1 // I stumbled on a rock that was barely sticking up, my legs were that tired. Flailing for balance, with the pack working against me, I slipped in the mud and almost went down. I still couldn''t believe this was really happening. I couldn''t believe my dad had done this to me. For five days Al had been leading us into the most rugged corners of the San Juan Mountains in southwestern Colorado, coaxing and pushing us over the passes and into the peaks, through good weather and bad weather, mostly through bone-freezing rain and sleet. "October in the mountains," Al said with a grin. "You live a whole lot closer to the edge." The going was always either straight up or straight down-we rarely followed trails.
There were eight of us, four guys and four girls including me, all serving nine weeks in this outdoor education school from hell. Al called his program Discovery Unlimited, but we called it Hoods in the Woods, the name we inherited from the previous waves of misfits who''d come through the place. Al kept us marching all day under heavy packs, grinding us down in preparation for . for what? He would never say when you asked him. He''d only reply with a wink or a knowing grin. Hike, freeze, starve, break out the ropes and carabiners and risk your life every day-for what? "Just a mile till camp, guys," Al said. "Think about a sunny day." I couldn''t.
I could see nothing but the frightening dark tunnel that was my future. I saw no images there, no hopes, only blackness. All my happy images lay in the past, all the happy scenes with my dad when it was just the two of us. I tried to dwell on the good times as I walked, but those pictures, those voices, only intensified my feeling of loss and left me staring once again into that black tunnel. "How''s it going?" Suddenly Troy was walking at my side. "Okay, I guess." "You don''t look so happy." "I''m ready to be in camp.
When Al says a mile, you know it''s two or three." "It''s part of his charm." We jumped a little creek and started up a steep slope. Soon neither of us had enough breath to speak, but thinking about Troy took my mind off me. He seemed much older than the rest of us, just from the way he carried himself. It was like he was sizing up this whole situation from the outside. I''d been wondering if he was going to be friendly, and now it seemed he was. Camp at last.
I found a dry spot under a tree and eased my back against its trunk. Troy sought me out and sat cross-legged, up close. "Does the climbing scare you, Jessie?" He was looking at me with the calmest and clearest blue eyes I''d ever seen. "Yes," I allowed, looking away. "I thought so." He said it knowingly, in a way that promised help. When I looked back to his eyes, they kind of locked onto mine and wouldn''t let go. Apparently he never needed to blink, and he wasn''t going to look away.
His eyes seemed to be challenging me to . to what? "I''m doing okay so far." His eyes let me go. For now, I thought. I was fascinated by him. Someone was yelling that he was supposed to be one of the cooks. Troy reluctantly unwound his long legs and said, "Catch ya later." We drew in close to the campfire that night, putting off as always the moment when we''d have to get into our freezing bags and face the shivering hours of the night.
We knew Al would make his speech about the next day and of course he did, as he poked the fire. "We''ve got the climbing skills down now, guys-it''s time for a true test. After that we''ll head back to base camp for hot showers, real food, and our beds." I pictured the little log cabin that I shared with Star, and how good it would be to stoke the potbellied stove until the stovepipe turned red. So what was this big test going to be? "Tomorrow," Al announced, "you''re going to climb Storm King Peak, elevation thirteen thousand, seven hundred fifty-two feet. And it''s no puppy. You''ll know you''ve accomplished something. We''ll draw straws this evening for climbing partners.
Troy, you''re going to be the navigator-you haven''t led yet." "Nothin'' against Troy," Rita said in her nasal, right-at-you New York accent, "but if this Storm King is such a big deal, why not let Freddy lead? We know he''s good at it." I glanced over at Freddy. The campfire light flickering on his deep brown skin, black eyes, and shaggy black hair revealed, as usual, nothing in the way of response. True, I thought, he''s capable, but he''s practically mute. I''d much rather follow Troy. I had reason to believe that Troy cared whether I lived or died. Al was shaking his head emphatically as he spread the topographic map out on the ground.
"Troy will do just fine. He''s your leader for the climb. Star, you''re shivering-come into the light and warm yourself up. Folks, everybody needs to develop these skills, every one of you. Sometimes there isn''t going to be anybody else around." "But we travel in a pack," Adam pointed out with his trademark mischievous grin. Our redhead loved nothing better than sidetracking a conversation. "So whoever''s going to lead can study the map and the rest of us followers can go to bed.
" "Seconded," said Pug, the Big Fella, stretching one giant leg out toward the fire and nudging a piece of wood into its center. Al scratched behind an ear, amid the wiry gray hair that stuck out beneath his wool cap. He was rocking slightly on his haunches; he preferred to squat rather than pull up a log or a rock. He reminded me in his body language of an aborigine or a tribesman from the Amazon, right out of one of the slide shows my dad used in his anthropology classes. "Sometimes," Al said slowly, "sometimes self-reliance is the key to survival, but other times cooperation is. Let''s everybody study this map, and then tomorrow, on the mountain, we''ll pool our knowledge. Whenever somebody''s wondering if you''re doing the right thing, bring it up with Troy." "What if the right thing, the way we figure it, would be to go into Silverton for burgers?" suggested Adam.
Everyone had a smile or a laugh, including Al. With Adam, there was never anything at stake. He was so easy. I could sense Heather getting ready to object, and I braced myself for her voice, which I found jarring and oddly mismatched with her broad shoulders. When she thought something was unfair, which was most of the time, her voice rose even higher than its usual pitch and her speech came out squeaking and gasping, because she couldn''t talk and breathe at the same time when she was upset. "What I don''t get is, we can all cooperate on the climb, right, except for you, Al. You won''t help us at all, right?" "That''s what this is all about, Heather-you guys have the skills now. You make the decisions, you make the choices, you live by the consequences.
You''ll be on your own. I''ll just tag along for the scenery." Troy, I noticed, was attending to all this. Watching, listening, but withholding comment. Everybody was looking to him, including Al. Troy was a heavy, and everybody knew it. We were all wondering when he''d take Al on, but he was holding back. When Heather saw that Troy wasn''t going to respond, she said in that voice like an abused violin string, "You say we get to make the decisions, but really we''re just puppets, and you''re manipulating us.
I don''t like your rules, Al. I can''t accept that you get to make them all up. Who gave you that right?" That''s telling him, I thought. That''s exactly how I feel. This guy reminds me of my dad. "Right on, sister!" thundered Pug, who was only half listening, his attention focused as usual on his biceps. Despite the cold, he was wearing a T-shirt cut off at the shoulders, and was admiring the firelight''s reflection on his muscles. Without thinking about it, he proceeded to punch Troy playfully in the arm.
Maybe it was Pug''s way of showing gratitude to his buddy for bestowing his nickname, the Big Fella. "Why don''t you blow your whistle, Heather?" suggested Adam with his wide ironic grin. "Blow your whistle, loud and clear." When you blew your whistle it meant you wanted out, it meant you were going home. I''d been wondering all week when somebody was going to do it. I''d sure thought about it, about getting out of this place. But I figured out why I hadn''t done it: Aside from not wanting to be first, I would have had to face what I''d be going back to. Was there "home" back there for any of us? I could only answer for myself.
As for the others, their lives were mysteries. We were as far apart as galaxies in the night sky. Star and I shared a cabin back at base camp, yet I had little sense of what kept her going. She seemed so frail, I''d have guessed she''d be the first to blow her whistle. If the last week had been torture for me, what must it have been for her? Some stayed up into the night, talking by the firelight-Heather, Rita, Adam, and Pug-and the rest of us either listened without comment or tuned out. Star was in a trancelike state, and I was far away in my mind, reliving an awful day less than two weeks past that was a wound I was sure would never stop bleeding. I was back in my bedroom upstairs in my house, the same bedroom that was mine even before my mother died back when I was five, and there was only an hour to go before Dad said we had to leave for the airport. I was looking at all my kid stuff, clutching my timeworn teddy that I''d named Pistachio for no particular reason when I was little.
I was trying to lose myself in the old photograp.