On Friday, my alarm goes off at six a.m. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and then look for something to wear. Rachael said because I’m not an official government employee that I can wear what I want as long as it’s clean and not too revealing.
I opt for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with the molecular structure of caffeine on it. Dallas had a shirt just like this. A ripple of sadness moves through me as I realize I’ve managed to go almost two days without thinking much about the accident. I’ve been focusing on finishing my finals and reading up on my Zion volunteer training materials, but still. It feels wrong.
I open my laptop to the wallpaper with the picture of us. “I’m wearing my caffeine shirt,” I tell him. “Remember when we got matching shirts together at the mall?”
You look good, Genna.
“Do I really?” I ask.
Well, I liked you better as a blonde, but brown hair is pretty too.
“Glad you approve,” I say with a wry grin.
Rachael knocks gently on the door to my room. “Gen? You on the phone?”
I shut the laptop. “Uh, yeah,” I call through the door. “Sorry. I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes.”
I pull my hair back in the same ponytail-and-thick-headband combo I had on when I was running. It covers up my bald spot, but unfortunately leaves the scar on my cheekbone visible. I try my best to camouflage it with a bit of concealer, but all I can manage is lightening the red line into a pink one. Frowning in the mirror, I reach for an eyeliner pencil. Maybe if I emphasize my blue eyes it’ll make people less likely to notice all my facial imperfections.
Rachael parks her National Park Service Jeep in the lot behind the Zion Canyon Visitor Center. We head inside, where she introduces me to a girl about the same age as me. She has the kind of skin that looks naturally flushed, and long, sandy blond hair that hangs over her shoulders in two thick braids. She’s dressed just like Rachael except for the tan cowboy boots peeking out from beneath the hem of her olive green workpants.
“This is Halley. She’s a student park guide, and this is her third summer as a Zion staff member,” Rachael says. “Today you can shadow her and help out at the pedestrian entrance station. You’ll also be with Clint—he’s a ranger. The two of them will get you acclimated so you know where everything is, both in the booth and in the layout of the park.”
“Sounds good,” I say, but I can’t bring myself to meet Halley’s eyes. I’ve just noticed what she’s wearing on her wrist—a black-and-white rubber piano key bracelet. “My name is Jen,” I add, before Rachael can mess up and introduce me as Genevieve.
“Nice to meet you, Jen,” Halley says. “Let’s get going.”
Halley and I leave the Visitor Center and follow the path to the entrance station, which vaguely resembles a tollbooth. The sun is already bright and hot. It’s going to be a scorcher of a day.
“Working the entrance station is a very important job,” Halley lectures as we pass several educational displays outside the Visitor Center. The Virgin River runs along the edge of the parking lot. The water is a greenish-gray color, and so shallow that rocks are poking through the surface. I read in my training material that the park’s most popular hike is called the Narrows, and this river is a trail that people can follow for miles. Halley clears her throat and I realize she caught me zoning out.
“Sorry. You were saying?” I swallow back a yawn and direct my full attention back to her. Well, three-fourths of my attention. Part of my brain is wondering where I can get a cup of coffee.
“One of the reasons rangers always work this booth is that we’re the first people visitors will interact with and we set the tone for their entire stay. If we come across as rude, disinterested, or unknowledgeable, it could affect their view of the entire National Park System.”
“Makes sense.” I want to do a good job for Rachael, so I listen closely as Halley runs down a list of issues that non-ranger employees should never try to answer on their own.
“Often, people will ask you if it’s safe for their grandma or their child to hike on such-and-such trail. It can be tempting to say yes. After all, it’s a national park, right? Of course it’s safe.” She pauses for a second and gestures up at the majestic cliffs. “But nature is unpredictable. A trail that’s safe one day might be treacherous the next. People die here sometimes. They fall, or they drown, and then their family members want to sue. So if anyone asks you if it’s safe to hike a trail, you’ll want to refer them to our trails specialists at the Visitor Center.”
“Got it,” I say.
Halley unlocks the booth that we’ll be spending the next several hours in together and shows me where I can set my purse. “I recommend bringing a water bottle,” she says. “Sometimes we do lots of talking.”
I gesture at my caffeine T-shirt. “Actually, what I need is coffee.”
“You can get a cup from the staff lounge at the Visitor Center,” Halley says. “You might want to run back over there now, before we get busy.”
“Okay. I can bring you a cup too if you want.”
“I don’t drink coffee,” Halley says.
“Really?” This time I can’t swallow back the yawn. I cover my mouth with my hand. “Sorry. I pretty much live on it.”
“I’m a Mormon. We’re not supposed to drink coffee.”
“Holy crap,” I say. “Er, sorry. I mean, wow. I knew Mormons weren’t supposed to drink or smoke, but I didn’t know they couldn’t have coffee. That’s harsh.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” she says, shrugging. “Go ahead and get yourself a cup so you don’t fall asleep. I’ll get set up in here and then we’ll go over everything once you’re back.”
I run over to the Visitor Center and get myself a cup of coffee from the staff lounge. Rachael is standing behind the Park Information desk, flipping through some kind of report.
“Did Halley drive you off already?” Rachael asks, smiling. “She can be kind of intense.”
“Oh, no, she seems nice. She recommended a water bottle and I realized I needed some coffee.”
“Ah, okay. Well. Have fun. And just so you know, I plan on putting you outside tomorrow, if you’re game. Halley was supposed to start helping me with a special project, but we had someone call in sick for the entrance station today, so it seemed like a good way to cover the post and help you get acclimated to where everything is.”
“Definitely,” I say. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
Rachael’s phone rings and she smiles a good-bye as she answers the call.
I return to the booth, where Halley has everything organized and ready to go. She gestures at a wall of maps and brochures, pointing out which ones are for Zion and which are for some of the other parks in the area. My eyes are drawn to one for a place called Bryce Canyon. The rock formations are even more breathtaking than what’s around me now.
Halley catches me looking. “Bryce is one of my favorite places. Have you been there?”
“I haven’t been anywhere in Utah except for here,” I say. “I’m spending most of the summer with my dad.”
“Oh, nice.” Halley logs on to the computer and checks the time. “Are you in high school or college or what?”
“I just graduated from high school. I’m going to be a college freshman in the fall.”
“Sweet. Me too.” She pulls a roll of white credit card tape from a low shelf and starts feeding it through the machine.
I watch her fingers work, my eyes once again being drawn to her black-and-white bracelet. I make a mental note to Google the bracelets later and see why they’re popping up everywhere. It has to be related to Dallas.
“Where are you going?” she adds.
Crap. This is another question I should have anticipated. Even though my craniotomy scar is hidden by my headband, I still have the scar on my cheekbone. If I tell her Wash U, will that be enough for her to put the pieces together?
“Northwestern,” I say. It’s a school that’s the same tier as Wash U and only one state away, so it’s not really a lie. I mean, it is, but I could have gotten accepted to Northwestern if I’d wanted, so it’s not like I’m lying to make myself look better.
I don’t know when I became a person who classifies lies as “lying” and “not really.” I always hated people who lied to me growing up. My parents did it for a little while about the divorce and it made me so angry. I guess they thought I couldn’t cope with the truth, so they tried to pretend everything was fine for as long as they could. And now here I am, lying to hide my identity. I’m not sure that’s any better.
Luckily I’m saved from this train of thought by Ranger Clint arriving. He’s a broad-shouldered guy about my dad’s age wearing a sheriff-style hat.
“Hey, Clint.” Halley waves.
“Hi,” I say.
“Morning, ladies,” he says. “Halley, who’s your friend?”
“This is Jen. She’s a new volunteer.”
“Is that so?” Clint extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jen.”
“Nice to meet you too.” I wrap my fingers around his and he pumps my arm up and down.
“Well, since there’s two of you in here, I’ll hang out outside for a bit and greet people as they arrive. Flag me down if you have any questions.”
“Will do,” Halley says brightly.
Clint heads outside and a couple of minutes later our first family arrives—a mom with two sons. Halley greets them and runs through the schedule of fees, pointing out that if they’re going to visit any of the other national parks nearby, it might be cheaper for them to buy an annual pass. The mom springs for the pass and Halley swipes their credit card and hands them a receipt.
Business stays steady for the next couple of hours. I’m impressed by the way Halley chats with the tourists—she manages to sound enthusiastic and young, yet completely professional.
When it’s time for our lunch break a few hours later, Clint steps inside the booth, followed by a second ranger, an Asian woman who introduces herself as Min. Halley and I grab our purses and slip out of the booth.
“You are really good with people,” I say, as we head back toward the Visitor Center. “Were you in student government or something?”
She shakes her head at me. “I’ve been homeschooled since seventh grade.”
“Seriously?” My voice rises in pitch. “People who say homeschooled kids struggle socially need to hang out with you for a while.”
Halley laughs. “My parents own the Springdale Family Kitchen. I guess you could say I’ve been unofficially in the customer service field since I was ten. But I’m also required to participate in one extracurricular activity at Hurricane High, where the other kids from Springdale go to school. Last year I joined the debate club.”
“Hurricane High.” I try to remember if Dad and I passed it on the drive from the airport. “Is that where Elliott goes?” I step inside the air-conditioned building and hold the door for her.
“How do you know Elliott?” Halley’s voice takes on a playful tone.
“I ran into him earlier in the week when I was running.”
“Ah. Yes, that’s where Elliott graduated from. He just finished his first year of college at Dixie State down in St. George. You’ll probably see him tomorrow if you’re working with me again. The two of us are supposed to break ground on a new trail project.”
“That’s sounds cool,” I say. It definitely sounds like something I’ve never done before.
Halley scoffs. “If you enjoy hard labor.” Then she smiles. “Just kidding. It’ll be fun. We’re actually working on creating a touch trail for kids. Rachael has been trying to get a budget for it for years and she finally got approval for the materials.”
“What’s a touch trail?”
“Kind of like the educational stuff around the Visitor Center, but with more stuff little kids can interact with. A lot of people bring small children here, but there’s not much geared for that age group.”
“Cool,” I say again. “Elliott is the only other person our age I’ve met besides you. Are there other teens working here?”
“Not so many who are park guides, but there are some high schoolers in the Junior Ranger Program and lots of college kids who work for Zion Lodge. Oh, and if you want to meet more people, you’re welcome to come to church with me some Sunday.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, wondering what Halley’s friends would think if she brought an atheist to Sunday services.
Rachael is still at the Park Information desk, along with another ranger who doesn’t look much older than Elliott. A couple my grandparents’ age are leaning against the counter, poring over a map that Rachael is pointing at.
“I’m not sure what you want to do for food,” Halley says. “I’ve got a packed lunch in the staff refrigerator, but if you want to buy food, the Zion Canyon Brew Pub is pretty good and right over there.” She points across the parking lot. “There’s also a market over there with sandwiches and stuff.”
“I think I’ll see what Rachael is doing. She’s actually my stepmom,” I say.
“Oh. I didn’t realize that.” Halley looks back and forth from Rachael to me. “Having divorced parents must be hard. But I guess if you have to have a stepmom, you hit the jackpot with Rachael. Everyone loves her around here.”
“This is my first time really getting to know her,” I say. “But I can see why she’s so well liked.”
The couple at the Park Information desk take the folded map Rachael offers them and head for the parking lot. Halley disappears into the staff lounge, leaving me to stare awkwardly at Rachael from across the counter.
“I was wondering what you were doing for lunch,” I say.
“I was going to invite you to lunch at the brew pub,” she says. “It’s got standard bar food—burgers, fries, soups, salads—but also some fancier choices if you’re feeling like pasta or steak. Sound good?”
I glance at my phone. “Is there time?”
“You’re a volunteer. You can take a few extra minutes if you need. And I have a radio, so if anything major comes up, Josh will let me know, right?” She glances at the ranger next to her.
“You know it.” Josh smiles at me before turning his attention to a pair of college girls who are clutching a copy of the Zion-Springdale Guide.
Rachael strolls around from behind the counter. Then the two of us head off to lunch.
It feels almost normal, which feels really strange.