame, but only for a moment. Then he nods to her and says, “Tell them about the rock.”

  “I picked up a rock and threw it.”

  “Meanwhile,” Grahame says, “this alleged bear-shaped thing that happens to walk on two feet, carry a backpack, and speak English is telling her to calm down, it’s just me. And she hits me with a freaking rock.” He rubs his shoulder. “Goalie girl’s got an arm on her. I bet there’s a bruise.”

  “That was an impressive throw,” I say to Ellie.

  “Not really. I was aiming at his head.”

  Ceo says, “In that case, your throw sucked. Because I’m wondering how you could miss a target that big.”

  “And I’m wondering,” Grahame says, leveling his eyes at Ceo, “why you left Ellie as bear bait.”

  After a beat, “We were calibrating the GPS.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s hung up.”

  “And it takes two of you?” This time looking at me.

  “Apparently,” I say.

  Grahame refocuses on Ceo. “Well, chief. Here’s my take on that. I don’t think it’s possible to calibrate a GPS. And even if it is, you don’t have the skills to calibrate a freaking sock puppet.”

  A slow smile spreads across Ceo’s face. He takes the GPS out of his pocket, stands up, and walks over to Grahame. Hands it to him and asks, “What does it say, mon?”

  “It’s searching.”

  “What’s the elevation?”

  “Sixty-two five.”

  “Do you know what elevation we’re at?”

  “Over seven?”

  “More like over eight. Let me see it.”

  Grahame returns the GPS.

  Ceo holds it out and rotates slowly while studying the display. He does a complete 360, plus a little more. Then he stops, gives Ellie a look, winds up, and hurls it into the fog.

  I don’t hear it land.

  After a stunned beat, Grahame says, “What the hell, chief?”

  Ceo says without the trace of a smile, “That’s how I calibrate sock puppets. Any questions?”

  Grahame raises his hand. “Please tell me you brought a compass.”

  Ceo laughs. “Why would I do that if I have a freaking GPS?”

  He waits a few seconds, then starts walking down from the summit.

  Grahame shouts at his back, “Hey, asswipe! What’s the freaking plan now?”

  “I’m going to find us a way out of this cloud.”

  Grahame coughs and says, “Someone’s boyfriend has serious anger issues. He needs a better therapist.”

  Ellie says, “Not my boyfriend.”

  “Then what is he?”

  She senses a shift in his tone. Something darker. “We’ve done this already.”

  “Well, whatever therapy he got last night didn’t work.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I’m just saying you’re a really good goalie, and he’s used to scoring. A man in his deprived state should not be making life-or-death decisions.”

  Ellie fights the urge to walk five feet and punch him. It’s a battle she’s seconds from losing.

  Colin says, “Grahame. You need to stop talking.”

  “You think I’m wrong?”

  “Seriously. Stop talking.”

  “Not until I know what your problem is.”

  “All right. I think that what you said is offensive.”

  “Really? Considering that we’re on top of a mountain in a freezing death cloud with no GPS, do y
ou really think Ceo should be calling the shots?”

  “I think you should apologize to Ellie.”

  “Ah, so dat’s dee important ting to you, eh, mon?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Being a dick. I mean, more than normal.”

  He smiles. “I’ve got reasons. But you made a good point.” Back to Ellie, he says, “I apologize if what I said offended you.”

  And there it is again. The change in tone. It reminds her of Grahame on the bus, when his hand covered hers and he wouldn’t let go. She says, “It did offend me, which makes the qualifier if invalid. I reject your insincere apology.”

  “See that, Q?” Grahame says. “That’s why she’s so awesome. Unlike you, she just doesn’t take any shit.” He stands, walks over to her, and says looking down, “What I said was inappropriate. I apologize for being a dick.”

  Ellie says, “The dick part I believe. Not the rest of it.”

  “Well, that’s a start. But I stand by my original deal. Ceo is making some bad calls. The problem is you guys keep lining up at the trough.” He starts pacing back and forth despite the ice, stirring wisps of gray in his wake. This movement could be to keep warm, she thinks, or nerves.

  Colin says, “We’ve made our decisions as a group.”

  “Oh, really? Whose idea was it to tell Coach that we’d be playing in a tournament in San Diego? And did we decide as a group to not fill out a wilderness permit? Now look at us. Do you think anyone else knows we’re even up here?”

  Colin hesitates. “Rhody knows.”

  Grahame laughs. “Rhody? He thinks we’re at Cannabis Cove, which by the way doesn’t even exist!” He says to Ellie, “You’ve been texting a lot. Did you tell anyone we’re up here?”

  She shakes her head, says after a steadying beat, “I told everyone I would be at Pepperdine this weekend. I even had a friend post pictures of me at the school on Instagram and Facebook. She’s the only person that knows I’m in Yosemite, but she doesn’t know where.”

  Colin looks at her, stunned. “You lied to your parents?”

  She nods.

  He says, “Well. We talked to that navy guy on the way up. At least someone knows we’re here. We’ll be okay.”

  “But you told them we’d be doing the Yosemite Falls trail,” she says. “Or maybe North Dome. Or going to those lakes. You pretty much told them we’d be going everywhere but here.”