Forty
“Sleeping beauty,” someone yelled.
Rilla peeled her eyes open to the bright sky. Fuck. She was soaked in sweat. Moaning, she pushed back her sleeping bag and sat up.
“Hey-o, one is awake.”
“Didn’t even have to kiss her.”
“Just from the power of your manhood that close, it woke her anyway.”
Rilla made a face and turned. A group of four climbers were hauling off the bolts that had been under a waterfall. The one looking at her, not hauling, wore a T-shirt on his head under his helmet. “Did y’all get caught in that storm last night?”
She rubbed her face and leaned against the wall, pushing her feet out over the edge of the portaledge. “Yeah. It was brutal.”
“I bet. Everyone okay?”
She looked to the other sleeping bags. “Yeah. We’re good. What time is it?”
He glanced at the watch on his wrist. He looked military maybe, now that she thought of it. “A little after one.”
She nodded. “Do you have a smoke?”
He laughed. “I think I can spare one for you. Hang on.”
Leaving his friends to finish the hauling, he dug it out of the top of his pack and picked his way easily on a long leash from the anchors.
Rilla made room beside her, stuffing the sleeping bag into her pack hanging beside her.
He crawled to sit beside her and lit the smoke for her.
She took a deep breath. “Oh my god. You are a lifesaver.” She crossed her bare legs and took another deep pull on the smoke.
“We were lucky. We found a bit of a dry spot . . . almost shit my pants with the lightning though,” he said, lighting his own cigarette.
“Tell me about it. My hair stood on end.”
“And you didn’t get hit?” he asked.
She exhaled a long rush of smoke and shook her head.
“Lucky girl. You’re all good.”
His shoulder touched hers and her skin thrummed alive. She wondered what Walker was doing. And a sudden sadness over the way that happened rushed over her. She shook her head and kept smoking. Walker was up here somewhere. Hopefully they’d survived the night.
“Well, you’re about halfway there. Going to keep going or are y’all heading down?” the man asked.
She startled and looked at him, confused. “Why would we go down now?”
He laughed and put the smoke to his mouth. “Damn straight. Good luck!” He scooted off the portaledge with smoke trailing from the cigarette still held in his mouth.
Stretching on the harness she leaned across Petra and Adeena, forgetting she was in her underwear until the breeze hit her ass. “Yo, Adeena,” she yelled. “Wake up.”
“Do you want lunch?” The man behind her asked. “We have extra MREs. I’ll cook for you.”
She glanced over her shoulder, holding her cigarette away from the nylon. “Uh . . . sure? Yeah.” Why not?
He nodded and gave her a thumbs-up, still heading for his buddies.
She finished waking Adeena and Petra—and putting on pants. And by the time they were packed and ready to climb, he handed them each a packet of beef stew.
“What’re your names?” his friend asked as the three hungry girls poured the stew straight into their mouths.
“I’m Rilla,” she answered for everyone. “This is Adeena and Petra.”
“Oh, Petra. Nice.” He nodded. “Petra is beautiful.”
“The place,” one of his friends helped.
“Well, and the girl.” He gestured across.
“My parents visited during their honeymoon, hence . . . ” she waved her hand. Petra looked . . . busted. Her eyes were sunk deep in exhaustion and her hair was knotted on top of her head. Sunburn touched her cheeks. They all looked terrible, and Rilla laughed to realize she literally couldn’t care less. Smiling, she drained the rest of the stew.
“Thanks for this. It was actually really great.” Rilla stuffed the empty packet into their trash bag and looked up. “Did y’all mind if we jump on ahead of you?”
“No problem.”
It was a good thing they went first. With four men waiting for their turn behind, Rilla found she was motivated to move faster than her aching body would have wanted. They hauled ass up the pitch, moving gingerly over the loose blocks and to the left, where they were able to collapse on a ledge and drink water, and eat another meal.
“See ya at the summit!” The man waved as they pushed through to the next pitch.
Rilla bit into her salted avocado and waved back. The same wind that had lashed angrily at her now gently caressed her face, cooling her as the sun warmed her bones. She wondered again about Walker.
•
It was late afternoon when they reached Camp 4, putting them a whole day behind. It was full of people, including the men from earlier.
Rilla turned back to Adeena and suggested making up time and continuing into the night. “If we can get past the Great Roof tonight, we’ll be in okay shape,” she said. “I just want to get . . . off this wall.”
Adeena agreed.
Tentatively, they turned to Petra.
“Absolutely not,” Petra said.
There was a moment of tension-filled silence.
“Okay, help me. What makes you want to bivy here? How are you feeling?” Adeena said, which was a lot nicer than the way Rilla would have done it.
“I’m free-climbing. I can’t rush the Great Roof.”
Adeena and Rilla looked at each other. They’d both assumed Petra would have given up by now. She wasn’t going to do it. She had, in reality, already failed by grabbing on to gear, and the hardest climbing was still ahead. To climb it now seemed beyond delusional.
“Petra. Honestly. You think you can free it? You’ve only done a third of the leads and . . .” Rilla trailed off.
“What the hell is your problem?” Petra said.
“I don’t want to bivy here,” Rilla said. “We have time. I want to get higher.”
“We’re okay on food.”
Rilla gritted her teeth. “You’re fucking delusional. You aren’t that good of a climber. We’re gonna run out of water.”
Petra’s cheeks got redder.
“Rilla,” Adeena said softly. “It’s fine. We can figure something out.”
Petra glared at her.
Rilla rolled her eyes. “Let’s bivy under the roof. You can climb it first thing in the morning. At dawn.”
“That’s another night on a portaledge.”
Rilla shrugged. “The ledge doesn’t have room anyway.”
They all looked longingly at the packed gravel ledge. Solid ground.
“All right,” Petra said. “You’re hauling though.”
The wind died in pitch twenty-two. And the heat crept in. Sweat gathered under Rilla’s helmet as she slowly worked her way up on lead, to the base of the Great Roof.
The hauling felt like a personal punishment, and Rilla got more pissed off the harder it became. Petra was finishing eating by the time she was done and Rilla had nothing to look at but the satisfaction on Petra’s face. She kept trying to swallow back her anger and pettiness. Her guilt. But it flavored everything. She choked down a piece of sausage and cheese and some water and ignored Petra, staring across the Valley as the stars lit the sky.
•
What day was it? It was her first thought when she woke before dawn.
It was day four. They were supposed to be done today, but they had only reached halfway. And Petra wanted to free-climb. Rilla rolled upright and shouted, “Petra, get climbing or I’m leading.”
Petra slept on.
All her anger flooded back. But it was hard to remember the start or end of her reasons. It was like a fire licking out of control. She peed into her container, emptied it away from the belay, and clipped it back onto the gear. “Let’s go, Petra. Adeena can belay. I’ll pack.”
Adeena sat up groggily. “I need so much coffee. I hate this climb,” she moaned. “I want a shower and a real bed.”
Same, Rilla thought.
•
Two hours later, they were still waiting for Petra. Not for her to climb, but for her to realize what everyone else already knew—she wasn’t that good. She was capable. Knowledgeable. Competent. But not great. She wasn’t Caroline. She wasn’t Adeena. She had not free-climbed The Nose.
Rilla crossed her arms and looked out over the Valley in her sunglasses. Waiting and furious. She hated that Petra couldn’t see herself realistically . . . hated more what that annoyance might say about herself.
Finally, Petra gave up and came down for the aiders. She was dirty, and scrapes covered her knees and elbows and thighs and even her cheek, somehow. She’d wrestled with herself and had to face the truth.
Rilla’s stomach turned. “Well, thanks to you, we’ll be lucky if we get to the summit by midnight.”
“What is your problem?” Petra shouted.
“I’m fine. I’m not the one up there trying to free-climb The Nose,” Rilla scoffed.
“I cannot believe you, of all people, are here shitting on people’s dreams.”
“Oh my god, what the fuck crawled up your ass and hatched?” Rilla yelled.
“Guys,” Adeena said.
“Shut up,” they both yelled.
Rilla immediately regretted it.
“You’re the one who never climbed before this summer. Now look at you. You’re on the fucking Nose. Why the fuck are you being a bitch about me just trying this.” Petra started crying. “And failing.”
“Hey. You’re fine. It’s been a hard couple of days,” Adeena said, rubbing Petra’s shoulder. “Rilla’s probably just exhausted.”
“Yeah. I’m exhausted,” Rilla said flatly. “I’m also white trash and no way am I going to France, right Petra?”
Petra and Adeena looked confused.
“I overheard y’all talking,” she said.
There was a moment of silence.
“Did we say . . .” Adeena frowned. “Something that wasn’t true?”
Rilla flushed, her cheeks feeling crispy from the blush and sunburn and windburn. “Oh, I’m going to France.”
“Is that what you’re all upset about? Grow up,” Adeena said, in as a close a thing as Rilla had ever heard her snap.
“You can’t say that shit about me.”
“Oh, the shit that’s true?” Petra said.
“It’s not true. I’m not only that. You made me sound like I’d . . .” steal from her. Which Rilla had. To prove what? She closed her eyes and tried not to cry.
“No one is saying you’re only that. No one is saying you’re this forever. It’s just right now this is what you are. You get pissed at Petra for trying to climb something way out of her range, and you’re too scared to even try the shit you can do.” Adeena exhaled and crossed her arms. “You’re not the first or the last. Even if you don’t go to France, you’ll go someday. Get the fuck over yourself, Rilla. You’re not that special.”
Rilla and Petra stared.
“I’m ready to climb,” Adeena said. “I don’t want to be doing this anymore.”
“I stole your watch. And pawned it,” Rilla said to Petra. Immediately, a tension she hadn’t known she had dissolved. Replaced by misery, when Adeena and Petra stared at her.
“Are you serious?” Petra asked. “You . . . stole . . .”
Rilla blinked. “You have no idea how much shit is attached to me. Hearing y’all say those things was my worst nightmare come true. I came three thousand miles hoping to never hear someone talk about me that way again. I spent all summer doing everything . . .” She had to take a breath. “Everything. To make everyone see me differently.”
“No one saw you the way you see yourself,” Petra said. “Why would you take that?”
“I couldn’t take the tub.”
Petra didn’t laugh. “Fuck, Rilla. How am I supposed to trust you now?”
Rilla bit her cheek. “I just wanted to prove to you I could make it to France. That I was worthwhile.”
“People come and go all the time. People can’t do stuff because of money all the time. If we all had money, we’d be . . . fuck, I don’t know . . .” Petra looked around. “I’d be at a spa right now.”
Rilla rolled her eyes. “You’d be in Yosemite. The place every climber wants to be.”
“No, right now, I’d literally be getting a chartered helicopter and going to a spa to get the fuck away from you.” Petra snapped her fingers. “Adeena’s right. You need to grow up. Even if I said the shittiest things about you—even though I made you feel like that. You should have talked to me. Asked for help about France. Anything.” Petra bit her lips tight and looked away. “You know what your problem is? Your problem is you want to do it all yourself, or it doesn’t count. That’s not the way it works, climbing or life. You hold all of us at an arm’s length. You aren’t honest—”
“Oh, that’s right. I’m telling lies about my life. I couldn’t possibly have experienced everything I said, right? Because you didn’t experience it.”
Petra glared at her.
Rilla gritted her jaw. “Let’s just get this climb over with.” They were too far from the summit to think about anything else.
“Great. Yeah. So excited,” Petra said sarcastically.
“I’ll lead,” Rilla snapped. Mostly because it was the only way to escape the two of them for a moment.
The afternoon heat hit the wall as she focused on the rhythm of the aiders. Step. Clip. Her brain fell quiet. The wind roared in her ears. She wanted to escape. To leave. But she was stuck on this thread, dangling between the place she’d left and the place she wanted to be. Step. Clip.
Rilla wrestled herself and the aiders around the edge and pulled the anchor off the Great Roof. It was one of the most recognizable and famous parts of the climb, and already she couldn’t remember anything but how she felt.
Dejected, she carefully set her anchors and gave Adeena a thumbs-up. Belaying was also rhythmic—pull, take, lock, feed out. Adeena’s long hair blew like a raven’s wings in the wind and the swallows and baby falcons twittered around them. The line connecting her and Adeena became shorter with each movement. The lines running to the gear and Petra, laying against the rock.
She’d pursued it. She’d gotten it. But all she’d wanted from the beginning was a thing she didn’t have—a sense of community, a place to belong, and love that couldn’t just give up. In climbing, it felt as if, for a moment, there was someone she trusted, someone who trusted her. It didn’t feel that way; it was that way. Except for now, again. She was in the same place she’d begun. And would be again, she saw that now.
“Over halfway,” Adeena said
Rilla nodded. “I’ll haul. You can belay.”
“You sure?” Adeena asked.
She wanted the punishment of the hauling. The agony. “I’m sure,” she said.
While Adeena belayed, Rilla pulled herself up and down the thread, hauling the bags up, pushing herself until everything cried for relief, and then she was crying. In her harness. She put her head to the rock and sobbed. She’d come this far and was still alone. She was connected, literally, but cut off. Walker had done the same. Thea . . . everyone.
Her tears stained the granite until she had no more water left for tears and wiped her wind-burned cheeks and finished hauling.
No one said anything as they began to the next pitch. And for the next two and a half pitches there was nothing but the sound of the wind, the occasional shouts of other climbers, and the talking of sparrows and falcons nesting on the wall.
They paused only to take a few photos at the Glowering Spot—the Valley so far below it was unreal. Rilla could barely believe anything but this wall existed, and all she wanted was to be done with it.
Lunch was her last avocado and summer sausage, sitting in the middle of what smelled like a giant urinal on the Camp 6 ledge. Not that they particularly smelled better.
“Why do boys have to ruin everything?” Adeena grumbled, finishing peeing into her container. “If you can pee on a rock, you can pee on plastic. And then the one seat here wouldn’t be disgusting.”
The men from the other day were below, catching up. Rilla shoved her food in faster, not wanting to be overtaken. “Ready?” she asked through her last mouthful.
They were only a few pitches from the end, but the granite that towered above them seemed as if it would truly never end. The rest of her life would be lived here, trying to get somewhere she’d never find. Rilla worked the aiders, relaxing in the exhaustion—the relief of having her brain rest, even if it came at the price of her trashed body.
The next section involved tensioning off a piece into a corner, where each piece she placed seemed small and not great, and she was so tired she didn’t even care when the memory of the zzzip tried to taunt her. Finally, she reached the anchors and the pitch was done.
She hauled again while Petra belayed.
This time, it felt easier.
They had just managed to delicately move around the death block, as Adeena called the house-sized boulder ready to peel off and kill, when the yelling started.
Rilla looked down, straining in her harness to see what the commotion was. “Do you hear that?”
Petra looked with her. Adeena scanned above them. “Check your gear. Maybe they see something wrong.” Everyone automatically touched their knots and harnesses, fingers traveling to the anchors.
“I think they’re calling for help,” Petra said. “One of us should rap down.”
They looked to Adeena.
“All right.” She flipped her Grigri closed. “Double-check me.”
Rilla and Petra silently studied the setup. Knots. Rope. Everything closed. Knot at the end of the rope.
“Check me,” Petra said, offering her belay setup to Rilla and Adeena.
Again they checked.
They were tired. Worn down. The simplest mistake would be easy to make and could be completely catastrophic.
Adeena headed down, leaving Petra and Rilla to look over the edge, trying to figure out what was going on.
The afternoon sun burned her face and Rilla reached into her bag to smear more sunscreen on. “Want some?” she asked Petra.
“That’s okay.”
“I don’t blame you. Feels kind of useless right now,” Rilla said.
The radio crackled and Adeena’s voice came through. “Come down.”
Rilla and Petra looked at each other. Did she mean for them to go down there?
“It’s another group across from them. Leader fell. He’s unconscious. They called—” The radio cut out.
Rilla looked at Petra. For a split second it was totally still—the intensity of everything overwhelming. Then they sprang into action. Petra started setting up the rappels. Rilla dug through the pig for the bottom—finding their phone. The emergency number for Yosemite was taped on the back.
Rilla stuffed the phone into her pocket and checked Petra’s rappel. Even after they both checked, they stood there, unable to start the descent. The fear felt like a viscous thing, a wall keeping them from moving.
“We’re good,” Rilla said.
“Check again,” Petra said.
“Knot,” Rilla said, pointing and going through it out loud. Petra nodded and took a deep breath. She did the same for Rilla.
“One. Two. Three.”
Simultaneously, they lowered, leaving their gear fixed to the rock.
Below, the group and Adeena were starting their way across. “It’s the boys,” Adeena shouted, eyes wild. “I see Hico’s socks. Rilla, I think it’s Walker.”
Rilla had never felt such a panic and terror and hatred of climbing as she did just then. That he was only a few feet away, but she was stuck, on this rock, in her harness. That they couldn’t call 911 and immediately get him to a hospital. She swallowed and forced her fear into a ball. Putting it aside so she could move, she handed the phone to Petra. “You call. Let’s go.”
Rigging a line and managing to traverse across the face, they found the boys. Walker lay on a portaledge, in his harness, and limp. He looked asleep. Except for the blood. His helmet was cracked.
“Fuck, Rilla. I’m so sorry. Caroline is going to kill me,” Hico said.
“He’s alive?” Rilla asked Hico.
He nodded, lips tight. “His breathing is shallow, but he’s breathing. He fell but it was from rock fall. Just a little . . .” Hico made a ball with his hands. “Knocked him right out.”
They could hear Petra talking behind them.
Everyone stared at the portaledge soberly.
Blood covered his face—from his mouth and nose, Rilla thought. And his arm was folded onto his chest looking wrong and unnaturally white. The feel of his fingers against her skin flashed into her mind and she swallowed a sob.
“They’re going to send the chopper for a short haul,” Adeena said.
Everyone took a breath.
Rilla clipped into the runner and tensioned herself out, careful not to jostle the portaledge. She reached for his neck, amid the blood and gore. Under her fingers, he was cold and his pulse beat shallowly. All the pages of Thea’s Wilderness First Aid ran through her head—the ones she’d read when avoiding her homework. She peeled off her shirt and used it to apply pressure over the gash on his arm. She went back to his pulse, staring with dry eyes at the watch on his bent arm to time it. Trying not to think of the hikers. Trying to think, like Tam, maybe it was just a broken arm. How had this happened to Walker?
“He needs to be covered,” she said. “I think he’s in shock. His body temperature is falling.”
Hico jumped into action, pulling a sleeping bag from their pig. She took it and spread it over his shoulders.
They were all quiet, staring out at the view of the Valley, scanning the hazy afternoon sky for signs of the chopper. What if there were crosswinds? What if this happened again, while they took him to the hospital? What if . . . what if . . .
Rilla closed her eyes and tried to shut off her thoughts. She checked his pulse again and it seemed weaker. What if they didn’t make it in time? There was nothing she could do for him.
Walker’s eyelids flickered.
“He’s awake,” she said.
Everyone straightened.
He met her eyes and tried to say something, but nothing came out. His eyes had a lost and dazed look—and even though he was awake, she was afraid it wasn’t any better.
“Shhhh . . .” she said. “You’re okay. The helicopter is on its way.” She touched his blood-spattered jaw and gently patted his skin, careful not to accidentally move him. If he moved a lot or got panicked, he could hurt himself more. “Stay calm, they’re almost here. I need you . . .” Her voice broke and she swallowed it. “I need you to be a dick to me some more.”
The afternoon light deepened, and the wind died. Rilla was never so happy to be sweating as she was just then—the rescue team should have no problem getting there.
Finally, almost forty-five minutes later, they heard the thrum of the chopper and Adeena pointed it out as it rose from the meadow.
Rilla held her breath, watching the copter as it came closer and closer, feeling Walker’s pulse faintly beat under her fingertips. It wasn’t like she could keep him alive by counting the beats of his heart, but it felt like maybe she could anyway. It felt like it would hurt to stop.
She started humming. Trying to keep calm.
“Get a figure eight on a bite,” said the guy from the other party on The Nose who’d followed them down. His group sprung into action, getting an anchored rope ready.
They all lifted their chins as the chopper flew above them and the two people dangling from the long line beneath the belly gently swung lower.
It was Adrienne and the old man. Her face was set and hard, but worry was in her eyes.
Rilla wanted to cry. She moved away, traversing back to Adeena and Petra as Adrienne took over. It was all a blur as she deftly wrapped Walker in a red bag that kept him prone and secure, clipped him to their line, and motioned to the people in the helicopter.
The wind of the blades beat against her helmet, but Rilla watched in a stupor as Walker was gently lifted away, Adrienne holding him still. Adrienne met her eyes and then . . . they were gone.
Heading to the Valley, to help.
It wasn’t until the chopper landed that anyone stirred. They had to finish climbing still. Soberly, they all worked back to the route. The men from that morning were now right behind them. Everyone moved carefully. Slowly. Double- and triple-checking, though they all knew accidents happened regardless. The rocks fell at random.
Their bivy that night was silent and dark. Rilla laid under the stars trying to keep a grip on her sanity. She couldn’t afford to lose it—not with climbing still ahead.
“Caroline says he’s okay. A concussion, broken ribs, and a broken wrist. That’s it,” Petra said, looking at her phone.
Rilla eased a sigh of relief. Thank you, god, she breathed to the stars.
•
After a slow start the next morning, they fell into a steady rhythm in the long stretches of aiding. Finally, deep into the night, they staggered up the final scramble, past a tall pine and dropped the bags and themselves to the rock.
The stars glimmered in the dark.
“We did it,” Petra said.
Adeena fist-bumped the sky.
Rilla stared miserably at the edge of the Valley. She’d done it, and she was still the same. She’d done it, and nothing had changed. She’d done it, and Walker had left the Valley and was in the hospital. Hot tears pricked her eyes, and before she could stop it, she was crying.
“You’re okay. You’re okay,” Adeena said softly, rubbing her back.
“Deep breaths,” Petra said, motioning her through.
“I’m sorry,” Rilla gasped, the second she had enough air. “I am so sorry. What I did was so wrong. I’ll give you the money. You can get it back.”
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Petra said.
“I’m not okay.”
“You are okay.”
“I’m not okay.”
“You are okay.”
Rilla shook her head as a fresh round of sobs wracked her. She lay down on the granite and curled up into a ball. It hurt so deeply. She missed her home. She missed feeling as if she had a place where she belonged, even if it wasn’t the place she wanted to be. She missed believing someone loved her. She missed the connection of the rope to Adeena and Petra—to Walker. To her sister. She wept for the boy who’d shared her cigarette at a bus stop, challenged her to open her heart, and had fallen when she thought he would be the last to fall.
“Here,” Adeena said, pulling out her sleeping bag and draping it over her.
“I’m not going to tell anyone about the watch,” Petra said. “I know you’re sorry. I forgive you. And I’m sorry I said those things about you. That wasn’t okay.”
“Y’all were right.” Rilla sniffed. “I’ve been trying so hard. But it felt too risky to ask for help. I didn’t want to have to do that. You made me so mad. But it was anger . . . it was hurt. I regretted it the moment I’d done it, but I just couldn’t admit it.”
“I’m sorry we made you feel like shit,” Petra said. “You’re right, we were unfair.”
“I’m sorry too,” Adeena said. “We all know how crummy it can feel to hear that from your friends.”
“I violated your trust,” Rilla said. “I was such a bitch to you.”
“It’s okay.” Petra looked down at her hands. “I have some things to work on, I’m realizing.”
“I’m going to pay you back. I’m going to get the watch back,” Rilla said.
“I know.” Petra nodded. “And you’re going to France.”
“I have summit chocolate!” Adeena said.
Rilla sat up, clutching the sleeping bag around her dirty shoulders.
“Ah! We’ve revived her with chocolate,” Petra said, digging in her pack. “And I’ve got the alcohol.” She pulled out three little bottles of vodka and passed them around. “I didn’t feel like warm beer, sorry.”
Adeena unscrewed hers and tipped it back. “Summit vodka is excused. I love you,” she declared to Petra.
Rilla took a piece of chocolate and the little bottle. “I love you both too.” It was not as hard to say as she’d thought. It was like placing a piece and hoping it wouldn’t fall, but knowing if it did, she wouldn’t have done anything different anyway. She was climbing. There was risk. But there was also reward.
She toasted and drank the vodka, welcoming the warmth of the swallow in her exhausted body. Nibbling on the chocolate, she looked out over the dark blue shadows of the Sierras under the moon.
“Think about it,” Petra said softly. “Just three months ago, we sat on top of Snake Dike. Do you remember that? You’re here now. You’ve climbed The Nose. We’ve climbed The Nose.”
“We climbed The Nose,” Rilla repeated. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel connected to the moment three months ago when she hadn’t even known what The Nose was. “I climbed The Nose.”
“Wait . . .” Adeena turned, digging through her pack. “We need a picture.” She set a timer and ran out to place the phone on the rock, before coming back.
They put their heads together and the flash went off, blinding them all to the shadows.
“Am I any different?” Rilla asked quietly as they blinked. “From Snake Dike?”
“Yes,” both girls said simultaneously.
“Really?” she asked.
“You’re a leader,” Adeena said. “You’re more confident. Not just in climbing, but everywhere. You proved yourself a team player, over and over. Not everyone can be part of a team,” Adeena said.
“You hooked up with Walker—which is more than any of us managed,” Petra said with a chuckle. “You saved his life, maybe, by keeping him stable. You’re less afraid. Kinder. Not nearly as closed off as when I met you. I remember it was so hard to talk to you because you didn’t answer,” Petra said.
“You are less ignorant,” Adeena said with a nudge. “And you apologized to me right away the last time, which you didn’t do when I met you.”
“Oh my god.” Rilla lowered her chin and pinched her nose. “Dee . . .”
“Calm down. It’s fine.”
“You owned up to the watch. I probably would have never known,” Petra said.
Rilla exhaled. “I’m so—”
“The point is you took responsibility for it. You knew you’d fucked up. You knew what you’d done. And you are making it right.” Petra looked down. “You’ve made me a better climber. A better person.”
“Me too. And you spent all summer working for the gear. Working for this climb. Working for this moment,” Adeena said.
Rilla took a deep breath and stared at the stars. The same stars as at home—in West Virginia. “We did it,” she said. “We climbed The Nose.”
“The Nose,” they toasted.