Black Ice
Page 3
You took off for eight months, I thought snidely. And broke up with me on the most important night of my life. Jesus said forgive, but there's always room for an exception.
I said to Mason, "By the way, Daddy wants to have you over for dinner next week."
Calvin made a strangled noise. Once, when he'd brought me home five minutes after curfew, we'd pulled into the driveway to see my dad standing on the porch tapping a golf driver in his palm. He'd marched over and smacked it against Calvin's black Ford F-150, leaving a nice round crater. "Next time you bring her home late, I'll aim for the headlights," he'd said. "Don't be stupid enough to need three warnings."
He hadn't meant it, not really. Since I was the baby of the family and the only girl, my dad had a grouchy streak when it came to the boys I dated. But actually, my dad was a lovable old bear. Still, Calvin never broke curfew again.
And never once had he been allowed to come to dinner.
"Tell your dad I could use a few more fly-fishing tips," Mason said, continuing to hold up our charade. Miraculously, he'd also correctly guessed my dad's favorite sport. This entire encounter was starting to feel . . . eerie. "Oh, and one more thing, Britt." He combed his hand through my hair, pushing it off my shoulder. I held perfectly still, his touch freezing my breath inside me. "Be safe. Mountains are dangerous this time of year."
I gawked with amazement at him until he pulled out of the gas station and drove off.
He knew my name. He'd saved my butt. He knew my name.
Granted, it was printed across the chest of my purple orchestra-camp tee, but Calvin hadn't noticed that.
"I thought you were lying," Calvin told me, looking stupefied.
I handed Willie a five for my Slurpee and pocketed the change. "As satisfying as this conversation has been," I told Calvin, "I should probably go do something more productive. Like key that Bimmer of yours. It's too pretty."
"Just like me?" He waggled his brows hopefully.
I filled my cheeks with Slurpee, miming that I intended to spit it at him. He jumped clear and, to my satisfaction, erased his cocky grin at long last.
"See you tonight at Idlewilde," Calvin called after me as I pushed out of the store.
By way of answer, I gave him a thumbs-up.
My middle finger would have been too obvious.
As I passed Calvin's BMW in the parking lot, I noticed the doors were unlocked. I glanced back to make sure he wasn't watching, then made a split-second decision. Climbing through the passenger door, I knocked his rearview mirror out of alignment, dribbled Slurpee on the floor mats, and stole his vintage CD collection from the glove box. It was a petty thing to do, but it made me feel a smidge better.
I'd give the CDs back tonight--after I'd scratched a few of his favorites.
CHAPTER TWO
A few hours later, Korbie and I were on the road. Calvin had taken off before us, and I had Korbie to blame. When I'd rung her doorbell, she had been packing yet another bag, languidly pulling shirts from her closet and handpicking lipsticks from her cosmetics case. I'd sat on her bed, trying to speed things up by stuffing everything into the bag.
I'd really hoped to beat Calvin to Idlewilde. Now he'd get first dibs on a bedroom, and his stuff would be spread around the cabin by the time we arrived. Knowing him, he'd lock up behind himself and force us to knock, like guests. Which was infuriating, since this was our trip, not his.
Korbie and I had the top down, to enjoy the warmth of the valley before the cold mountain air hit. We had the music cranked. Korbie had made a mixtape for the trip, and we were listening to that song from the--seventies? eighties?--that went, "Get outta my dreams, get into my car." Calvin's smug face was still floating around in the back of my mind, and it was bothering me. I firmly believed in the adage "Fake it till you make it," so I pasted on a smile and giggled as Korbie tried to hit the high notes.
After a quick stop for more Red Bull, we left behind the horse pastures and green farmlands, with tidy rows of corn seedlings whizzing by in a blur, and climbed to higher elevation. The road narrowed, lodgepole pines and quaking aspens crowding up against the shoulders. The air rushing through my hair felt cool and clean. White and blue wildflowers burst from the ground, and the world smelled sharp and earthy. I bumped my sunglasses higher on my nose and grinned. My first trip without my dad or my big brother, Ian. No way was I going to let Calvin spoil it. I wasn't going to let him ruin my mood on the drive, and I wasn't going to let him ruin my week in the mountains. Screw him. Screw him, and have fun. It seemed like a good mantra for the week.
The sky was such a dazzling blue it hurt my eyes, the sun glinting off the windshield as we came around a bend. I blinked to sharpen my vision, and then I saw them. The white glacial horns of the Teton Range jutting up in the distance. Sharp, vertical peaks soared into the sky like snow-tipped pyramids. The view was mesmerizing and overwhelming--the sheer vastness of trees, slopes, and sky.
Korbie leaned out the window with her iPhone to take the best shot. "I had a dream last night about that girl who was killed by drifters in the mountains last summer," she said.
"The white-water rafting guide?" Macie O'Keeffe. I remembered her name from the news. She was really smart and had a full ride to Georgetown. She disappeared sometime around Labor Day.
"Aren't you freaked out something like that could happen to us?"
"No," I said sensibly. "She went missing really far from where we'll be. And there was no proof that drifters killed her. That's just what everyone assumes. Maybe she got lost. Anyway, it's too early for drifters to be camping by the river. Plus, we'll be up in the mountains, where the drifters don't go."
"Yeah, but it's kind of creepy."
"It happened last summer. And it was only one girl."
"Yeah? What about Lauren Huntsman, the socialite who was on every news channel last year?" Korbie argued.
"Korbie. Stop it. Seriously. Do you know how many thousands of people come to the mountains and make it home safely?"
"Lauren disappeared very close to where we'll be," Korbie insisted.
"She disappeared from Jackson Hole, miles from where we'll be. And she was drunk. They think she waded into a lake and drowned."
"On the news they said people saw her leave the bar with a cowboy in a black Stetson."
"One person saw that. And they never found the cowboy. He probably doesn't exist. If we were in any danger, my dad wouldn't have let me come."
"I guess," Korbie said, sounding unconvinced. Thankfully, a few minutes later she seemed to have shed her apprehension. "T minus two hours and we'll be roasting marshmallows at Idlewilde!" she cheered at the blue dome of sky.
The Versteegs had owned Idlewilde as long as I could remember. It was more of a lodge than a cabin in the woods. Three stone chimneys jutted from a gabled rooftop. Idlewilde had six bedrooms--seven if you counted the sofa bed in the basement next to the foosball and pool tables--a wraparound deck, a stunning bank of south-facing windows, and nooks and crannies galore. While the Versteegs occasionally spent Christmas at Idlewilde--Mr. Versteeg had his pilot's license and had bought a single-engine helicopter to get up the mountain, since most roads were snow-packed and closed until springtime--they used it almost exclusively as a summer home, and had installed an apron of lawn with a hot tub, badminton court, and fire pit nestled between lounge chairs.
Two Christmases ago, I'd spent my vacation at Idlewilde with Korbie's family, but not this past Christmas. Calvin had gone to the home of one of his college roommates for the holiday, and Korbie and her parents had gone skiing in Colorado, leaving Idlewilde vacant. I'd never visited Idlewilde without Mr. and Mrs. Versteeg. I couldn't picture it without Mr. Versteeg's watchful eye following us like a shadow.
This time, it was just us kids. No adults and no rules. A year ago, being alone with Calvin for a week would have seemed forbidden and dangerous, a secret fantasy come true. Now I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know what I was supposed to say to him when we bumped
into each other in the hallway. I wondered if he was dreading this as much as I was. At least our first awkward run-in was out of the way.
"Do you have any gum?" Korbie asked, and before I could stop her, she opened my glove box and Calvin's CD collection tumbled out. She picked it up and eyed it quizzically. "Isn't this my brother's?"
I'd been caught; might as well own it. "I took it from his car this morning at the gas station. He was being a jerk. I was totally justified. Don't worry, I'll give it back."
"Are you sure you're okay with the whole Calvin thing?" Korbie asked, clearly finding it strange that I'd stolen his CDs. "He's just a butt-face to me, but I keep reminding myself that you guys were, like, together. Or whatever. We can talk about it as much as you want--just don't bring up kissing. The thought of anyone swapping spit with my brother, especially you, is vomit-inducing." She shoved her finger down her throat for emphasis.
"Totally over him." What a big fat lie. I was not over Calvin. The fake boyfriend I felt compelled to make up proved it. Before this morning, I really believed I'd moved on, but when I saw Cal, my repressed emotions had boiled to the surface. I hated that I still felt something for him, even if it was intense negative emotion. I hated that I was still giving him power to hurt me. I had so many bad memories inextricably linked to Calvin. Did Korbie not remember that he broke up with me the night of homecoming? I had a dress and dinner reservations at Ruby Tuesday, and I'd paid my and Calvin's portion of the limo rental. And I was up for homecoming queen! I had dreamed countless times of what it would feel like to stand on the football field wearing a crown, beaming as the crowd clapped and cheered, and how it would feel afterward, dancing in Calvin's arms.
We'd planned to meet at my house at eight, and when eight thirty rolled around with still no Cal, I actually worried he'd been in an accident. I knew his flight wasn't delayed--I'd tracked its progress online. The rest of our group had left in the limo, and I was on the brink of tears.
And then the phone rang. Calvin hadn't even left California. He'd waited until the last minute to call, and he didn't bother to fake an apologetic tone. In a smooth, unconcerned voice, he told me he wasn't coming.
"You waited until now to tell me?" I exclaimed.
"I've had a lot on my mind."
"This is so typical. You haven't called me in weeks. You haven't returned any of my calls in days." Calvin wasn't the same person since leaving for college. It was like he got a taste of freedom, and everything changed. I was no longer a priority.
"I should have known you'd do something like this," I snapped. I was trying so hard not to cry. He wasn't coming. I didn't have a date for homecoming.
"You're monitoring the frequency of my calls? I'm not sure how I feel about that, Britt."
"Seriously? You're making me out to be the creep? Do you know how much you're letting me down right now?"
"You're exactly like my dad, always whining that I'm not good enough," he said defensively.
"You're an asshole!"
"Maybe we shouldn't be in a relationship," he said stiffly.
"Maybe we shouldn't!"
The worst part was, I could hear loud music and sports broadcasts in the background. He was in a bar. I'd placed so many expectations on this night, and he was getting drunk. I slammed the phone down and burst into tears.
These memories were starting to make me grumpy. I really wished I didn't have to talk about Calvin. It was chipping away at my determination to keep a positive attitude. It would be much easier to fake happy if I didn't have to waste energy convincing the whole world that I was peachy, just peachy.
"It's not going to be weird with him around?" Korbie pressed.
"Don't be ridiculous."
She narrowed her eyes speculatively. "You're not going to use this opportunity to hook up with him again, are you?"
"Gross. Please never ask me that again." But the thought had occurred to me. It totally had. What if Calvin made a pass at me? It wasn't hard to imagine. Korbie and Bear would be all over each other. Which left Calvin and me. It wouldn't surprise me if he tried something. Which meant I had to decide right now if I was going to let him.
Maybe, if I thought he'd really moved on, I could forget about him. But the way he'd looked at me at the 7-Eleven? When I was flirting with Mason? If that wasn't regret, I didn't know what was.
But this time, I decided, I was going to make him work for my attention. He'd humiliated me, and he had a lot of making up for it to do. I wouldn't take him back until he'd sufficiently suffered. A little groveling with a cherry on top. Calvin knew I wasn't a cheater, which would work to my advantage. I'd have some fun with him and then dump him, claiming guilt over cheating on my fake boyfriend.
You know what they say about payback? Pretty soon, Calvin was going to know too.
Glad that I finally had a plan, I settled deeper into my seat, feeling smugly triumphant and ready for the long week ahead.
Korbie unzipped the CD case, but before she could flip through the CDs, she noticed a folded paper in the front of the case. "Wow, check this out."
I glanced sideways. She was holding a topographic map of Grand Teton National Park--the kind you get from a park ranger station--but this one had notes jotted everywhere in Calvin's handwriting. It folded in thirds, and then again in half, and the coloring was faded, the edges frayed. Calvin had clearly made good use of it.
"Calvin's marked all the best hiking trails," Korbie said. "Look how far he's hiked--there are notes everywhere. It must have taken him years to make this. I know I always teased him for being such an outdoor nerd, but this is kind of cool."
"Let me see." I took the map, flattening it to the steering wheel and glancing between it and the road. Calvin had marked more than hiking trails. The map was riddled with notes detailing snowmobile trails, unpaved roads, emergency shelters, a ranger station, scenic points of interest, hunting grounds, unpolluted lakes and streams, and wildlife crossings. Idlewilde was also marked. To a hiker stranded in the mountains, the map would be a useful survival tool.
We were still too far away to find our location on Calvin's map, but I was seriously considering trading it for Mr. Versteeg's inferior notes once we got closer.
"You definitely have to give Calvin the map back," Korbie insisted.
I refolded the map, tucking it into the back pocket of my shorts. A map this painstakingly detailed would be worth something to Calvin. I'd return it. But first I'd make him sweat a little.
Thirty minutes later, the mixtape came to an end with "Every Day Is a Winding Road" by Sheryl Crow. The road had steepened, and we zigzagged up the mountain on switchbacks. The shoulders of the road fell away sharply, and I leaned forward over the steering wheel, concentrating around each hairpin curve. One misguided turn would send us careering over the mountainside. The realization was as thrilling as it was heart stopping.
"Do those look like rain clouds to you?" Korbie asked, frowning as she pointed at a cluster of dark clouds sprouting above the treetops to the north. "How is that even possible? I checked the weather before we left. Idaho was supposed to get rain, Wyoming wasn't."
"It will pour for a couple minutes and then the sky will clear." If you don't like the weather in Wyoming, hang around five minutes. So the saying went.
"It had better not rain a single day we're up here," Korbie huffed with more indignation. I wondered if she was thinking about Rachel and Emilie sunbathing on Waikiki Beach. I knew how much Korbie had wanted to go somewhere tropical for spring break. I thought it said a lot about our friendship that she was with me now. We fought, sure, but we were solid. Not many friends would give up the beach for hiking in the mountains.
"I read in a guidebook that rain has something to do with the warm and cold air up here always bumping together," I murmured idly, keeping my eyes glued to the road. "At this altitude, water vapor can turn to ice, which has a positive charge. But rain has a negative charge. When the charges build up, they create lightning and we get a storm."
I let go of the steering wheel long enough to give her shoulder a shove. "You should have at least glanced at some of the guidebooks your dad bought you."
"You mean the guidebooks that taught me that a human can subsist on rabbit droppings if faced with starvation?" She wrinkled her nose. "That was the first and last time I picked up a guide. Anyway, reading a guidebook would have been a waste, since my brother will take charge and boss us around."
Calvin wasn't going to be in charge. Not this time. I hadn't trained this long and hard just to hand over control.
Soon after, the sky glowered a dark, dirty gray. The first drop of rain splashed like ice on my arm. Then another. Three more. In a matter of seconds, the rain was pattering down steadily, splattering the windshield with tiny pinpricks of water. I stopped the Wrangler in the middle of the road, since there was nowhere to pull off.
Korbie swatted the raindrops like they were mosquitoes.
"Help me put the top up," I said, jumping out. I raised the soft top, indicating that she should latch it down. Opening the tailgate, I unrolled the window and fastened the straps. By the time I finished, I was thoroughly wet, the hairs on my arms standing stiff from cold. I slicked water out of my eyes and zipped up the side windows. Finally, I secured the Velcro seam and leaped back inside the car with a violent shiver.
"There's your negative charge," Korbie deadpanned.
I pressed my cheek to the cold window and peered up at the sky. Violent gray storm clouds stretched in every direction. I could no longer see any blue, not even a crack of it on the horizon. I rubbed my arms for warmth.
"I should call Bear and give him the heads-up," Korbie said, speed-dialing him on her phone. A moment later she slumped back in her seat. "No phone service."
We'd only made it another couple of miles before the rain broke from the sky in a torrent. A stream of fast-moving water gushed down the surface of the road. Water splashed up over the tires and I worried about hydroplaning. The windshield wipers couldn't remove the water fast enough; the rain beat down so furiously, I couldn't see where I was going. I wanted to pull over, but there wasn't a shoulder. Instead, I steered as far to the right of my lane as I could, parked, and turned on my hazard lights. I hoped if anyone drove up behind us, they'd be able to see the lights flashing through the downpour.