"How dare you presume to buy me my favorite flavor of fudge!" I yell.
Through the mesh netting above me I watch a bank of clouds cross the sky wiping the stars away like one of the dark gray dishtowels Mom sometimes accidentally brings home from work. I wait for Jane, even though I know I'll pretend to be asleep when she comes back.
I hate him! How dare he sell the cabin and the boat without even telling me? I'm so sick of letting him hurt me, Grace, Mom ... Tears stream down my cheeks, dampening my pillow.
I spend half the night waiting for Jane, plotting revenge on Dad.
Dear Miss Swoon:
Is there ever a situation in which revenge against an ex is warranted?
—Plenty Of Reasons
Dear Plenty:
You will be much happier if you focus your energy on yourself. Go to my new website and find an affirmation to get you started on the path to Positivity.
—Miss Swoon
My sweatshirt wraps her like a hug, but she refuses the light I offer.
—X.C.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I wake up alone. Jane must've stayed with Rowdy. I've got an achy head, but I'm not sure if it's because of the beers, tears, anger, or general suckiness of my life. Above my tent there is a patch of blue sky, but I can see thick gray clouds hovering over the mountains. If I didn't know the difference between cumulus and cumulonimbus clouds, I'd think they were a metaphor for the pain hovering around me. But really it's just going to rain. Literally not literarily.
In spite of the pending rain but because of my sore, puffy eyes, I slip on a pair of sunglasses, along with a Polyamide smile, and exit my tent. A pair of sophomore boys who've failed at the natural selection thing (no hookups) have built a campfire and rigged up a system to set their Pop-Tarts on fire.
"If you're attempting to toast your breakfast pastries, you might want to utilize the indirect heat," I say, peering at the charred remains of several Pop-Tarts. "Any strawberry left?"
They gape at me like I'm speaking a foreign language.
"Do I need to belch that out for you?"
They shake their heads, kind of smiling, and the cuter one hands me the foil package he's holding.
"Watch and learn, boys." I rip open the package and proceed to impress them by toasting my Pop-Tarts to a lovely, even shade of golden brown.
"We have cocoa, too."
"Make mine a double."
They laugh nervously, which confuses me a little until a hand brushes my arm.
"Hey." Xander sounds almost shy.
I turn around, daring to look at him through my sunglasses, which unfortunately doesn't seem to unnerve him at all. "Would you like a delicious, prepackaged but perfectly toasted breakfast pastry? I mean, I don't even know if you like this kind of thing and maybe you already ate something in your tent." My cheeks provide more radiation than the sun now struggling to shine through the clouds. "But you can have one if you want."
Xander takes one of the Pop-Tarts from me, letting his fingers linger too long. "Thanks."
"Okay, well. Where's that cocoa?"
One of the sophomores goes rushing off. "It's in my tent!" The other one gets nervous and then runs off to help fetch the cocoa, leaving me alone with Xander.
"You feeling okay?"
I grin, thankful for my sunglasses. "Bright as sunshine."
"The sun isn't shining." He pushes my sunglasses onto the top of my head.
I avert my eyes. "Yeah, well, that's just a technicality."
"Come on, Polly. Don't." Xander brushes a finger across the tender part beneath my eye. "What's going on with you?"
I shake my head. Fortunately the sophomores return with the cocoa, allowing me to return to my familiar, comfortable, joking-around mode, and, yeah, I'm reminding myself way too much of my mother.
A little while later, almost everyone decides to hike down near the marina to check out the beach. I decline: I no longer participate in activities in which the word "hike" is involved. It's a matter of principle.
Not that I enjoy being left alone with my thoughts. I try just about everything: affirmations to focus on the positivity, reciting the periodic table of elements in my head, jumping jacks to get my adrenaline flowing, but I just can't shake the painful emotions accumulating faster than the clouds in the sky.
When the hiking group returns, Sonnet complains about the beach conditions. "It's like so gross down there."
"Full of weedy weeds. Rocks. Greasy boat grease," Sawyer adds.
Sonnet sighs. "If only we had a boat."
"A boat would totally rock!" Kipper says, intimately leaning into Sawyer. The two of them sounded like rabid raccoons last night.
Everyone else murmurs agreement, makes boat jokes. I look down at the marina, not really able to see Dad's boat, but I'm quite intimate with its cushy seating for fourteen, as well as Dad's hide-a-key location. I glance around, counting. We have seventeen—but I'm sure some people wouldn't mind sharing other people's laps.
A little bit of my anger releases as I think about how good it would feel to take Dad's precious boat out on the lake without him ever knowing. "Actually..." I say.
***
After making more than a few wrong turns, we finally enter Horseshoe Canyon, chasing a patch of sunshine breaking through the clouds. I make a joke about the large Swim at Your Own Risk sign at the entrance.
Sonnet grins at me again. "Can I just tell you one more time that your awesomeness is awesome?" I laugh because I know she's making fun of Sawyer.
I smile, actually feeling it. Jane sits on Rowdy's lap while he drives. He practically begged me to let him drive, going on and on about his tremendous boat-driving skills. Although I fear his expertise doesn't extend beyond steering his grandpa's boat during childhood fishing trips, he's doing okay. The lake is huge, plus we only see a few other boats out today. The clouds don't look that ominous! Rowdy overcorrects as the canyon narrows and we slide on the seats. I think about taking over, but he gets back on course, so I settle back against the seat. Heat radiates from the steep canyon walls, and an osprey circles above, searching for fish.
I'm sitting between my sophomore pals, sharing a bag of Doritos and ignoring Xander's way too paternalistic demeanor. He tried to stop me from hijacking—his word, not mine—the boat—oh, I don't know—about six times on the way to the marina. He actually grabbed my arm to prevent me from dropping the For Sale sign into the water. But I've learned a thing or two from those squirmy brats roving the Lazy River, and I managed to twist out of his grip and sink the damn sign.
Rowdy slows the boat, looking at the depth finder. "The water here is nearly two hundred feet deep, and the rocks look great for jumping. What do you say?"
A collective "Yay!" echoes off the canyon walls. I'm the first one in the water, diving off the back of my seat: a trick I've perfected over the last few summers to impress fellow boaters in my acceptable age and attractiveness range.
"Wow," I hear one of the sophomores say.
"Don't get any ideas," says the other one. At least Xander keeps quiet.
It takes me only a few strokes to reach the rocks. I stand on the ledge just below the water and reach up to begin climbing. People on the boat cheer, but it's really nothing. My family used to stop to swim at this spot all the time. I know what I'm doing. I reach a fairly impressive height and without hesitating cannonball into the water.
"Who's next?" I yell.
Sawyer immediately whips off his shirt. Some of the girls squeal as they climb down the ladder into the cold water. Soon almost everyone is splashing around in the sparkling sunshine. Only Xander sits on the boat, watching me, when he's not watching the thick gray clouds taunting the sun. I dunk under and swim through deeper, colder water back to the ledge. I'll show him some cliff jumping!
I scramble next to Sawyer, who has reached my previous jumping spot. "Saw-yer Later, alligator," I say, climbing past him. I hear a few oohs and ahs from below, so I keep going until the wate
r looks really far away.
"That's a suicidal height!" I hear Rowdy yell.
Jane shrieks, "Climb back down, Polly!"
Sonnet bellows, "Go for it, girl. I've got my camera ready!"
Below me, Sawyer jumps and swims back to the boat. But all eyes fix on me. I decide to put on a bit of a show, since I've already gone way beyond bad girl with, you know, stealing a boat and everything. I'll give Sonnet something to blog about. I sit down on the sun-warmed rocks, stretch out my legs, and prop my head up with one hand like a sexy bikini model. The sun feels good on my face, even though I know I'll pay for it later with freckles and sunburned skin. A few minutes later I stand up and walk to the ledge. Another rock juts out below me, and I'm not sure I can jump out far enough. The "don't jump" calls now equal the "jump" calls. I'm pretty sure all my ex-boyfriends want to see me jump. Sonnet's camera glints in the sun.
When I bend my knees as a tease, Xander shoots into the water, still wearing his shirt. For a guy who rarely steps foot in the water at Wild Waves, he reaches the cliffs with impressive speed. I'd jump, but the water is too far away, and the ledge does jut out too far. And as pissed as I am, I'm not suicidal. Although part of me thinks Dad deserves it. Mom, too. But even I know that's pretty stupid thinking.
Out of breath, dripping wet, eyes wide, Xander reaches me and yanks my arm—hard—pulling me from the edge. He tries to say something, but he starts crying.
I'm shocked. I've never seen a guy cry before; I'd kind of considered their tear ducts as vestigial organs or something. Silly thoughts float through my head. I try to laugh but it comes out like a choke, and now I'm crying, too. Xander pulls me farther from the edge and closer to him. He's shivering and holding me so tight.
"It's going to be okay, Polly. Everything will work out. Trust me."
I allow myself to sink into him, for a moment. Just to see what it feels like. He relaxes his body a bit. I feel a shudder ripple through him. Or maybe it's me.
I let myself fall into him.
He holds me tight, not saying anything. But now I feel like things will be okay. If I just let them be okay. If I just let myself go. Let myself trust him.
A few minutes later everyone below loses patience. Some yell "jump"; some yell "climb back down."
Xander lets go of me, without letting go of me. Both of his hands hold my elbows. "You ready to climb down?"
I nod.
We carefully climb down the boulders, though groans of disappointment echo with the thunder in the distance; it's much easier going up than down, and I slip more than once. But Xander's right below me guiding me to the next foothold. We stop to breathe when we reach the ledge I first jumped from.
And that's when I grab Xander's hand, pull him to the ledge, and shout, "Ready, one, two, three!" Holding hands, we splash down into the deep cold water. Together. He never lets go and neither do I. We even swim back to the boat holding hands.
And, yeah, it might mean something.
The sun loses its battle with the bank of clouds, so we all climb back into the boat. I find all the beach towels stored under the seats and hand them out to everyone while Jane passes out the snacks she bought at the marina with her mom's credit card. We're starving and devour everything in minutes. Rowdy starts the boat and exits the canyon just as it starts raining. Hayden and Jack struggle with the rain canopy, but it covers only the driver's seat in the back and a few spots on the side bench.
"Which way, Polly?" Rowdy asks.
Low-hanging clouds hide the tops of the high canyon walls, and the rain falls harder now. Everything looks different, plus I'm turned around enough that I'm not sure we've left the horseshoe-shaped canyon the same way we entered. I search for the Swim at Your Own Risk sign, but I can barely see through the sheets of rain now falling. Thunder cracks the sky, and everyone rushes to huddle under the small canopy, tilting the front of the boat out of the water.
Water rushes over the back of the boat, flooding the floor. The engine dips low, moaning in the wind-whipped lake.
"Get to the front of the boat!" I scream, racing toward the front, Xander at my side. Hayden follows. So does Jane. Almost everyone else huddles to keep out of the rain. Our weight is enough to keep the boat relatively steady, though. Rowdy shrugs his shoulders at me. He mouths, "Where?"
I shrug back. I just don't know.
Rowdy pushes the engine into gear and heads toward the left. Xander wraps a towel around my shoulders. He hands me another towel, but I give it to Hayden, who nods grimly. A bolt of lightning strikes the cliff tops ahead of us. I count, waiting for the thunder.
It comes too soon.
I've made a huge mistake. I look at the scared faces huddled together, draped in colorful beach towels like cartoon versions of Arabic sheiks. And maybe it would be funny—if the lightning weren't striking so close, the rain falling so hard, the canyon growing so narrow.
"This isn't it!" I yell.
Rowdy nods, unable to turn the boat around in the narrow space into which we've drifted. He backs up, slowly entering a wider portion of the lake. He speeds up as the canyon widens. Soon we're in the middle of the lake. Huge waves rock the boat, swelling, lifting the hull, dropping us back down. Clank. The entire boat shudders. Water sloshes against the canyon walls as if we're in a giant bathtub. The sky darkens. Rain falls harder. Thunder crashes.
"This isn't safe!" I can't tell who's screaming.
A finger of lightning touches the rock wall across the lake from us. The realization hits me: we're the highest point on the water. We're like the bull's-eye on a target.
"We have to find shelter!" I scream. "Stay low, everyone."
Rowdy looks scared.
Even though I want to slide to the floor of the boat and huddle against Xander, I take the wheel from Rowdy. Speeding up, I race toward the cliffs and turn the boat into a narrow canyon where the lightning will have plenty of higher objects to hit. I cut the engine to save gas.
With water splashing against the canyon walls we float, rocking with the storm-churned waves. Rain cuts across sideways in the wind, drenching us, even under the canopy. Xander stumbles toward me, kneels next to me, and wraps one towel around us, putting the other soaking-wet towel over our heads. We shiver together. No one talks. No one jokes. A few people pray. The sky turns so dark that I have no idea what time it is.
No one will come looking for us. No one knows that we took the boat. The boat drifts toward the canyon wall, scraping against the side with the wrenching crunch of metal against rock. A few people scream and shift to the other side, tipping the boat.
"Spread out!" I yell. "We've got to keep our weight even."
The boat crashes against the rocks again as we shift positions. I lean into Xander's shoulder, pinching my eyes shut to stop the tears. My thoughtless idea for revenge is going to get us all killed. Oh God. I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I peek behind me at Jane, looking so afraid. She doesn't move a millimeter. She sits with Rowdy, who has tenderly wrapped his arms around her. I've been so blind not to see how much he cares for her, that he really is a decent guy.
There are decent guys.
Hayden stumbles toward the front of the boat and sits down. He convinces Sawyer to move to the front to keep the weight better distributed. Sawyer reaches for Kipper's hand, but she shoves it away, wrapping her beach towel around her more tightly.
"Listen," Xander whispers, breath hot on my ear. "The storm is weakening."
Sure enough, the next clap of thunder sounds more distant. The wind eases. The rain falls consistent and hard but not with such force. Still we wait.
I keep expecting the sky to lighten, the sun to peek through the clouds. People start complaining about the cold, being hungry, thirsty, having to pee. Rowdy actually pees over the side of the boat and makes a big joke about it, but no one laughs. Jane gives him a weak smile.
A few stars twinkle through a break in the clouds by the time I restart the boat. Somehow I manage to steer us out of the canyon by fo
llowing the dark shadows, but there isn't much moonlight. The middle of the lake looks like a black hole, and the engine sounds weak chugging through the water. A huge shiver shakes my body. I'm not sure if I've ever been this wet and cold. Xander pulls me close. I lean my head on his shoulder. "I'm such a fool."
He rests his head on mine. Agreeing, I think.
Something clanks against the hull so I sit up straight, steering through the inky water cautiously, watching for debris. I've been so reckless. I must get everyone back safely. What did I think I was going to accomplish with this stunt? Dad's not going to act any differently; if anything, he'll be so angry he won't ever want to see me again. He might not even be able to sell the boat if it's too damaged. No more risks! I steer away from a dark mass floating in the water, shuddering again, too exhausted and cold to cry.
Xander brushes my temple with his cool lips. "You're doing great."
I do have to learn to take some risks emotionally.
"There!" someone shouts. "I see Rowdy's big old ugly truck!"
I look toward shore. A nearly full moon has broken through the clouds, shining on the campground just above the marina. I push the throttle down and race to the dock.
Later, a huge fire roars in the campground and everyone has changed into dry clothes. Laughter rings in the air as people recount various aspects of our harrowing journey. Beer, food, warmth, and, um, the fact that they didn't scratch up their dad's boat make everything okay. For them. Sonnet trills with excitement about the blog entry she can't wait to start writing. After eating I return to my tent.
I'm going to have to tell Dad about his boat. I'm going to have to tell Mom what I did, too, before Sonnet blogs about it. Turns out Mom's become a fan after learning about the blog from fellow Hamburger Heaven employees.
A few minutes later I hear footsteps outside my tent. Xander unzips the mesh door, which sounds way too much like his skateboard. He crawls inside, lies down next to me, and we just gaze at each other in the moonlight.
Swoon at Your Own Risk Page 20