Thirty Seven
The only revenge was to prove them all wrong. Or at least, that they, like home, had underestimated her. Yes, she might be what they thought. But she was more. And could be capable of more. Celine had seen that. Celine had climbed with her! She could go to damn France if Petra could.
Petra was right about one thing though: Money was an issue.
“You can always find money,” Jonah said, after rolling a blunt and listening to her vent as they sat on the granite couch, overlooking the Valley.
Rilla finished holding a tight breath of smoke before blowing it out and handing it back to Jonah. “Life doesn’t let me find jack shit.”
He rolled his eyes. “You sound hangry. Did you eat?”
“I ate,” she muttered, elbows on her knees. “I’m not going to care about this. I’m going to get revenge for this.”
“That sounds an awful lot like caring.”
She turned to him, eyes narrowed. “Well, you’re being super helpful.”
Jonah shrugged. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
She exhaled and looked out over the Valley. Everywhere she could see, she had memories of climbing with those people. Memories that felt ruined and tainted by what she’d overheard. “My mom said I could come home.”
“To West Virginia? I thought you didn’t want to go back?”
Rilla shrugged. “I miss it. Sometimes.
Jonah was quiet for a moment. He sniffed and looked away. “It’s shitty to hear the things we are afraid everyone is saying. And shitty that they didn’t think you were being honest. But I mean, have you talked to them about it?”
Rilla clenched her jaw. “I just thought. I thought this would be different.”
“People are shitty. Friends can be shitty. I don’t think it means they aren’t your friends. That’s certainly a better option than running home to West Virginia, don’t you think?”
Rilla was about to say something snotty in reply when the sound of a rock tumbling caught her attention.
They both froze and looked at each other.
What was that? Rilla furrowed her brow.
Jonah grimaced, looking worried.
It wasn’t that people didn’t know about the couch—most everyone in HUFF used it. It was that people announced themselves. One rock tumbling could be a squirrel. A coyote. A deer? A bear . . .
She crept over to the edge and peeked over the rock to look down the trail.
A tan Stetson stood at the bottom, waiting.
Or a Ranger Miller.
Shit. Shit. Shit. If he caught her up here smoking weed, he’d definitely be able to drag her back to Thea’s like AHA.
“COPS,” she mouthed to Jonah.
He looked confused and didn’t move.
She grabbed the stuff and chucked it as far into the trees as she could.
“Hey—” Jonah started to protest but she slapped a hand over his mouth and shushed him. Was that it? She patted his pockets just to be sure, pulling out an empty bag. Quickly, she put a rock inside and threw that too.
He made a squeak as it sailed to the ground.
“So, yeah,” she said, letting go and trying to sound casual as she sat back down beside him. Her hands trembled. “People are the worst,” she said.
He glared at her. “Yeah. They really are.”
“Good afternoon,” Ranger Miller interrupted, suddenly appearing over the top of the trail.
Thank god he’d bumbled the sneak up. Rilla tried not to look guilty as she turned over her shoulder and looked up at him. “Afternoon.”
“I smell some paraphernalia. Have you been smoking weed?”
“Nope.”
“It rises out of the Valley,” Jonah said.
She wanted to elbow him, but it’d be too obvious.
“Rilla, I think you should come with me anyway. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you up here alone with an older boy. Your sister would be upset.”
“What?” Rilla asked. “You can’t do that.”
“I’m doing it. Let’s go.”
Normally, she would have fought him. Dug her heels in. What did she care about getting in trouble? But with Thea’s future on the line, she didn’t want to risk it. “Fine,” she snapped.
“Rilla!” Jonah said.
“Be quiet now, son,” Ranger Dick Face said, like he was a parody of himself and learned his policing from watching The Dukes of Hazzard.
Jonah stood and crossed his arms, glaring at Dick Face.
“I’m going. It’s fine. I don’t want to get Thea in trouble,” Rilla said.
He nodded, still glaring.
“Let’s go, Di—” She swallowed. “Ranger Miller.”
“I’m keeping an eye on you. Don’t even think about running.”
“Oh my god, you can’t be serious,” Rilla said, starting down the steep, rocky path. Could this get any more ridiculous? Sighing, she followed Ranger Miller back to Half Dome Village, to his truck, where he told her to wait and called Thea.
She rolled her eyes and leaned against the truck. Now Thea would certainly be mad. Talk about making a mountain out of a molehill.
“I wasn’t smoking,” she shouted so Thea could hear her.
Ranger Dick Face glared at her and turned his back.
She should bolt. Old Rilla would have bolted. But she folded her arms tight over herself and stayed put. Some things were more important. Thea was more important. She tightened her grip on her ribs and closed her eyes, repeating it over and over.
“All right, she’s coming by for you.”
“You’re just trying to make something out of nothing.”
He shrugged. “I don’t think it was nothing. I think you were up there smoking weed with your friend.”
He was right. But it was unfair. She ducked her head and glared at the ground. “You’re a . . .”
“What?” he snapped. “Go ahead. Give me a reason.”
She practically bit her tongue off trying to keep it still in her head.
Thea showed up ten minutes later, ignoring her while assuring Miller she appreciated it.
“He’s an asshole. I wasn’t doing anything,” Rilla said, after he’d pulled off.
Thea shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
Rilla bit her lips tight.
“I have a final interview for the position next week. He’s just trying to get anything he can.”
“He must be feeling desperate,” Rilla said hopefully.
“Or just petty,” Thea said. “Just try to avoid him. Please.” Thea sighed. “I needed to tell you anyway, your meeting with the principal is Tuesday at nine A.M.,” Thea said.
“Wait. What?” Rilla froze. A red wash of panic came over her. “Why?”
“To see if you can be reinstated or if you have to repeat eleventh grade. Whatever you haven’t done, do it now.”
She had done nothing. Basically nothing. “I thought you were considering the GED?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I talked to you . . . like, a few weeks ago. About taking the GED—instead of school. I want to go to France. I want to get a real job and go to France to climb. Celine invited us.”
Thea didn’t speak. She just stared.
“I talked to—”
“Are you out of your mind?” Thea roared, full accent in her voice like Rilla hadn’t heard all summer.
“As a matter of fact, I’m not,” Rilla snapped. “But you seem not to have one this whole summer—at least when it comes to my existence.”
“France? Celine?” Thea yelled.
Rilla rolled her eyes. “Oh, great.” Thea was going to do the inexperienced climber thing again.
“What planet are you living on?” Thea said. “You aren’t going to France. You don’t even have a passport. And you weren’t supposed to be climbing—and what . . .” She sputtered and stopped. “What’s this about Celine. Celine Moreau?”
Rilla crossed her arms. “I climbed with her. She invited me to France along with Caroline. I’m a climber. A good one.”
Thea rubbed her face and groaned. “What? You have got to be lying.”
Why did everyone suddenly think she was lying? Rilla swallowed down a sick feeling. “I’m not. Ask Walker. Ask Caroline. Ask any—”
“I don’t know how to do this,” Thea interrupted. “I don’t know how to be a parent.”
“I don’t need a parent. I already have two.” There were no vacancies, despite the situation.
“An actual parent is what you need. For once in your life.”
The same horrible, shit-brown feeling crept over Rilla’s shoulders and tightened up her neck. Thea should be the one person, at least, who knew that her life wasn’t a ridiculous stereotype she needed to be saved from, even if it sounded that way. “You can sell that load of shit to everyone else about Mom, but you can’t sell it to me. I know the truth,” Rilla snapped.
“The truth?” Thea swung around to face her, black hair nearly blue in the shade and uncharacteristically wild around her face. “Mom’s chaotic, in and out of jail, unstable, addicted to a variety of substances including men, and does not see a problem with her lifestyle.” Her tone was serious. Intense. “She refuses to even acknowledge her own history. Or how much danger you were in.”
Rilla pulled back.
“Your dad’s got the IQ and reasoning skills of a golden retriever and we both know he just does whatever Mom does,” Thea continued. “Mine is the non-functioning addict. And as much as I understand you wanting to defend them, trust me when I say there’s nothing to defend.”
How could Thea say that? Had she forgotten how Thea’s dad, Marco, read stories and her dad, Tom, taught them to ride dirt bikes. How Lee encouraged them to live wild and unfettered, and to not give any mind to what others might say. How all three showed them how to live and love even planted in a place that kept trying to pluck or poison you out like some rampant weed? “You don’t know shit,” she seethed, too furious to even argue. “You can’t even see you’re just like her.”
Thea froze, her face white. “You know mom had a baby before us. I mean, she was pregnant—when Grandma kicked her out. Do you know what happened?”
Rilla froze.
“Her boyfriend beat the shit out of her and caused her to miscarry.”
Rilla’s stomach plummeted.
Thea leaned forward, wide-eyed. “Yep. And you know what? She went back to him.”
She didn’t want to hear this. Rilla closed her eyes, hating the sudden eruption of heat in her chest. “But she sent me here,” she whispered.
“I convinced her. Yes, she sent you. And it’s my job to do what she can’t do. You are not going to France. You will graduate high school, so help me god.”
Rilla’s face twisted, fighting the coming tears. “She left. She did the right things, in the end. She did the best she could.”
“In the end, sometimes it doesn’t matter,” Thea said. And she headed back to her post, leaving Rilla all alone again.
She could go home now. Mom had said, in August. Mom had said she could take the GED. All it would take was one phone call. Rilla could use the last bit of her money for the ticket. By that night, she could be on her way. It would solve everyone’s problems—Thea’s, Petra’s, Walker’s, everyone’s. Even hers.
Rilla lifted her chin to the view of El Capitan staring over the trees and her heart wrenched. She couldn’t leave. Not without trying The Nose. It was the thing she’d been working toward. The thing that mattered more to her than anything else. Somehow, she’d have to find a way to even the score and make them all wrong.
It came to her while setting aside Petra’s gear to return it. It went, money—copper tub—everyone said it was dumb to steal a copper tub because—watch!
Rilla would pawn that broken watch of Petra’s. Didn’t have the money. Couldn’t make it. Rilla pulled Petra’s gear into her bag, and slid down the ladder. She’d show her. Her heart raced and bolstered her courage.
•
Rilla waited with her bag between her knees on the boulder by Petra’s car until they arrived in the parking lot.
“Hey. I looked for you this morning.”
“I had some work,” Rilla answered, trying to seem at ease. As if nothing had changed. She picked up the bag. “Anyway, I wanted to get this to you, before I forgot.”
Petra took the bag and looked inside. “Are you going to have enough gear for The Nose?”
“Oh yeah. I’m good.” She’d been working nearly every day, and with some luck, duct tape, fishing line, and absolutely nothing going wrong, she thought she could manage.
Petra frowned. “You sure? You can totally keep these longer. It’s no big deal. I know you’re working. It takes time to build up a rack.”
“No.” Rilla swallowed. “I’m all good. I’ll be ready.”
“Two more weeks,” Adeena crowed. “I’m nervous already.”
“Two more weeks.” Rilla nodded. A pit in her stomach started. “And after that, France.”
Petra’s brow pinched, but she smiled and looked over. “Yeah. France.”
Rilla watched her go, her hand in her sweatshirt pocket to grip the gold watch she’d taken from the Grove. A stab of guilt cut through her stomach, but she swallowed it away.
Yeah, in France.