The Trail Rules

by Melanie Hooyenga

  “You’re clear,” the woman calls over her shoulder.

  I snap out of my trance. Mica’s passed both guys so now it’s my turn. You can do this. I take a deep breath. She doesn’t know you’ve never done this before. She moves to one side, giving me room to pass, and I pedal harder.

  Don’t hit her. Don’t hit her. Don’t hit her.

  I repeat the phrase with each breath. Maybe if I say it enough it’ll keep me from taking us both down.

  My front tire is even with her back tire. “On your left.” My voice isn’t nearly loud enough, but she glances at me over her shoulder so I know she heard me.

  No turning back now.

  Well, I could slow down and stay behind her like I’ve done every other time I’ve ridden, but no. I’m doing this.

  I take another deep breath and push harder.

  Don’t look at her. Pretend she’s not there.

  Now we’re side by side. If anything bad is going to happen, it’s going to happen now. My front tire wobbles in the snowy slush but I tighten my grip and keep charging forward.

  “You’ve got this.”

  For a second it’s like my thoughts are channeling into the air around me, but it’s the woman gently encouraging me. Manners urge me to look at her and smile, but that would mean certain death for both of us. Or maybe not death, but a tangled mess of bikes and limbs and my ego. I smile, but stare straight ahead. “Thanks.”

  When I pull into the space in front of her, I do a mental fist pump.

  But I still have two more people to pass, and they aren’t nearly as confident on their bikes as she is.

  “On your left.” My voice is still shaky, but it’s a little louder. It doesn’t echo off the trees majestically like Mica’s did, but the man hears it and attempts to move to the side.

  Three inches.

  “That’s gonna have to be enough,” I whisper. I repeat the process—deep breath, tight grip, stare straight ahead—and this time I shoot by him in under five seconds. “Yes!” I whisper shout.

  The guy mutters something under his breath but I’m too pumped to worry about it. Plus I still have to do this one more time.

  The hill levels out and I give myself a minute to catch my breath, ignoring the slight tremor in my legs as I continue to pedal. Passing on a straightaway should be easy.

  Except now the guy is speeding up.

  “Seriously?” I whisper.

  He glances over his shoulder at me. “Oh, sorry. I was excited to not be on a hill.”

  I burst out laughing. “I know what you mean. On your left.” I shoot past him, crushing small sticks and ferns along the side of the trail. I am a machine! Then my tire slips on a pile of dead leaves and I almost lose control. Almost. I somehow manage to stay upright and use the sudden jolt of adrenaline to power past the guy.

  Mica glances over his shoulder at me and I pump my fist in the air, unable to stop the smile plastered to my face. “Nice job!”

  I want to get off my bike and jump around to celebrate, but then they’ll pass us and I’ll have to do that all over again. And those guys don’t seem stable enough to pass without crashing into something. So I keep pedaling.

  The trail splits and Mica shouts back “left or right?”

  On the trail, you need to make decisions fast. “Left!”

  He leans left and we’re greeted with a steep downhill.

  “Is it too late to change my mind?”

  His laughter carries back to me as he tears down the hill. I squeeze my brakes while he rockets over snow and mud and tree roots like nothing could stop him. And nothing does. He jumps over rocks, landing effortlessly without slowing down, and I’m in awe at this glimpse of what he can do on a bike. Meanwhile I’m steering around every obstacle like it’s out to get me. But I stay vertical, and when I get to the bottom of the hill, Mica’s waiting for me.

  I stop next to him on the side of the trail and he holds up his hand for a high-five. I slap his hand so hard it stings, unable to stop staring into his eyes. I feel high, like the adrenaline has made me a little crazy.

  “I told you you could do it.”

  “Now I believe you.”

  “You’re gonna crush the Pow Cross.”

  I snort. “I don’t know about that. But at least I won’t be stuck at the back of the pack.”

  He shakes his head. “No back of the pack for you.”

  I look down at his hands, which are gripping his handlebars, and impulsively grab one. “Thanks for pushing me.”

  He turns his hand so our palms are touching. They’re cold but strong and I fight the urge to pull him against me. I look up at him and his eyes burn into mine. My pulse stutters, and suddenly my big accomplishment doesn’t matter. All I care about is getting off my bike and closer to him.

  He must be thinking the same thing because while he doesn’t move his bike, he shifts toward me, tugging me into his arms. His mouth is on mine, eager and demanding. Our helmets clink but instead of laughing, I keep kissing him and shove mine to the back of my head. Except the strap cuts into my throat, gagging me. I cough into his mouth and we pull away.

  I rub my throat. “Sorry. Helmet malfunction.”

  He watches my fingers, then his gaze returns to my lips. Without saying a word, he unsnaps his helmet and hooks it on his handlebars, then does the same with mine. I reach to smooth my hair, but he grabs my hand and shakes his head. “You look beautiful.”

  Heat flares at my core and goosebumps cover my arms. No one’s ever looked at me with the intensity that’s in his eyes right now, and I get the feeling that if we weren’t standing on a busy trail in broad daylight, we’d both be half-naked by now. But the sounds of other riders whooping and yelling carries through the trees, reminding us of how very private this spot is not.

  But he doesn’t seem to care. He swings his leg over his bike and I’m back in his arms. Without the helmets getting in the way, our kiss is deeper, borderline frenzied. My hands roam his back, sliding over his hips, pulling him closer to my body. His hands settle at my lower back, and when I pull him still tighter, they drift over my butt. A moan escapes me and everything else drops away except him. My fingers hook on the hem of his shirt and with little thought to where it might lead, I tug it out from his waistband until I find bare skin. His flesh is hot beneath my cold hands, and he inhales sharply.

  “Sorry,” I whisper against his lips.

  “Do not,” he pecks my lips, “ever,” another kiss, “apologize,” one more kiss, “for doing that.” He presses a hand over mine as if telling them to stay, then cups my face and kisses me softly. “But if we keep this up, we might get banned from the trail.”

  That snaps me back to reality. “We could be done riding…” I blush at what I’m implying, and he rubs his thumb over my cheek.

  “We’re in the middle of the forest.”

  I laugh. “Details.”

  He kisses me again, but the heat has evaporated. His lips brush my nose, my eyes, and my temple, then he straightens. “You want to lead this time?”

  I look around at the unfamiliar trail. “I don’t know which way to go.”

  He points the way we were headed. “This’ll loop back to the parking lot in another couple miles. Or we can cut through here to a black that’s faster.”

  “Looping it is.”

  He smiles down at me and my stomach flips. “I’m really glad I met you.”

  “Me too.” There’s so much more I want to say, but it feels too soon.

  We get back on our bikes and I lead us down the trail, very aware that Mica is probably staring at my ass. If I were a more confident rider, I’d try to flex or move to tease him, but I need to use all my energy to stay on my bike.

  When we get back to the parking lot, Mica pulls a couple towels from the back of the Cherokee and secures our bikes while I dry myself off. We steal glances at each other while he pats himself dry, and when he drapes his towel around his neck, I grab both sides and yank him to me. Our lips crash
together and he moves me to the side of the car until my back meets metal. He lowers himself so we’re chest to chest and I breathe in everything about him. When his lips trail down my neck, I grip his hair and look over his shoulder—and lock eyes with a family of four staring at us with wide-eyes and dropped jaws.

  I gently push him away. “There’s, uh…” I nod at the family. “We have an audience.” I can feel a blush spread from my toes to my ears, but Mica turns around and waves at them. I burst out laughing and cover my face. “You’re not embarrassed?”

  He touches my cheek. “How could I be embarrassed of you?”

  And swoon.

  We climb into the car and don’t stop touching the whole drive home. When I finally go inside after even more kissing and promises to see each other in a couple days, I drift to the shower in a fog of bliss. I’m rinsing the conditioner from my hair when a realization hits me:

  For someone who’s as afraid of falling as I am, I’m falling hard.

  Chapter 28

  Who was I kidding thinking that just because Mica and I go to different schools I wouldn’t be distracted in class? He’s all I can think about. In History, Mr. Ray describes a long-forgotten war and I imagine Mica in uniform, charging over a battlefield. And in Ethics, he’s the compassionate man who manages to save both the puppy and adorable child dangling off a bridge.

  I came to class prepared to ignore Brianna as usual, but something about the way she’s hunched over in her desk makes alarm bells go off. Her physical appearance is off again too—nothing so major most people would notice—but her shirt isn’t ironed and her hair isn’t put together to her typical standards. It sounds completely superficial, but that’s Brianna.

  At least the Brianna I’ve known half my life.

  I open my mouth to speak half a dozen times, but settle for watching her out of the corner of my eye. She takes notes and nods along with the lecture, but something is definitely wrong. She catches me watching her but instead of looking away, I meet her eyes and give what I hope is a concerned look.

  When class ends, I stop her. “Bri.”

  She stops with her back to me, her head turned slightly my way.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Her shoulders sag. “Sure.”

  I move to her side. “I don’t buy it.”

  “Does it matter?” Her voice is soft, defeated—and completely unlike her.

  I touch her arm, then immediately pull back. So much has happened between us that physical contact feels too intimate. My inner voice whispers that this is not a path I want to go down again, but something is clearly wrong and no one else seems to care. “Yes, it does matter.”

  She scoffs, but it lacks the usual Bri fire. “I don’t buy it.” Even throwing my words back in my face doesn’t have the same effect it used to.

  “Do you want to hang out later?”

  “Ooh, are we going to be besties again?” Sarcasm drips from her words, but I don’t let it stop me.

  “No. We’re not. But we have a history and I’m worried about you.” I take a breath. Once I say it out loud there’s no turning back. “Did you really key Austin’s car?”

  Something flickers behind her eyes. For a moment I think I see the old Bri, the one who befriended me on my first day in a new school, who I’d stay up late with watching movies and talking about boys long before we actually knew what it’d be like to go on dates or kiss them. She pauses, and I think I might finally learn what’s going on, but the wall goes back up and the perfect, plastic Bri is back.

  “Why would I do that?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.

  “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  We stare at each other as students enter the class and take their seats, neither backing down.

  “You think you’re all high and mighty now?” She practically spits the words at me. “You dumped the only guy who could take you places and now—”

  “Ladies,” Miss Simpson cuts her off. “Please go to your next class.”

  My jaw clenches. Her words don’t surprise me, but it pisses me off that she still thinks she has a say in my life.

  “Ladies,” Miss Simpson says more firmly.

  Brianna turns on her heel and heads for the door. I don’t want to follow her, but there’s only one way out. She pauses in the hallway and I brace myself for her full wrath, but her anger is no longer directed at me. Austin and Mia are leaned against the wall, kissing, and it’s like Brianna transforms in front of me. Her shoulders straighten, her chin pushes up, and a flush creeps over her skin. She moves quickly toward them, not stopping until her shoulder clips Mia’s back, shoving her into Austin.

  “Hey!” Austin yells as Mia yelps.

  Brianna stalks down the hall but Austin catches her before she gets very far. He grabs her arm, whirling her around, and she levels her Medusa glare at him. Mia hangs a few feet back, looking uncertain, and I move to her side. Getting in the middle of this is not my idea of fun, but I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t want Brianna to completely self-destruct.

  “Get your hands off me!” Brianna shouts, and all movement in the hallway screeches to a stop. Kids pause to stare, eager for another one of her spectacles.

  “You pushed us,” Austin says, standing at his full height and glaring down at her. “I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t make out in the hallway when people are trying to get to class.”

  “Enough!” His deep voice rings in the hall. “I was willing to let the thing with my car slide because I felt bad for you, but—”

  “I didn’t do anything to your car.” She glances at the faces surrounding them, looking uncertain.

  Mia steps closer, keeping Austin between them. “Everyone knows you keyed it.”

  Brianna’s lips part for a millisecond. Then her jaw clenches and her wrath is back in full force. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  Mia rests her hand on Austin’s arm and gives Brianna a smug smile. “Actually, it does. You’re the one nobody cares about.”

  I’d never pegged Mia as the confrontational type, but I guess facing down girls on the soccer field gives you a special kind of confidence.

  “How could you choose her—” Brianna waves her hand at Mia like she can’t believe they’re sharing oxygen—“over me?”

  Austin slides his arm around Mia but keeps his glare focused on Brianna. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” He starts to walk away, Mia by his side, and shouts over his shoulder. “Leave us alone or I’ll file a police report about my car.”

  The color drains from Brianna’s face. I’m not sure if it’s the threat of the police or realizing it’s really over with Austin, but she seems to crumple inside herself. The bell for class sounds and kids scatter, leaving the two of us in the hall.

  Brianna holds up a hand, stopping me before I speak. “Don’t say it.”

  “Bri, what is going on?”

  Her face softens and it’s like the past two minutes didn’t happen. “I know you mean well. But I’m fine.” Then she turns and walks away.

  I don’t believe her, but I tried. And hopefully she knows that despite her attitude, I’m here if she really needs to talk to someone.

  *****

  I arrive at Chemistry a few minutes late, but Treich doesn’t seem to notice. My mind’s buzzing with what just happened. Brianna really did key Austin’s car. She’s never resorted to anything like that in the past, so something must really be wrong.

  “You okay?” Evan whispers.

  I nod, hating that he can so easily tell when something’s bothering me.

  When I was still with Evan, I tried my best not to compare him to Mica, but now, sitting next to him in class, it’s clear that Mica is everything Evan is not. Mica’s several inches taller, broader, and while neither could ever be called timid, Mica has an air of confidence about him that seems more mature, like he’s already a man. I can’t deny that Evan’s attractive—you’d have to be blin
d not to notice that—but the magnetic pull that’s drawn me to him since we started high school is gone. Which is a good thing, because Treich has us doing another experiment.

  “Today we’re exploring how different compounds react to different stimuli,” Treich says. “You and your partner will write down your hypothesis for each combination before you mix them, then note the actual effects afterwards. One person from each team, grab a tray.”

  “I’ll go.” Evan’s out of his seat and crossing the room before I can say thank you. He returns with a tray with two racks of test tubes. They each have half an inch of liquid in the bottom, but the first rack is all clear, while the second has three clear, one yellow, and a deep magenta that’s so gorgeous I can’t help but hold it up to the light.

  “The clear set is Compound A.” Treich holds up his own rack. “You’ll be adding compounds from the second set to them. Turn set two so the pink is on the right. We’ll be doing that one last.” A mischievous smile brightens his face. I love that he still gets a kick out of this after however many years he’s been teaching. If whatever I end up doing brings me that much joy, I’ll consider myself lucky.

  Evan arranges the sets so Compound A is closer to us and set two is behind it, pink on the right.

  Irritation burns through me at his assumption that I can’t do anything on my own.

  “Now take a minute to discuss possible outcomes for the first combination. It could be a number of changes—color, odor, or other physical characteristics.”

  Evan adjusts his notebook and looks at me for the first time since class started. The bags under his eyes are gone and he looks like his normal self. I start to smile but he’s all business. “There’s probably gonna be a color change, and since he mentioned odor, you know one’s going to smell.”

  “My guess is rotten eggs. Don’t you remember last year when the entire school smelled like that? I heard it was from this class.”