The Trail Rules

by Melanie Hooyenga

  Cally leans her shoulder against mine. “Hey.”

  I look up, embarrassed by the tears that shine in my eyes for the second time in a few minutes. “I didn’t expect to miss her. We had all these silly traditions for the first day of school and this is the first time I won’t be doing them.”

  “Would it help if we wore matching outfits?” A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, like she’s unsure if she should make a joke.

  I roll my eyes and a laugh escapes me. “No! God, no. I do not miss her obsession with the coordinated outfits.” I grab Cally’s arm. “Do you know how excited I am to wear something other than that stupid blue ski suit this year?” Brianna insisted we wear the same outfits, just in different colors. Pink for her, orange for Kenzie, and neon blue for me. Cally joked we looked like an 80s travel ad.

  “But how will I find you?” Cally teases, and I smack her arm. “Seriously, though. As much as I don’t like her, I know you have a history. I’m sorry if I sometimes forget that.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could forget,” I whisper.

  We fall silent, but that silence doesn’t last long because a loud whoop erupts on the deck and Austin hurdles the steps to the grass. In moments he’s at Evan’s side and they’re doing the one-armed guy hug thing. He nods at Blake and the three of them start laughing at something Austin said.

  “What would Bri think of that?” Cally asks. “Two Moguls and a Ski Bum talking at a party. It sounds like the start to a bad joke.”

  I smile, but my heart’s not in it. Instead, I’m reminded that me leaving the Snow Bunnies started the crack in Brianna’s world, ending with Austin dumping her for good.

  Cally grabs my hand. “Let’s go see what they’re so excited about.” She drags me across the yard and we join the guys as they raise their plastic cups.

  Austin’s normally booming voice is soft and his eyes lift to the sky. “It’s not the same without you.”

  Blake and Evan shake their heads, and I move closer to Evan. He slides an arm around my waist and pulls me close, his other arm still holding his cup in the air. “We miss you, Reece.”

  No one speaks for a moment and I’m beginning to think this is turning into the world’s most depressing party, when Austin cracks a smile.

  “Reece would tell us we’re being a bunch of pussies.”

  Evan snorts. “He’d be right.”

  Cally tucks herself against Blake. She barely got to know Reece but she’s no stranger to loss. Her mom died when she was little and sometimes I forget it’s been eight years from the way it still affects her. Blake runs his hand down her arm. His little brother died when we were in middle school, a couple years after I moved here. Brianna was there the day it happened and I’ve always felt like she left something out when she told me the story.

  Blake reaches forward and toasts Austin’s cup. “So what would Reece want us to do?”

  A mischievous smile lights up Austin’s face. “Talk to girls?” He eyes each one of us with a raised eyebrow. “And since I’m the only single one here, I’m going back in.” He lifts his cup once more then jogs to the deck and pushes his way into the center of the crowd of dancers, taking his enthusiasm with him.

  Evan sinks into one of the chairs and pulls me into his lap. I open my mouth to share a memory about Reece but his lips are on mine before I can speak. My eyes close and my arms drift around his neck. His arms circle my waist, one hand slipping beneath the hem of my shirt. My breath catches as it always does. We’ve been a lot more naked than this—well, not completely naked, but close—but I still thrill at his touch. His lips part and the kiss deepens and everything else falls away. The sounds from the party, Cally and Blake in the next chair, and my worries about Monday are pushed away as Evan pulls me closer. I wish I could stay in this moment forever, beneath the stars with the fire crackling nearby.

  Evan breaks the kiss and his mouth moves to my ear. “I love you,” he whispers, tickling my skin.

  “I love you, too,” I whisper back.

  If only that were enough.

  Chapter 3

  By ten the next morning, I’m back in Evan’s SUV, our bikes strapped to the rack, and I’m doing my best to leave my nerves about tomorrow at home. My mood doesn’t get past Evan.

  “You okay?” He reaches across the center console and slips his fingers between mine. “You’ve been quiet since last night.”

  To say Evan hates Brianna would be an understatement. My friendship with her is what broke us up last winter and if he knew I was wasting energy thinking about her, he… I don’t know. I know I should be honest with him but part of me is afraid of what he’ll think—that he’ll somehow think less of me if he knew I missed her.

  We slow for a red light and he faces me. “Hey, talk to me.”

  I pull my hand from his and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “It’s stupid.”

  “If it’s bothering you this much, it’s not stupid.”

  I meet his gaze and my insides relax. This is Evan. He isn’t going to judge me. “Tomorrow is my first first day without Brianna and I know I’m better off without her—I do, really—but part of me misses our silly traditions. I know I can get my own latte and wear something special, but it’s not the same.”

  The light turns green and his focus returns to the road. He’s quiet for a moment, then it stretches into a minute. His fingers flex on the steering wheel, and when he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You’re right. It’s not the same.”

  It takes me a second, then his meaning hits me in the gut. Reece. I’m whining about not being friends with someone who treated me like crap and his best friend is dead. His first day will be infinitely worse than mine. I grab his hand. “Evan, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking—”

  “It’s okay. It’s just—” he shakes his head. “Just when I think I’m moving on, that I’m getting over it, something like this comes up and it’s like I’m losing him all over again.”

  I rub the back of his hand with my thumb. Aside from Reece, I don’t know anyone who’s died. I don’t have advice to get through this. All I can do is be here for him.

  He squeezes my hand. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

  My heart races, but my smile falters. “You won’t.” Even as I say the words, I wonder if I can live up to that promise.

  When we arrive at the parking lot near the trail head, the mood is still somber. Evan twists in his seat to face me. “I know what we’re dealing with isn’t the same, but I get that this is hard for you. Just because I think she’s a total B doesn’t mean you can’t miss her.” He drops his gaze for a moment, and when he looks up a smile touches his lips. “As long as you don’t go back to being a Bunny.”

  Go back? I didn’t think that was an option. I lean toward him and brush my lips over his. “Why would I ever go back?”

  He moves his hand to my cheek and cradles my face. He kisses me once more, just enough to make me want to forget riding and stay in the car, but then he pulls away. “Ready?”

  I unfasten my seatbelt and hop onto the pavement. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I beat him to the bikes and unstrap mine before he can help. He’s beyond sweet and always wants to help, but if I’m going to do this, I need to be able to do it one hundred percent. Having my boyfriend carry my gear to the top of the trail isn’t real riding.

  Evan crosses his arms and smiles while I heft my bike off the rack and to the ground. He’s heard that argument before.

  A few minutes later, we’re on the hard-packed trail that leads from the parking lot to the trees, and I exhale. I’ve always loved being outdoors—I think it’s a requirement when you live in Colorado—but I never imagined how much I’d come to crave being “one with the dirt,” as Evan likes to say. A lot of boarders and skiers ride when there’s no snow but with Brianna leading the way, I’d never gotten into this scene.

  Now I’m grateful for it.

  I flex my forearms as we crest the first incline, letting gravity pul
l me downhill. Evan’s far enough ahead that I won’t run him over if he crashes—another thing I’m still getting used to. When I ski, I never take chances so there’s no risk of falling, but careening through the woods while balanced on two rubber tubes kind of guarantees you’re gonna fall.

  The wall of trees thickens. I squeeze the brakes to slow down but don’t sit. That’s another thing I’ve learned: the seat’s pretty much there to stop the bike from impaling you. It’s not for sitting—at least not on hills.

  Sunlight streams through an opening far above, highlighting a gnarly root jutting from the side of the narrow trail. I pull up on the handlebars and smile when my front wheel safely clears the twisted wood.

  “Hook left!” Evan’s voice carries up to me.

  A wall of trees lies straight ahead. I’d probably slam into them without his warning. I test the brakes and ease into the turn, leaning left like he taught me. My stomach flutters like I’m on the big drop on a roller coaster. A tiny piece of me is still afraid I’m going to tip over if I lean too far, but I do it anyways. My arms shake as I bounce over the uneven trail, the vibrations rattling my teeth, but I don’t fall. When the path straightens, a smile spreads over my face. Evan could do this trail in his sleep but I’m still shocked any time I make it through a turn unscathed.

  His bright green shirt flashes through the trees ahead of me. I pedal to gain speed and force myself to take slow, steady breaths. Being able to see him helps me navigate the turns because I know what to expect, but I still need to watch the ground. Riding requires split focus—way more than skiing—because the kind people at the ski resorts clear stumps and rocks from the runs.

  When I see him stopped at the edge of the trail my whole body relaxes.

  “Need a break?” he asks.

  I don’t, but he’s already stopped so I rest a foot on the ground, the other still on the pedal, and grab my water bottle from the crossbar. “Just for a sec.”

  “You’re doing great, Mike. I hope you know that—”

  A whoop from up the trail where we just were makes us both turn. Flashes of orange and yellow fly through the trees and in seconds two bikers skid to a stop next to us. They both drop a foot to the ground, smiles plastered to their mud-streaked faces. There’s so much dirt it’s hard to tell skin or hair color. With the exception of their neon shirts, they’re brown from head to toe.

  The guy in yellow nods at Evan. “Gorgeous day, huh?”

  Mr. Orange nods at me. “Y’all okay?” A couple day’s worth of stubble peeks through the mud, making him look older than his friend.

  Evan and I say, “Yeah,” in unison.

  “Just taking a quick break,” Evan adds.

  “I’m Topher,” says Yellow Guy.

  “Evan.”

  I lift a hand in a wave. “Mike.”

  “No, shit?” Topher says.

  I’m used to getting weird reactions about my name, so I just shrug.

  Topher nudges Mr. Orange, who glances at the ground before saying, “Mica.”

  Topher doubles over laughing, but the rest of us just smile. A name is a name. It’s not like I haven’t met fifty billion Mikes before.

  But either Mica’s never met a girl named Mike or he doesn’t handle teasing well, because the tips of his ears turn red beneath his helmet.

  I flick my thumb over the lever for my brake. Evan clears his throat. And poor Mica shifts his weight from one foot to the other as his friend slowly realizes no one else is laughing.

  Topher pushes his shoulders back and nods up the trail. “Haven’t seen you before.”

  Evan smiles at me. “It took me a while to convince her.”

  There’s so much unsaid in that statement—me choosing him over Brianna, finally learning to ride—and the warmth that usually spreads through me when he says things like that turns to irritation. Like I’d never consider riding without his permission.

  Topher doesn’t seem to notice my mood shift. He clicks his brake gear back and forth. “You enter the Pow Cross?”

  The spell breaks and I whip my head at him. “Pow Cross?”

  Mica finally finds his voice, and I’m startled at how it’s both smooth and rumbly at the same time, like it’s coming from deep in his chest. “It’s a big race at the end of the season. There’s categories for all levels so you”—his eyes meet mine for a millisecond, then flick to Evan—“can enter even if you’re a beginner.”

  Evan’s face lights up. On the competitiveness scale, he’s below Cally but definitely above me, and I can already tell he wants to do it. “Where do we sign up?”

  I hold up a hand and Topher quirks an eyebrow. “Why pow? Isn’t that snow?”

  Topher grips his handlebars like that’s all that’s keeping him from bouncing out of his skin. “Technically, there’s pow—snow—and brown pow,” he points at the dirt beneath us, “but this race is so late in the season there’s usually snow.”

  “Biking in snow?”

  Mica grins. “It’s pretty rad.”

  “It sounds cold.”

  “You’ve got gear that’ll work.” Evan leans toward me and runs his hand down my arm. For a split second it feels like he’s marking his property, but Evan’s not like that. And besides, these guys are older. Mica practically has a beard. We’re just a couple kids and they’re being nice. He turns to Topher. “Thanks, man. We’ll check it out.”

  Topher hops off his bike to fist bump Evan, then me. “Sweet.” Then he’s back on his bike and heading down the trail. “See ya!”

  Mica rests a foot on his pedal. “It’s a cold race, but it’s awesome. Think about it.” He catches my eye and holds my gaze for a beat, then is back on his bike and pedaling away.

  Evan faces me. “What do you think?”

  My mind follows Mica and his piercing gaze down the trail. We barely made eye contact but it’s like he saw right through me. What’s that about? I shake the thought away.

  “You’re not even gonna consider it?”

  “What? Oh.” He took my head shake as a no to his question. I smile, but it feels forced. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. It sounds fun.”

  He squeezes my arm. “That’s all it would be. Fun. No pressure.”

  If Evan thinks I should, I probably will.

  “You ready?” I nod, and he mounts his bike and takes off after Topher and Mica.

  I feel unsteady, but for once it’s not because of my lack of riding skills. I’m not sure what just happened, and I don’t like the tiny part of me that hopes we catch up to them.

  Chapter 4

  “Have a great first day!”

  My heart sinks when the barista hands me two venti lattes through the drive-through window. Her voice is friendly, yet I can’t bring myself to return her enthusiasm.

  But I do smile, because Mom’s always on me about being polite. “Thanks.” I pass Cally her dirty chai—she agreed to help with the latte tradition, but hers is chai mixed with expresso—and we touch the cups together.

  “To being juniors.” Cally cradles her cup in her lap and smiles.

  Once my coffee is settled in the cup holder, I finish the drive to school, my dread worsening with each block.

  Cally pokes my arm. “It’ll be okay. It’s just school.” She knows why I’m dreading the first day, but doesn’t really get it. Even I don’t get it. Brianna and I stopped being friends six months ago. I haven’t spoken to her since. So why is the first day so hard without her?

  My latte churns in my stomach when I pull into the parking lot, but a nervous excitement pushes away my dread.

  Cally bounces in the seat next to me. “It’s silly to be excited, right? We just saw half the school on Saturday.”

  This time my smile is real. “It’s always been like that for me.”

  She opens her door and slings her backpack over her shoulder. I fall in step next to her. “It’s the anticipation. Like just before a race. You can run through all the scenarios ahead of time but you won’t know what’s really go
nna happen until you push through the gate.”

  I push Brianna from my head and let Cally’s enthusiasm carry me to the front doors. We smile and wave at kids we haven’t seen since last spring and I take a deep breath before stepping inside. The familiar scent of bleached mustiness stops us in our tracks. “It’s like they bottle it and spray down the school at the start of the year.”

  Cally squeezes my arm. “It’ll be okay,” she repeats softly. “All that drama is over. If you see her, just smile and keep walking.”

  Easier said than done, but I nod. “See you later.”

  She lifts her cup in a salute and heads down the hall to her locker. Not only do we not have lunch together, our lockers are practically at the opposite ends of the junior hall.

  Strong hands slide around my waist as I’m turning the combination and I turn to face Evan. “Happy first day.” He nods at the cup in my hand. “How’d it go?”

  I shrug. “It went.” His smile fades and I rest my hand on his chest. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I should start junior year—moping about something that happened six months ago. Something I chose to happen.” I lean closer and press a kiss to his smooth cheek, but he still doesn’t smile. I pull back. “Are you okay?”

  This time he shrugs. “Today hasn’t been the same for me either.”

  Reece. Duh. I’ve got to be the most selfish, self-centered girlfriend ever. “I’m sorry, Evan. I’m whining about a stupid coffee tradition but you lost Reece.”

  He clenches his jaw and his eyes drift to the ceiling for a moment before settling back on mine. “Mom insists it’ll get easier. And it has. But I keep expecting to see him come down the hall with that look on his face that says he’s up to something.”

  I smile. Reece was the mischievous one in the group, always quick with a perverted comment or practical joke.

  He kisses me on the nose. “But I’ve got you, so that makes it easier.”

  My chest clenches, but not in an aww-my-boyfriend-loves-me way. More like a that’s-a-lot-of-pressure-and-now-I-can’t-breathe way. I don’t know what to say that won’t come out wrong, so I brush my lips over his. “See you in third?”