Boys, Bears And A Serious Pair Of Hiking Boots Part 5

"See?" Ethan clicks away and then swivels the cracked screen toward me.

"'Blue Ridge,'" I read aloud, "'the luxurious side to nature.'" The web page shows the same sprawling valley that Stillwater inhabits, but glistening through the steam from a hot tub, high in the mountains. A monogrammed towel rests thick and fluffy beside a gla.s.s of champagne; a slice of chocolate cake sits on a gleaming white plate. Yup, I'd buy into that, if only I had a spare . . . "Five hundred dollars! A night?"

Ethan laughs darkly. "And that's just the starting rate. If you want, you can get helicoptered in and have gold particles ma.s.saged into your face."

"Right, gold particles. For when silver is just pa.s.se."

He closes the laptop. "So, you see why we can't really compete? Stillwater - the muddy side to nature. Doesn't have the same ring to it."

"Nope." I giggle. "Shame. I mean, not everyone wants to eat French cuisine and wrap themselves with kelp - some people actually like all that outdoor adventure stuff. You have activities and things like that here in town, right?"

"Sure." He nods. "Grady and me run mountain-biking trips, when there are any people around. And we have a bunch of kayaks and fis.h.i.+ng equipment. But it's hardly a full-service alpine adventure center. With valets."

"True." I want to linger a while more and chat with Ethan, but Grady slouches back in and takes up residence behind the counter again. He gives me an impatient look.

"Got everything?"

I look down at the collection of heavy bags at my feet. "Yes." I ignore his tone. "Thanks, Ethan."

Thanks for the only five minutes of friendly conversation I've had since arriving in this town.

I can't help but worry as I drive back to the house - keeping a careful eye out for stray moose this time. My G.o.dmother is notorious for leaping into new and exciting projects without paying much attention to details, but what happens when the B and B opens its freshly painted doors to find . . . no guests?

I find Susie in one of the downstairs rooms, wearing her paint-stained overalls and a bright pink scarf in her hair.

"Find everything?" she asks, sc.r.a.ping uselessly at the wallpaper with a blunt knife edge.

"Almost." I put down the first box and rummage around for a s.h.i.+ny new tool. "This should make things easier."

"Oh, thanks!" She sets to work with the sc.r.a.per and right away, a whole strip of hideous 1970s orange-print paper peels clean off the wall. "Want to try? It's fun. Like peeling off dead skin when you get a sunburn, you know?"

"Sure." I take another tool and set to work on the other wall. She's right: the process is strangely satisfying. "So, the B and B . . ." I rip a long piece away. "Do you think it'll be a hit?"

"For sure!" Susie beams, wiping a damp curl of hair out of her eyes. "The setting is perfect, and this house has so much potential." She gathers a great heap of wallpaper and piles it into a black garbage bag. I look around. There are three more bags over by the door, and industrial cleaning containers scattered across the floor.

"Have you thought about the environmental impact of all this construction?" I ask, taking a break from the stripper. "Because there's always a risk you could disrupt the wildlife with all the noise, and -" I stop, struck by a sudden genius idea. "Ooh! You could make the whole place eco-friendly! With solar panels, and composting in the yard, and only earth-friendly, salvaged material." I look over, eager. "I read about these new homes out near Long Island that are totally self-sufficient - they only use what energy they get from the sun, and the whole development is built out of -"

"Whoa, Jenna!" Susie stops me, laughing.

"Sorry." I pause sheepishly. "I can get carried away. But what do you think of the idea?" I look at her expectantly. "It could be a real selling point for the place. Ecotourism is supposed to be getting really big - people going out to stay in rain-forest huts and stuff. You could be the Canadian version!"

"I think we've got enough on our hands just getting this place habitable in time." Susie goes back to work.

"But it could be a real draw. I mean, that Blue Ridge place is selling luxury, so this would be a whole different angle." I can already think of half a dozen ways to make the B and B an eco-paradise. It's just what Olivia was talking about: my perfect summer project!

"Jenna . . ."

"And it wouldn't even be much work! I mean, much extra. You're in such early stages here, you could easily switch to new plans." I beam happily. Helping out would be the perfect way to repay Susie for having me stay, plus it would totally make up for the carbon damage of my flight and all this driving.

But Susie doesn't seem so enthusiastic. "It's a nice idea, sweetie." She gives me an indulgent smile, the same one my parents use when I come home from yet another protest. "But it's really not possible right now."

"Why not?" I don't wait for a reply. "I know it messes up your schedule, but it'll all be worth it later. And -"

"Jenna." She stops me again, her smile slipping. "I appreciate your . . . enthusiasm. But making things eco-friendly isn't a priority, I'm afraid. I know how much all this means to you," she adds. "But honestly, we'll be lucky to finish on budget as it is."

"That's the great thing about setting up as self-sufficient!" I argue. "You save tons in heating and electricity costs down the line."

"Jenna." Susie says my name again, but this time there's an irritated edge to her voice that stops me short. "I don't think you understand. I'm losing sleep over the mortgage and construction costs right now. We barely have hot water, the roof still leaks, and I can't start advertising for guests because we don't have a single finished room!" She looks at me, clearly exasperated. "Spending a fortune on solar panels or whatever is the last thing I need!"

There's silence. I feel the fierce flush of blood rus.h.i.+ng to my cheeks.

"Sorry," I answer in a small voice. "I . . . I didn't think."

"I know, sweetie." Susie manages a tired smile. "You're just trying to help. I appreciate that." She starts pulling away at the wallpaper again, and I go back to my task, my skin still tingling with embarra.s.sment.

I've never been one of the rich kids in school, flas.h.i.+ng around designer clothes and new iPhones, but suddenly I feel like the worst kind of princess. Going on about expensive plans when they're already in debt! I sc.r.a.pe harder at the walls, trying to put all my discomfort into the work, but all I can hear is my own voice babbling away with those expensive ideas.

"Want some lemonade?" Susie asks after a moment, her voice bright. She's humming along to the radio again, as if the whole scene is forgotten.

"I'll go!" I duck back through to the kitchen, glad of an excuse to get away. As I gather ice and gla.s.ses and pour Susie's homemade lemonade, I feel a tremor of unease. I never thought twice about the cost of my organic food and fair-trade herbal teas back at home. Whatever the price, I figured it was worth it to be environmentally friendly. But that was in New Jersey, surrounded by BMWs, McMansions, and sweet sixteen blowouts. Here in Stillwater, I wonder if all my talk of sustainable eco-friendliness is making me sound like a good Green Teen activist - or just a spoiled brat.

Even though Susie doesn't say another word about our conversation, I find myself trying extra-hard to be sensitive and helpful over the next few days: pitching in with ch.o.r.es and trying not to say another word about Green Teen projects. Even when I see Fiona tossing empty soda cans in with the regular trash, I just bite my lip - and sneak back later to pick them out and put them in a separate recycling bag. Not that it helps melt her cold, cold heart. Nope, eco-speak or no eco-speak, Fiona is as icy with me as when I first arrived.

"Hey, Fi, do you want -?" I come to a stop on the front porch. She's curled up with a book as usual, wearing an oversize hoodie and a scowl, but Ethan and Grady are there too, loitering in the shade. "Hi, guys! I didn't know you were here." I pause, feeling awkward. "Umm, I was just going to break out the Ben & Jerry's? You want some?"

"No, thanks." Ethan gives me a vaguely friendly grin, his sungla.s.ses pushed up on the top of his head. Grady ignores me, slouched in one of the wicker rocking chairs. Like his brother, he's wearing cut-off jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt, with one of his baseball hats pulled low.

"Well . . . cool." I linger in the doorway, painfully aware of my sweaty tank top and the baggy shorts I borrowed from Susie to paint in. "So what's up?"

"Uh, we were actually trying to get Fiona to help out with something." Again, it's Ethan who speaks. He leans against the porch rail and shoots Fiona a hopeful look. She snorts.

"And I'm trying to get them to leave me alone."

Ethan must be used to her sunny disposition, because he just rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "I kind of got the idea the other day, after we were talking," he explains to me while Grady squishes ants with the toe of his sneaker. "All that stuff about outdoor adventures, and Stillwater being the muddy side to nature, you know? I figured there are people out there who are into that kind of thing; we just have to get them into town." Ethan's expression is enthusiastic. "So we're going to make a website about Stillwater. Not the boring stuff, like the town council or whatever, but all the different activities you can do around here. We could take pictures, and shoot video . . ."

"That's a great idea!" I exclaim.

He shoots Grady and Fiona a satisfied look. "Glad someone thinks so."

"Whatever." Fiona flips another page, looking up briefly to frown at him. "Why are you even asking me to help?"

"Because we could have a section for the B and B too. I mean, like advertising for guests, helping them plan their trip."

"And?" She's unimpressed.

Ethan sighs. "And, I figured you'd want in. Don't you want to help out your dad?"

Apparently not. Fiona glares at him. "None of this was his idea - it was all Susie's. So what if it fails? Maybe then she'd go back to wherever she came from." She brightens at the thought.

"They're married." I speak up, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice.

"Yes. And nearly fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce." She sounds pleased. "So the odds are pretty much even they won't last."

"C'mon, Fi." Grady finally pitches in, bored with killing innocent bugs. He s.h.i.+fts restlessly, drumming his hands on his knees as if he can't wait to be moving again. "We've got the kayaks all set to go, and Susie's lending the video camera."

"You'd just have to paddle around and look like you're having fun." Ethan takes up the case. "OK, so maybe not even fun," he corrects himself. "I could edit around that. But I need someone to be the face of it - to do all the activities and show how great it is around here."

"And be part of false advertising? No thanks." Fiona pauses, glancing up with a sly smile. "Why doesn't she do it?"

The boys look over.

"Uh, that's OK," Ethan says quickly. "We can manage by ourselves; it's no problem."

"But I could help." My voice comes out plaintive. "I mean, if you need someone." I backtrack, forcing a casual shrug. "It could be fun."

"I don't know. . . ." Ethan looks at me, his blue eyes dubious. "You ever kayaked before?"

"Well, no," I admit. "But I'm a fast learner!"

Not convinced, he turns to his brother for input. Grady puts his hands up and smirks. "Dude, this is your thing. Just tell me where to be and when." He gets up and begins to saunter down the front steps. Ethan wavers.

"I guess . . ."

"It could be a good angle," I add, trying to convince him. The prospect of freezing water doesn't exactly fill me with joy, but I've been rattling around in this house for days now with no one but Fiona for teenage company. "You know, the newcomer, testing out everything. And I've taken some website design cla.s.ses, so I could even help out with that side of it too, and -" I stop myself before I go too far.

Olivia is right: I love a project. Whenever the Green Teens come up with a plan, I usually wind up running the whole thing. I can see right away it would be easy for me to jump in here and take over, but after what happened with Susie and the eco-idea . . . I keep my lips shut and remind myself to keep to the backseat.

"Why not?" Ethan finally relaxes. He shrugs, as if to say, What the h.e.l.l? "I, uh, guess that would be cool."

"Awesome!" I beam. "When do you want me?"

Which is how, two hours later, I wind up on the rocky banks of a river in the mountains above town. Strapping myself into a bright orange life vest and helmet, I survey the rus.h.i.+ng, ice-cold water with no small amount of trepidation. "Are you sure about this?"

"One hundred percent." Ethan gives me a supportive grin, waving the video camera. We coc.o.o.ned it in a bunch of plastic bags to make it splash-resistant, and I just pray that it's enough. "Now could you look less, you know, terrified? This is supposed to make people want to come out here, not be some public safety warning."

I plaster a smile over my nerves, approaching the shallows and the small kayak that's supposed to deliver me safely downstream. Trees overhang the banks on each side, shading us with green and cool, but out in the middle of the river, the sun reflects brightly on the clear water.

Ethan carefully clambers into a double vessel behind Grady and settles in with the camera. Reeve is already way out ahead in his own small kayak, grinning at my clumsy reluctance, so I say a silent prayer and climb in, using the double-ended paddle to push myself off the riverbed and into open water.

"Why don't you guys get life jackets?" I call over. They're sitting there in regular clothing while I'm buried under a scratchy inflatable vest that's already making me way too hot.

Grady snorts. "Only total beginners need them." He starts to paddle with the current, and left alone, I have no choice but to follow - one tentative stroke at a time.

After fumbling around for a few moments, I actually manage to point the boat in the right direction, but that's where my natural apt.i.tude ends. It feels completely weird to have my feet trapped together in front of me, and as I plunge the paddle uselessly in the water, I find myself lurching dangerously from side to side.

Oh, G.o.d.

"What was that?" Ethan calls back. He's pointing the camera at me, and I realize that my pitiful performance is getting captured on film.

"Nothing!" I try to smile brightly as I splash in a slow circle. This may be an epic fail, but I still need to look as if I'm having fun.

"Try and feel the balance," Ethan calls helpfully. "Maybe only paddle one stroke on each side."

People do this voluntarily? For fun?

I try again, this time keeping my body rigid and using the paddle as balance: making one stroke on my left side, then quickly switching over before I lean too far. To my surprise, it seems to work - better than before, anyway. I get the kayak facing downriver and actually manage to move forward with the current. My mortal fear of tipping over, however, doesn't seem to ease.

Within a minute or two, I catch up with Ethan and Grady.

"See? Not so bad," Ethan says from behind the camera. I keep my eyes fixed in front of me. The water is still and calm for now, but every tip and roll of the kayak sends a new panic right through me. "Relax!" he calls, laughing.

"Seriously," Grady agrees, stretching lazily as if he's sitting on a couch. "This is nothing."

Nothing to them, maybe, but I've been raised with chlorinated pools and bobbing lane dividers, not a surging flow of Rocky Mountain water. Still, this is for Susie. I gather my courage and follow them around the first bend.

By the time we break for a rest about an hour downstream, my arms are aching and I've got serious pins and needles in my calves, but at least I've yet to flip over into the icy water.

"Try keeping your knees elevated," Reeve suggests, watching me jump up and down on the sh.o.r.e. "I usually put a rolled-up sweats.h.i.+rt under my legs."

"Oh, thanks." I'm surprised by the friendly tone. His att.i.tude today has seemed pretty chilly, but maybe I'm reading him wrong. "Want a cookie?" I offer him the bag I stashed along with juice and an apple. He takes one and puts it in his mouth whole, then turns away from me, stripping off his T-s.h.i.+rt.

I try not to stare.

It's not that I haven't had exposure to naked teen-boy torsos. My (only) ex, Mike, was part of the whole Christian youth scene, but that just meant our pants stayed on. For three months. But watching Reeve gulp down water like something out of a photo shoot, I realize that there's a big difference between Mike's pale, kind of skinny, naked chest, and Reeve's body, which is tanned and taut, with compact sinewy muscles and shoulder blades that ripple as he moves . . .

I eat another cookie.

"Want to see what I've got so far?" Ethan collapses beside me, sprawling out in the sun.

"Absolutely!" I say, too loud, happy for any kind of distraction. Ethan shows me the small viewfinder screen and lets the footage run.

"Oh, this stuff is great!" There are beautiful shots of the scenery: water lapping gently against the sh.o.r.e, birds flying overhead, even some fish darting around in the shallows. And then there's me. "Noooo," I moan quietly. I look like a giant orange safety hazard, bundled up in all my protective gear. And as for that grimace of fear . . .

"It's not so bad," Ethan insists with a lazy grin. "We can cut all the flailing, and the splas.h.i.+ng. There are moments where you actually look like you're having a good time. See, here"- for a brief second, I smile on-screen -"and here."

"It's a start," I agree reluctantly. "And all the nature stuff is exactly what will sell this place. Maybe soon, we can actually get some tourists in town!"

When we get on the water again, I'm happy to put the flailing, inept version of myself behind me. Instead, I'm paddling like a pro now, gliding effortlessly along the river as I enjoy the warm suns.h.i.+ne. Without all that panic clouding my mind, I can see that this is actually kind of relaxing, nothing but the breeze, calm water, and the beautiful - Suddenly, the water isn't quite so calm. It's getting choppier, the current speeding me downstream. "Umm, guys - what's happening?" I try back-paddling, but I can't slow down.

Reeve turns back with a devious grin. "Now we get to the fun part!"

Fun? I gulp, swerving around a rock in my path. The relaxing trip has suddenly turned into a white-knuckle ride. My whole body tenses up, and I squint through the splashes, trying to follow the boys' path between rocks and shallow sections.

"Can we"- I feel the kayak sc.r.a.pe against something as I hurtle faster down the river -"maybe slow down just a -?"

"See you on the other side!" Reeve calls, and then disappears around a bend. Literally disappears: when I make it after him, he's gone, and there's only a ma.s.s of foam and choppy water where he once - "Agggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The river drops away and suddenly I'm falling, nothing but air and emptiness beneath me for what seems like an eternity until I hit, a slap against the water that jolts right through me. Water drenches my face and I'm fighting for my balance, but there's no time to steady myself - even to breathe - before the kayak is caught in the current and plunges on through the waves. To the next fall.