by Jane Kelley
Trail Blaze Betty gives Arp a pat. “We’d be honored to have you both at our next meeting. Oh! I almost forgot!” She digs around in her pack. I’m hoping she has more brownies. But she pulls out a book and hands it to me. It’s my copy of My Side of the Mountain.
“I found it by one of your campsites. Figured you left it behind by mistake.”
The mistake was not throwing it further! But I’m glad to have the book back. I flip past a few pages. I see sketches of plants I could have eaten and a drawing of how to carve a fishhook. I stick the book in my backpack. My trip didn’t turn out so bad without it. But when I go with my hiking club, I’ll bring the book so we’ll know what to do.
Then a light shines on me like I’m doing something I shouldn’t.
“Is that you? Megan Knotts?”
It’s the Ranger. I know my trip is over and my family is on its way, but I still don’t like being caught. I scrunch down and turn my face away from the light. Then the light shines on Trail Blaze Betty.
“Are you all right? Who’s that with you?”
The Ranger sounds suspicious, so I stand up to explain. “It’s Trail Blaze Betty. She looks after the Appalachian Trail.”
“Come on out of there,” the Ranger says.
I can’t see him very well because the light is still shining in my face, but he sounds mad. “It’s okay. I called my parents. We’re just waiting for them.”
“Your parents contacted the State Patrol, and they contacted me. You need to wait for them in my car.”
I don’t want to wait in a car. I want to enjoy my last moments in the Woods. “Oh no, we’re fine here. Thanks just the same.”
“I want you in the car. Right now. Before anything else happens.”
I’m getting a very bad feeling. But I can’t argue with the Ranger. I pick up my backpack. I call to Arp. I push out through the bushes. Trail Blaze Betty comes too. The Ranger opens the car door.
“Want me to wait with you?” Trail Blaze Betty shifts from foot to foot.
I can see that she’s really uncomfortable. I don’t like the way the Ranger is staring at her. I’m afraid she’ll get in trouble. And I don’t want that to happen. “It’s okay. You better find someplace to camp.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can bunk down in the shelter over there.”
She points to another stone building behind the store.
“That’s a shelter?” I say. It looks a million times better than the one she built.
She grins like she knows what I’m thinking. “You bet. But it fills up fast, so if you’re all right, I better make sure they’ve got space for me.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Good-bye, then. Good job. See you at that meeting!” She pats Arp.
I’m wondering, Do hikers hug? Or do they just sort of bump backpacks?
“Thank you. For everything,” I say.
She shakes my hand again. I watch her walk away until her crazy orange hat and her bent legs disappear around the side of the building.
I kind of wish I could go with her. The Ranger is making me nervous. And then I hear sirens wailing in the distance.
“What’s that all about?” I say. But I know. They’re coming for me.
“You had a whole lot of people worrying about you,” the Ranger says.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
The sirens get louder and closer. Arp barks as a whole parade of vehicles swoop up the road. Now I really want to run away. But I can’t. I have to face what I’ve done.
There are two police cars, an ambulance, and a news van. At first I think, WOW! I’m going to be on TV! Now Patricia Palombo can’t brag about the time the back of her head was on the six o’clock news when she was a snowflake in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
I take off my hat. Then I put it back on and pull it down over my eyes. Maybe the hat looks dumb, but my hair must look a whole lot worse. Besides, I don’t want to explain why I did it to anybody but Lucy. So I pick up Arp and get in the Ranger’s car.
The Ranger stays outside.
The cars stop. Even brighter lights practically blind me. People run toward the Ranger’s car, shouting. “Megan, where were you? How did you get here from Vermont? Are you all right, Megan?”
Lights flash as people take my picture in the car. Somebody wheels out a stretcher. I start to laugh about it, except it reminds me of how worried everybody must have been.
Arp is barking like crazy, so I can hardly hear what the Ranger is saying. But eventually the Ranger and the police get the reporters to line up to wait for my family.
I get out the book. Holding it makes me feel a little less nervous.
Finally I see my family’s car drive up. It stops on the far side of the grass. Mom gets out. She stands there, peering at all the other cars, searching for me in the spinning red lights. The camera lights blaze on her face. She looks so worried, not being able to see me.
I get out of the Ranger’s car. I’m going to run to her. But suddenly, after all that hiking, my legs don’t want to work anymore.
It doesn’t matter. She runs to me and grabs on to me like she’s never going to let me go. Dad and Ginia are right behind her. The reporters start to close in, but the police keep them back.
We’re all hugging and crying. Now I don’t have to worry anymore about my tears wasting water. Arp barks and jumps against my legs. I pick him up so he won’t feel so short and left out. But he keeps barking. I’m glad he’s talking, because I don’t know what to say. Hiking the Trail seems so much easier than watching my mom cry.
“I’m so sorry. I know you were worried. I left you notes. Did that girl send the e-mail?”
Mom nods.
“You could have called. Why didn’t you call?” Dad’s voice cracks. He’s actually shaking he’s so upset.
“But I couldn’t call.” I’m about to make a dumb excuse like, You didn’t give me a cell phone. That’s what the old Megan would say. Now that I’ve stopped hiking and I’m with my family again, maybe the old Megan will come back. And maybe the yucky voice will come back too.
Mom reaches over to take Arp from me. She holds him on his back in her arms like he’s her baby again. Only he’s not; he’s my Loyal Dog. So I take Arp out of her arms and put him on the ground. Then I stand up straighter, like I’m on top of the monument, and I say, “I couldn’t call because you would have stopped me from hiking. And I had to do something. On my own. Like you’re always telling me to.”
“We never told you to run away,” Dad says.
So I give him the book. Then he frowns and looks at Mom, who shakes her head.
“I know it was terrible to make you worry. I know you’re probably going to ground me. But Arp and I did an amazing thing.”
Then they all look at me like they’re seeing me for the first time. Which is really kind of true, because they haven’t ever seen this Megan before.
“Yes, you did an amazing thing,” Dad says.
“But you are going to be grounded,” Mom says.
I nod. Actually I’m so exhausted that I won’t mind staying home for a while.
“And you’ll have to make reparations to all those people who spent all that time searching for you,” Dad says.
I sigh just thinking of all the poems I’ll have to write.
“And help us pay them back. Helicopters cost a lot, you know,” Mom says.
I swallow. I’m afraid to ask how much. Since I don’t get that big of an allowance, I could be in debt for the rest of my life.
Then Ginia says, “I’ll help pay.”
“You will?” I can’t believe it. Ginia NEVER loans me money, not even for just ten minutes when we’re at the corner deli and I forgot to bring a dollar for ice cream.
Then she starts crying. “It’s my fault that you got lost. I never should have said those things about Lucy. I never should have let you out of my sight. I should have looked for you right away. But I wanted to be with Sam. So I convinced myself you had
gone back and left with Mom and Dad.”
I wish the cameras were rolling, because Ginia has never apologized to me before in her whole life. Then I’m glad they’re not; her eyes are so red and puffy that she looks pretty awful.
“It’s okay.” I can’t be mad at her when everything turned out great.
Ginia hugs me and I hug her. For the first time in practically forever, I’m glad I have a sister.
Dad goes to talk to the police. Then the reporters surround us. Cameras flash. Microphones hover over our heads. “Just a few questions. Megan, are you all right?”
“I feel great,” I say.
“Did you really walk here all the way from Vermont?” a reporter says.
“Yes,” I say. Then I think of Trail Blaze Betty and how I can get in a commercial for the Appalachian Trail. “Actually, no.”
“You got a ride?” a reporter says.
“Did you hitchhike?” another reporter says.
“Then you were kidnapped?” another reporter says.
“No! I didn’t walk. I hiked! Hiking is a great thing to do. Anybody can do it. Old people, young people, little dogs, everybody should hike the Appalachian Trail!”
“Everybody should hike with their parents,” Mom says.
“With their parents,” I say.
“Mrs. Knotts, you must be so glad to have your daughter back.”
“I am. But Megan is really exhausted. We need to get her home so she can have a nice bath and a good night’s sleep.”
Mom hasn’t changed one bit. She and Ginia walk over to Dad and the car. But I don’t follow them. I stand there and Arp stays with me.
“What’s wrong, Megan?” Mom says.
“I want to finish my trip,” I say.
“Were you going all the way to Georgia?” Ginia says.
“I was going to see Lucy.”
“Lucy? Who’s Lucy?” the reporters buzz.
I don’t answer. I can’t call her my best friend until she forgives me.
“It’s so late, Megan. I really think it would be better if you wait,” Mom says.
“I can’t wait. I came all this way for her. I climbed this mountain for her and her mom.”
“For Alison?”
“To show her that you have to keep trying. Even if you get sick again and the news is bad and it starts to rain, you have to keep trying.”
I know I’m not making any sense. But I keep talking because I can’t believe Mom is still walking to the car. Isn’t she listening at all?
“Mom, why can’t we go tonight?” Ginia says.
But Mom doesn’t listen to her either. She gets in the car.
I talk louder so she can hear me. Now I’m almost shouting. “The only way to fail is to quit and you never ever want me to quit, do you?”
Then Mom gets out of the car and hands me the shiny silver cell phone. “You better call Lucy and tell her that you’re coming over. We should have called her before. She’s been so worried about you too.”
I hug Mom. Then we all get in the car. I give Mom back the phone so she can call. I’m too full of feelings to talk. After Mrs. T. finishes shouting for joy, Mom gets directions. It isn’t very far. We drive down the winding mountain road in silence. I can tell my family has a thousand questions. But I’m grateful they save them for later.
Dad turns onto a long, curving driveway. I ask him to stop so Arp and I can walk up that last little hill.
The house is dark except for one light outside and a blue TV light in a downstairs window. Lucy is waiting for us on the front porch.
When she sees us, she comes running. But before she can put her arms around me, I say, “Wait! I want you to know I’m sorry that I got mad at you for wanting to practice saving people and I’m sorry I ate the egg-salad sandwich.”
“It’s okay, Megan.” Lucy tries to hug me again. But I hold up my hand.
“Let me finish. Please? Okay. I’m sorry that I wasn’t more understanding when you couldn’t come to Vermont and I’m sorry that I complained about my slimy hair when you were waiting for the doctor to call.”
“Can I hug you now?”
I think for a minute. I’m probably forgetting something. But I don’t want to keep saying sorry forever, so I just say, “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend when you were worrying about your mom. Do you forgive me?”
“Oh, Megan.”
Then she hugs me. I hear a sniffing sound. Is she crying? Or is she trying not to smell me? “I did go swimming. Once. But I probably really stink.”
“I bet it kept the bugs away.”
Good old Lucy, always looking on the bright side.
“How’s your mom?” I say.
“Okay,” Lucy says.
But she always said that, even when Alison wasn’t. So I say, “I mean really. What did the doctor say?”
“It’s good news. So far, they haven’t found any more bad spots.”
“That’s great!” I say.
Lucy nods. “We’re keeping our fingers crossed.”
I’m so happy I hug Lucy again.
Then Mrs. T. comes out onto the porch and joins our hug. “Here’s our hero. Our inspiration!”
“You know, when your mom called after they found your note, and they said you were hiking, we couldn’t believe it. I mean, no offense, Megan, but …,” Lucy says.
“I know, I know. I never used to want to walk anywhere,” I say.
“If the theater was more than two blocks from the restaurant, you always wanted to take a taxi,” Mrs. T. says.
“I know, I know,” I say.
“But look at you now,” Mrs. T. says.
I hope they aren’t looking at me too closely. “It’s a good thing it’s dark because you would NOT believe my hair. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to comb it.”
“You’re a real Nature Girl,” Lucy says.
We all laugh, but I can tell she’s proud of me. And that makes me happy.
“Where’s your family?” Mrs. T. says. “Don’t they want to come in?”
“They’re waiting down there in the car. It’s so late, they thought Alison would be asleep.”
“She is. But I’ll go say hello to them. If you can hike up Mount Greylock, I guess I can manage this hill.” Mrs. T. walks down the driveway.
“You’re probably really tired,” Lucy says.
“Yes. I am.”
I know it’s time for us to leave. Only I still have so much to tell Lucy. And I know I won’t be allowed to call her. I wasn’t even through being punished for almost killing the Hundred-Year-Old Maple. Who knows what kind of consequences I’ll get for making everybody worry.
But I have to be brave about saying good-bye. “I’ll write you, okay? I’ll send you the pictures I drew on the Trail. Then, in September, we’ll be back at school together—if we’re not in different classes again. You can join my new hiking club—if you aren’t in knitting club with Patricia Palombo. We can always see each other after school—if there isn’t too much homework in seventh grade.”
It’s all sounding worse and worse.
Then Lucy says, “While you were gone, I got so worried about you. I was talking about it to this social worker who’s always really nice to us, and not just because it’s her job. Anyway, I told her how I was supposed to visit you, but I never felt like I could leave my mom for even a second. That if I did leave her, she would get sicker.”
“You don’t have to explain. I understand all that now. I shouldn’t have been bugging you about it. I was wrong and selfish.”
Lucy grabs my arm. “Let me tell you what the social worker said. She told me lots of kids feel responsible. But they didn’t make their parents get sick. How could they? They’re just kids. And kids are supposed to have fun. My mom completely agreed. In fact, she’d been feeling guilty that her cancer was ruining my summer. And feeling guilty isn’t good for her. She says the best way I can help her get better is to have fun.”
“That’s great!” I’m glad that Lucy
can enjoy the rest of her summer. She actually looks like the good old Lucy. She’s smiling and her head is tilted to one side, like it always does whenever she’s thinking of a fabulous adventure. I get a little sad that we can’t have it together.
“Well?” she says.
She’s waiting. Only I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. We stand there for a little while. Then I say, “Well, good-bye.”
I hug her one last time and start down the driveway. I hear her run up the porch steps and then run back down the steps to catch up to me.
“Here, Nature Girl.” She hands me her backpack.
“What’s this?” I say.
“My pajamas, my toothbrush, my Calvin and Hobbes book, my turquoise hoodie, and four changes of clothes,” she says.
Then I get it. I start jumping up and down. Arp gets excited and jumps too. “You mean you’re coming with us right now?”
“Yes. If you’re going in the car. I don’t think I can hike all the way back to Vermont.”
I hug Lucy. Together we each grab one strap of the backpack and run down the little hill to the car. We run so fast, the backpack sails up in the air. It’s like we’re flying up and around the tower on top of Mount Greylock. Like nothing can stop us, so long as we’re together.
Dad and Mom and Ginia are all outside the car talking to Mrs. T. Lucy and I are running too fast to put on the brakes, so we crash into everybody.
“Mom! Dad! Can Lucy come? I know I’m grounded, but maybe she could be grounded with me? And our punishment can be hiking and no TV and extra ART time?”
Dad and Mom laugh. But then they get serious.
“I don’t know,” Dad says.
“You still need some consequences,” Mom says.
Of course, not being with Lucy is the worst consequence of all. But there is something that would be almost as bad.
“What if …” I pause; I’m not sure I want to suggest this. “What if I only eat tofu the whole rest of the summer?”
“That’s not a punishment,” Mom says.
“Oh yes it is!” the rest of us say.
Mom shakes her head. “You better think of something else.”
Then I tell them about my idea for starting a hiking club and keeping the Trail clean like Trail Blaze Betty does. Mom likes the sound of that.