Boys, Bears And A Serious Pair Of Hiking Boots Part 8

"Oh, sorry." I pay quickly and walk back to the car, where Fiona is (surprise, surprise) waiting with a scowl, scuffing her Doc Martens in the dirt.

"Took you long enough." Today, she seems to be making a bold new fashion statement, ditching the black and adding a green T-shirt to her usual dark jeans, with a baggy dirt-colored cardigan that looks like something a grandfather would wear. A color-blind grandfather.

"Here, Doritos." I toss her the bag. "And you'll have to wait some more. Ethan is coming, too."

"Great."

"I think so." I ignore her sarcasm. I'm still not sure why Ethan wants to spend hours locked up with us but it's something: a chance for me to try to get to know him away from the other guys.

Plus, he's another vote against Fiona should she manage to find a stray copy of Misery Anthems, Volume 5 somewhere in the glove compartment. . . .

"I don't know - ever since he went solo, I haven't liked the music so much."

"Come on - it's way better than the Alarm stuff!"

"Yes, but he's such a skeeze - hitting on that girl from 5th Avenue? I mean, she's fifteen!"

"Lucky guy."

"You would say that!"

"G.o.d, would you both just SHUT UP!" Fiona yells, sitting up from the backseat where she's been sprawled, ignoring us, for the last hundred miles. "I don't care about some washed-up rock star and those stupid reality-TV bimbos!"

I shoot Ethan a look. He's trying not to laugh.

"Relax." I glance in the rearview mirror. She's slumped back down, eyes closed in despair. "We're nearly there."

"Thank G.o.d."

I flip the radio to another station as the wide expanse of trees and mountains gives way to the strip-mall outskirts of the city. Fiona vetoed my iPod on principle, so we've been stuck with the best of the Canadian airwaves for the whole trip; in other words, country and b.u.t.t rock. Ethan has been the only one happy, humming along with the manly relationship angst, while I grit my teeth and wonder how many times they can play Nickelback in a single hour.

Answer? Too many.

"What things do you need to get?" I ask him, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as we begin to hit traffic. "Susie says there are a couple of malls, and then I thought I would wander downtown for a while, but it really depends on what you want." He doesn't answer, so I continue. "Music? Clothes? Books?"

Ethan looks embarra.s.sed. "Uh, to be honest, I don't really need to buy anything."

"You don't?"

He shrugs, draping his arm out the open window. "I just wanted to get out of town for a while. It can get kind of . . . claustrophobic."

"Right, I can imagine," I agree. "Living in such a small town must be something else."

"I like it," he answers quickly, glancing over. "Don't get me wrong - I'm looking forward to college. I'm applying to UBC in Vancouver, and McGill out in Montreal - places with more than a thousand people. But for now, it's kind of nice. I know everyone; we've all grown up together . . ." He gives an awkward smile. "Must sound dumb to you."

"What? Why?"

"Well, you're from a big city."

"Is that what you think: that I'm some fancy city chick?" I laugh. "I've spent my whole life in the suburbs. I mean, sure, I can get into the city for trips and stuff, and my development is a lot bigger than Stillwater, but it's nothing great. Tracts and tracts of identical houses as far as you can see."

"Gra.s.s is greener, eh?"

I smile. "Except in this case, the gra.s.s really is greener here. And the trees, and rivers -"

"Pull in here to park." Fiona interrupts imperiously. I grit my teeth but follow her instructions, circling the lot and managing a tight display of parking that has Ethan applauding by the time I'm done.

"Thank you, thank you very much." I bow.

"Whatever." Fiona climbs out, slamming the door. "Don't even think about calling me before six." She takes off in the general direction of the mall, almost getting hit by a reversing van; the driver sounds the horn and leans out of his window, yelling at her. She ignores him.

"Wait, Fiona!" I scramble out of the car. "Where are you going? It's not even noon. Where should we meet?"

Turning back, she shrugs. "You think I'm spending another minute with you two? Call me tonight!" And with that, she all but jogs away.

"I guess it's just us then." Ethan joins me, hands bunched in his front pockets and a small nylon messenger bag slung across his body. He looks around, nonchalant at the idea of spending the afternoon together. "What's the plan?"

I regroup, pulling out my scribbled list. It's probably a good thing I won't have Fiona hanging around, making fun of my new task. "Well, there is something you can help me with. . . ."

"You want what?" Ethan says dubiously. Thirty minutes later, we've consumed half our weight in French fries in the yellow Formica food court. Now it's time for work.

"Hiking boots and a backpack," I confirm. "St.u.r.dy shorts, waterproof socks - you get the idea."

We're standing in the middle of a vast outdoor activity store, surrounded on all sides by racks and rails full of functional, expensive clothing. By the looks of the array of labels on display, the collected scientific knowledge of the West has been directed at keeping hikers that little bit drier.

"Sure you don't just want to go to the Gap?" he asks, still faintly disbelieving.

"I need this stuff. My summer gear is more suited to, well, sunbathing," I admit, distracted by the video screen on the far wall - a pair of climbers dangling from a vertical rock face with their bare hands. I feel a lurch of vertigo just looking at them, so I quickly turn back to Ethan. "I want to be able to join in with all the activities you guys do," I explain. "I mean, can you see me out hiking in these?" I point down at my jeans for ill.u.s.tration. They're fitted, with frayed edges that are crying out to get caught on a stray tree root and send me tumbling over a cliff or something.

"OK, then we should probably go with the basics." Ethan seems to be warming to the task. He puts his hands on his hips and looks around like he's an explorer, set to conquer foreign lands. Which is exactly what I need. "Let's start at the feet and work our way up."

"Jenna! Phone!"

I drag my head up from my pillow and squint at my cell in disbelief. Seven a.m. People are alive at this hour? Alive, and calling me?

"Jenna!"

"Coming!" I manage to yell back. Fiona makes a groaning noise and pulls her covers up over her head. For once, I know how she feels. We stayed late in Kamloops for a movie and Chinese food, and by the time we got back, I was sleeping like a dead person in the backseat. If it hadn't been for Ethan gently shaking me awake, I'm guessing Fiona would have left me curled up out there all night.

I stumble out of her bedroom, skidding downstairs and only narrowly missing that gaping pit of doom in the hallway.

"Morning, sweetie." Susie hands me the phone with a sparkle in her eye.

"Hmmmhm," I yawn, eyes still half-shut. I don't even wait for a word before putting the phone to my ear. "Mom, there's something called a time difference, you remember that, right?"

"Uh, hi, Jenna."

It's not my mom. Unless she's had a s.e.x change.

"Oh, hey, sorry." I'm paying attention now. "Who is this?"

"It's Ethan." He sounds suspiciously awake. "Is this a bad time, because I could call back later and -"

"No, no, it's fine!" Susie is still beaming at me, so I shoo her away and wander through to the kitchen. But I have to admit, I'm curious. "What's up?"

"Well, me and the guys were just going to head out riding, shooting some stuff for the next video. You want to come along?"

"A ride, like, horseback?"

He laughs. "No, mountain bikes. There are some cool trails up in the hills, and we've got some old spares lying around you could use. But don't worry if you can't make it - I just thought . . ."

"No! I mean, yes, I'd love to come!" I'm in shock: an actual invitation to join in? My tiredness gives way to excitement. "When did you want to meet?"

There's a pause. "Uh, we're actually leaving in ten minutes."

What?

"I'm sorry it's so last-minute," he continues. "I should have mentioned something yesterday, but I didn't even think of it."

"That's OK," I answer faintly, trying to calculate how much time I'll need to shower, dress, and, you know, eat. "I can do that, no problem."

"You can? That's great. We'll pick you up in a while."

"Uh-huh." I hang up, just in time to hear the only working shower in the house start upstairs. "Fionaaaaaaa!"

I manage to make it out to the front porch ten seconds before the boys arrive. Thanks to my awesome roomie's timing, I haven't had time to shower or brush my teeth, but that's what deodorant and gum are for, right?

"Hey." Ethan bounds up the steps with the kind of enthusiasm it would take me three lattes to achieve. It's still cloudy out, and he's bundled up in a loose gray sweatshirt emblazoned with that sports logo I've seen Grady wear. I asked Adam about it, and he says it's for the Vancouver ice-hockey team. Ice hockey is big out here. "All set?"

"Sure!" Despite longing for the snug comfort of bed, I can't wait to get going. "I'm ready for action."

"And you're all outfitted, too." He takes in my clothing.

"Yeah, I was thinking about going for a skirt and halter," I joke. "But since I had these lying around . . ." I'm wearing my brand-new lightweight trail shoes: a sale bargain, along with the st.u.r.dy navy long-cut shorts I picked up.

"Cool. There are some great trails we've been exploring, away from the main road and with awesome slopes." Ethan's voice is relaxed, but I still feel a tremor of nerves as I follow him out to the truck. It's even muddier than last time I saw it, complete with a clutch of mountain bikes strapped precariously in the flatbed, but it's what's inside that's worrying me. Or rather, who.

"Hi." I clamber awkwardly up into the main cab, squeezing against Grady. Ethan climbs in after me, until we're all crammed together on the pa.s.senger side while Reeve stretches out in the relative comfort of the driver's seat. I'm jammed between denim and faded T-shirts, so close I can smell the faint citrus smell of body wash and that manly deodorant scent.

I think of my own hasty hygiene routine this morning and wonder if maybe I should have fought harder for the bathroom.

"Hey." Grady grunts from under his baseball cap, and goes back to flipping through the radio dial. Reeve only nods in my general direction before starting the engine again and kicking us into gear. Casual, I get the message.

"Thanks for the invite," I begin, still feeling out of place as we follow the road farther up into the forest. "I've never really tried dirt bikes, but it sounds like fun."

"Yeah, well, this is just the kind of thing I need to get for the website," Ethan replies easily. On my other side, Grady finally lets the station stay on an indie rock song and sits back, his elbow digging into me. His hair is damp from the shower (oh, the shower!) and it drips slowly onto my bare shoulder.

"How's that going?" I try to shift the other way, but that only presses me tighter against Ethan. "I brought the camera, like you said."

"Thanks. I've set up the basic page," he replies, "and uploaded the kayaking footage." At this, Grady makes a kind of snorting sound, but I try to ignore the memory of being upended into freezing cold water.

"Have you had many hits?" I ask, determined to keep the conversation going.

"Like, five?" He laughs. "But I'm not sending out the address until there's more up."

"True. I should take some photos of the B and B, but right now it would only scare them off!"

Ethan laughs, and I feel the vibrations against my side. "Yeah, what I've seen of the place isn't exactly luxurious."

"Never mind luxurious," I add. "It's still practically a health hazard." We suddenly speed around a bend, and I'm thrown against him.

"Ahem, don't mind us," Grady mutters on my other side, kind of sarcastic.

"Sorry," I apologize quickly, trying to disentangle myself.

"Don't worry - I can take it." Ethan looks amused. Grady makes another snorting sound. I look around, but n.o.body explains.

"Anyway, I'm really hoping this website project works," I eventually finish, deciding to ignore their in-jokes. Something's going way over my head, but I guess that's just what happens when you're new in town.

"Come on, give it a try!" Ethan cycles a slow loop around me later in the afternoon. After watching the boys hurl themselves down steep trails with no concern for the risk of breaking their necks and/or vital limbs, I decided to take on official filming duties - from the safety of a solid mound of dirt.

"I'm fine here!" I protest, still filming. Sunlight falls through the tree branches, dappling us with light, and I try to make the scene look as picturesque as possible - despite the mud streaking his face and the fresh bruises on his legs.

"You've got enough footage by now," he argues, speeding up. The tires slip against the dirt as he circles me on the incline, and I start to get dizzy just watching him. "Besides, isn't the whole point to show a newbie doing all this? Unless you get on the bike yourself, it's not the same."

"I don't know." I gulp. "I usually stick to flat terrain."

"Coming through!"

I jump back as Grady and Reeve come racing down the hill. They whoop past us, going at least twenty miles an hour, before disappearing into the thick undergrowth. "How can they even see where they're going?" I gape.

Ethan laughs. "You just hang on and hope for the best."

"I'm beginning to think that's a theme with you guys."

"You can start slowly," he points out. "You do have breaks."

I waver. Despite the sheer insanity, there is a small part of me that does want to try - to experience whatever it is that has the guys yelling with such triumphant abandon.

"OK," I say, suddenly brave. I edge down from my hill. "I'll do it."

"Awesome." Ethan is already dismounting. "I'll take that." Before I can back out, he's exchanging the video camera for gloves and kneepads. Fully protected, I walk slowly over to where "my" bike is resting against a tree.

"Brakes, pedals . . ." Ethan points out, joking. I fasten a helmet on and swing one leg over. "Seat height OK?"

I nod, not sure I'd know if it wasn't.

"Then you're all set."