Friction Read online

  I just pull my head away and turn up the radio.

  * * *

  We get to Storm Mountain right before dark. It’s a new camping spot we’ve never tried, about halfway to the top of the highest peak. Thick trees cover the whole mountain in all shades of green and brown, and the shining spaces of small creeks sparkle above and below us. Vines dripping with bunches of purple flowers are strung all over the trees and make a perfume smell in unexpected places, like stray patches of warm water in a cool lake.

  “Let’s put the mansion up here,” I say to Tim and Sebastian. We’re standing on a lopsided square of level ground.

  Some of the parents, like Marie’s, don’t like girls and boys sharing the same tent. But most of them don’t think it’s a big deal as long as Simon doesn’t care, and he doesn’t. So a bunch of us always sleep in Sebastian’s tent, which got nicknamed “the mansion” last year because it sleeps four adult-size people, easy, plus a kid can stand up in it. But it’s kind of old and hard to set up. Last year it took Simon almost an hour.

  Now Teddy’s dad is lifting it out of Simon’s car. “You kids need help with this?”

  Simon shows up right as we’re pounding in the last stake and brushing out the inside. He’s got a big shovel and a grin. He claps his hands twice to get everybody’s attention.

  “Latrine information!” he calls.

  “La-what?” Stacy goes.

  “Toilets,” Sophie tells her.

  “See those trees there in the middle of that clearing?” Simon asks. “With all the daffodils about to bloom underneath?” I look to where he’s pointing. There’s a small clearing about a half a soccer field away from us that’s got three tall evergreens in a tight triangle and sprinkles of yellow buds all around. “In there,” Simon says, “are two pits.”

  “Pits!” Stacy moans. “We have to go in pits?”

  “Bring leaves with you.” Simon laughs. “And make sure they’re not poison ivy.”

  “He’s kidding, right?” Stacy asks. Then she pushes me with her shoulder. “I bet Simon’s going to—,” she starts, and I interrupt her fast.

  “Let’s help with the fire,” I say to Tim. “I’m starved.”

  It takes a while, but as soon as the flames get going, we throw our tinfoil-wrapped potatoes and chopped vegetables into a portion of the fire Simon sectioned off just for cooking. And not too much later Simon puts me in charge of the marshmallows. I pass them out, making sure nobody gets any more than anyone else, and Marie shows Stacy all the different toasting techniques.

  “You never did this in Girl Scouts or anything?” Marie asks Stacy.

  “I wouldn’t be caught dead in the Girl Scouts,” Stacy goes. “But that’s just me.” Then she offers Marie her stick, which is the best one because it’s really long, and pointed at one end.

  I always set my marshmallows on fire. Then I wave them in the air to put out the flame, and when I have little popping bubbles and a black skin on a swollen lump, it’s cooked just perfect. The taste of ash combined with sugar is the best, even when Simon warns me its carcinogenic that way.

  “Carcino-what?” Danny goes.

  “Causes cancer,” Teddy says.

  Tim toasts his marshmallows to a golden brown. He stands over the fire, rotating his stick as steady and patient as Simon pulls out splinters.

  “I like the sparks,” I tell Tim, waiting with him by the fading flames as he finishes his last one.

  “Yeah,” he says, looking up at the night. “They kind of look like that, don’t they?” I look up too. Silvery stars are sprinkled all over the wide sky, like mica chips on a new blacktop. They’re whiter than the orange sparks that crackle and snap into nothingness right in front of us, but still, I know what Tim means.

  “Uh-huh,” I go. “And if you stare at one for too long, it disappears.”

  9

  STACY COMES BACK from the toilet pits and sees Sebastian stretched out right in front of the mansion’s entrance flap. I was hoping she’d want to sleep in someone else’s tent, but Sebastian asked her to help put up the mansion, which she did, flashing her tongue ring at me once, and all the other tents are spoken for.

  “Swap with me,” she orders Sebastian now. Her sleeping bag is balled up at the edge of the tent, next to Sophie’s.

  “I’m already in,” Sebastian goes.

  “Don’t be a pain. Swap places.”

  “You’re being the pain,” Sebastian goes. Tim kicks me, soft. In the dimness of all our flashlights he rolls his eyes. I kick him back and roll mine too.

  “Sleep over here,” Sophie goes.

  “I can’t,” Stacy goes. “I have to be by the door.”

  “It’s a tent,” Sebastian goes. “There isn’t any door.”

  “The entrance, then,” Stacy says. “Whatever. I have to face it. Come on. Get up.”

  “Spaz down,” Sebastian tells her. “I’m not moving.”

  Stacy starts pushing at Sebastian. “I have to face the entrance!” She sounds serious. Her voice is all high pitched. Squeaky almost. “Sebastian!” She’s sort of screaming. “Move!”

  “Why do you have to face the entrance?” Sophie asks.

  “Because!” Stacy’s hair is all messed up and in her face.

  “Move, Sebastian,” Sophie says, sort of quiet. She reminds me of Viv sometimes, how she’s always so mellow. Reasonable, my mother would say.

  “Yeah,” Tim goes. “Just move.” So Sebastian does. It takes a while. Stacy waits, quiet, not looking at anyone. When Sebastian’s finally out of the way, Stacy takes a long time setting herself up. She puts her feet right at the entrance and slides her flashlight inside her sleeping bag. Maybe she’s afraid of bears or something. Not that where you sleep would matter in the end anyway, if a bear broke in.

  “Maniac,” Sebastian mumbles. But he doesn’t really sound that mad.

  “Shut up.” Stacy’s voice is back to normal.

  “I’m challenged.” Sebastian fakes sounding all hurt. “You’re not allowed to tell me to shut up.”

  “Shut up,” Stacy says again, but then I hear her giggle. “Cripple.”

  “Wench,” Sebastian goes, and then both of them start cracking up.

  * * *

  On the short hike to the top of this year’s rappelling cliff, I make sure to fall into step with Stacy. Our legs are exactly the same length, and so our steps are in exactly the same rhythm. I slow us down and make sure everyone else gets a little ahead of us. Then I take a deep breath.

  “I have to talk to you.” Stacy’s hair is rolled into a shiny topknot today, with pieces falling around her ears. I watched her arrange it this morning. Her hands and fingers had moved quick, like a spider’s legs dancing on its web.

  “Okay.” She drops her arm around my shoulder. “So talk.”

  “You’ve got to stop saying stuff about Simon and me.”

  “What stuff?” Her arm goes stiff. I lift it off me. Then I face her full on.

  “Stace,” I say.

  “Al,” she says back, flashing her tongue ring.

  “Please stop spreading rumors.”

  “I just tell people what I see.”

  “No, you don’t.” I start walking again. “You lie.” Stacy steps toward me and tosses her arm over my shoulders again. She does it so it would look friendly to anybody watching. But she pulls me extra close and grabs a fistful of my hair, and she’s pulling hard. It hurts.

  “Ow!” I yell. She claps her other hand over my mouth. That hurts too.

  “I like you, Alex,” she whispers, turning her fist slow, pulling tighter without having to yank. It burns my scalp, and tears spring right through my eyes. “But don’t you ever call me a liar again.” She lets go and jogs toward the head of our group. If I weren’t so surprised, I wouldn’t have let her get away. I would have punched her and stomped on her head. I wouldn’t care what my parents or Simon or anybody would say. I wouldn’t care if my stomach cramped forever. She better watch her back.

 
; * * *

  After Teddy’s dad’s group double-checks the ropes for frayed places and Simon’s group double-checks his anchor knots, Simon heads off to the landing spot below us.

  “All right, Alex,” he says. “You’re up.”

  “You go,” I tell Tim, even though we all drew sticks to decide the order, and I drew the longest one.

  “Why?” Tim goes. My scalp is still burning.

  “Hurry up,” Sebastian says. “We don’t have all day.”

  “I don’t want to be alone with Simon down there,” I whisper to Tim. I’m about to add it’s because of what Stacy will make up about it later, not because Simon would ever do anything to me, but I can’t because everybody’s getting impatient.

  “Come on,” Sebastian says again.

  “Let’s go, Alex,” Teddy’s dad calls.

  “Tim’s going first,” I say. Tim opens his mouth, like he’s going to say something, but then he closes it again, scrunching his eyebrows at me. Please, Tim, I think. Just do it.

  His ride down is as smooth and straight as soda through a straw. The rest of us watch from above by lying down on our stomachs with our heads poking out over the edge, which gives you a real rush. Except my chest feels kind of sore leaning against the ground. At first I think I’ve bruised it or something, but then, as Teddy’s dad is helping me get harnessed in, I think it’s maybe because I’m finally growing something there.

  “Ready?” Teddy’s dad asks me. For what, exactly? I feel like asking.

  “Ready.” I ease backward, using my feet to find the side of the cliff. If I look down, I might panic, so I focus back and forth on my shoes and on what’s out to my side. All those mountains and green-and-brown fields, dotted with yellow-and-blue clusters of wildflowers and traces of ribbony roads. You can’t concentrate too much on how everything looks like a fairy tale because if you lose focus, you might get hurt. So, instead, I think about the beat of my body and feet: Slap, pull up, pause, push out, slide down. Slap, pull up, pause, push out, slide dawn. Slap, pull up, pause, push out. And at the last slide down, the ground rises up solid under me, and Simon and Tim smile big smiles and say I did great and pull me out of the harness and ropes, and I can’t believe it’s already over until my turn next year.

  “Number three on her way!” Teddy’s dad yells down as Stacy’s bottom and legs appear from high above and then bounce toward us in clumsy spurts and stops.

  Her ride is a little choppy, but she’s not screaming or anything, the way Marie did a few years ago. When she’s about two thirds of the way down, Stacy freezes. She’s close enough now that we can see her face pretty well, and it’s white.

  “Stacy?” Simon goes. She doesn’t answer. “Stacy, what’s the problem?”

  “I’m stuck!” Her voice has that tinny sound it gets when she’s upset for real and not just for show. It’s confusing to think that the person up there, scared, is the same one who tore my hair so hard earlier.

  “It’s okay, Stacy,” Simon calls up to her. “You’re over halfway.”

  “But I’m stuck!” she yells back, and a part of me wishes she really were.

  “You are not stuck,” Simon goes. “You just need a rest.”

  “Yes, I am, Simon! I’m stuck! I’m stuck!” She’s yelling at the top of her lungs now, and from far above, I can see small faces poking over the top of the cliff like dolls’ heads.

  “Now listen up,” Simon calls. He motions to Tim and me to come over and grab the rope. We do it, and he steps away, I guess so he can look up and talk to her easier. “Take a deep breath through your nose,” Simon tells her calmly. “Okay? A deep breath through your nose. Then let it out slow through your mouth, slow.”

  “Slowly,” Tim mutters, and I glare at him, but he doesn’t even notice he’s said it. Stacy starts kicking her feet, and the rope bucks in our hands. It’s burning my palm, but I hold on.

  “You breathe!” she screams, kicking her legs harder. “I can’t!”

  “Yes, you can. Now do it.” She’s quiet a minute, and I guess she breathes, because the rope stops twisting.

  “Keep breathing,” Simon goes.

  “I am,” Stacy snaps. We wait, staring up at her, like she’s some kite caught in a telephone wire or a cat up a tree.

  “Okay, now push your lower hand out. Just a little,” Simon tells her. “The hand behind your back. Push it out.” She pushes it out, and her body creeps downward. “Good,” Simon calls. “Keep your eyes on your feet. Keep going just like that. A little at a time.” Stacy creeps lower and lower, and pretty soon Tim and I loosen our grip and step away. She’s so close, I can see a small rip in her left jean pocket.

  “I hate this,” Stacy’s saying. “I’m not ever doing this again. I—”

  And then there’s a cracking sound, and suddenly Stacy’s lying on the ground, and the rope is flying down from above, from the place where she was stuck. It winds through the air, hypnotizing me with its arc, until the torn edge slashes my face, and then Simon’s bending over Stacy, and my cheek is stinging, like it’s been cut with a knife.

  “Don’t move,” Simon tells Stacy. She’s trying to sit up. “Don’t move.” He runs his hands up and down her arms and legs.

  “Don’t touch me!” She pushes his hands away and jumps to her feet. Then she turns to Tim and me. She’s grinning.

  “That last part was a blast!”

  * * *

  We can barely keep up with Simon. He’s running on the trail to the top of the cliff. The sting in my cheek has faded a little underneath Simon’s emergency-kit cream, and Stacy has a huge tear in the knee of her jeans, with a smear of blood showing through, but otherwise, everybody’s okay.

  “It looks like you got stabbed,” Tim says, checking out my cheek.

  “Tell everybody you won a fight,” Stacy says. I ignore her.

  “The rope broke,” I say to Tim. I speed up a little because Simon’s pulling ahead. “We checked it a bunch of times, but it broke anyway.”

  “It must have been a lump,” Tim says. “Teddy’s dad missed a lump.”

  “Is that what I got stuck on?” Stacy asks. Probably. And I thought she was just scared. We’re almost to the top of the cliff, and Simon’s still running. When we finally break off the path to the launch spot, the other kids and Teddy’s dad are standing as still as store mannequins. It seems like they’re not even breathing.

  “Thank God,” Teddy’s dad goes when he sees Stacy jogging toward him.

  Simon pounds right up to Teddy’s dad, as close as Stacy usually stands to people.

  “That fall could have been from the top!” Simon goes. Teddy’s dad backs up a few steps.

  “I know it,” he goes. “Believe me. The rope must have—”

  “Rope must have nothing. That was supposed to be triple-checked, Paul! Triple-checked!”

  “Simon, the kids . . . ,” Teddy’s dad says. His voice cracks halfway through kids. I thought only boys’ voices cracked like that. “Can we discuss this later?”

  “Dad?” Teddy goes, and I wish he could fall right down a hole so he wouldn’t have to see this. His dad puts his hand up, like he wants to pat Simon or something, but Simon jerks back just the way Stacy jerked away from him a few minutes ago. He spits on the ground and then runs his hands through his hair.

  “I’m taking a hike,” he says after a second. “Anybody who wants to come is welcome. Everybody else go back to the campsite with Paul.”

  * * *

  I go with Simon. Mostly because I don’t want to go back to camp so early in the day, watching Teddy’s dad with that awful look on his face, like some sort of broken clown. And I know Sebastian will be moaning all afternoon about how he got gypped out of his turn down the cliff, and I’m not in the mood to hear that. Even though I don’t know how to act with Stacy anymore, now that she did what she did this morning, I’m also still afraid to be wherever she’s not because I’m worried about what she might say. She follows Simon first, after Tim, so it seems like
the thing to do.

  “Where are we going?” Danny asks. We’re veering off the marked trail into more prickly underbrush. Simon doesn’t answer. He just makes his humming noise.

  “Hey, Simon,” Stacy goes. “Danny asked where we’re going.”

  “Sshh,” Tim tells her.

  “You sshh,” she tells him back.

  We follow Simon single file, making our way upward the whole time. My back is bent forward somehow, and my calves start to ache, but I’m not about to ask for a rest. Anyway, it doesn’t look like Simon’s going to stop for anyone.

  We push our way up the mountain. It seems like forever, but maybe it’s only an hour or something. We don’t stop once, and my heart’s beating like I’m running a marathon, and even though it’s not hot out, I’m sweating everywhere—on my scalp and the soles of my feet and everything.

  But then I’m so tired, and I’m concentrating so hard on not getting branches in my eye or my cut cheek, that my brain sort of fades into a kind of nowhere land. The next thing I know, I’m stopped and sitting in a flat space with miles and miles of the world on all sides. It takes me a minute to realize that Simon’s hiked us up to the peak of the mountain.

  He stops his humming—he probably stopped it a while ago—and his smile is so wide, you couldn’t fit it inside the mansion.

  “Nice, huh?” he says. We grunt a little, which is the best we can do, we’re so wiped. Simon throws himself on the ground in a front fall, catching himself on his hands so it looks like he’s ending in a push-up, and then he just settles right on the ground, all stretched out on his belly.

  Tim flops on his butt right next to four purple crocuses, takes a swig from his canteen, and then dumps the rest of the water all over his head. Stacy’s lying flat, arms and legs wide, staring up at the sky. Viv and Sophie are leaning against each other’s backs, drinking and drinking from their water bottles; and Danny’s perched as close to the mountain’s edge as he can get, looking like some sort of blue-and-black-headed alien animal.

  I rest my head on Tim’s legs, watching the sky turn into millions of white and black and orange dots, like when you rub your eyes hard and you make spots on the insides of your lids, and then, I guess, I’m asleep.