Boys, Bears, and a Serious Pair of Hiking Boots(52)
Author: Abby McDonald

Cautiously, I follow him outside. The air is chillier, mists hanging over the mountains in the distance, telling me it will be raining soon. Ever since that hike with Reeve, I’ve learned to read the clouds better.

“You see that far ridge?” Mr. Coombes gestures with his cane to a craggy peak on the far side of the valley. We’re facing north from Stillwater, and there’s nothing but mountain, lakes, and valley from here on out. I nod slowly. “All the land between us and there belongs to me. Been buying it up the last twenty years now, and give me another twenty and I’ll own the rest, too.”

He surveys his domain, satisfied, but I don’t understand. “You mean, you’re going to expand the resort?” I can’t keep the horror from my voice. All the Green Teen protests come back to me like a script I know by heart: the hours we spent writing fierce letters and leaflets about the perils of destroying the wilderness. “But what about all the trees? The wildlife needs the land for their —”

“You see any buildings there, kid?” Mr. Coombes interrupts me. “Any construction, any highways?”

I pause. “No . . .”

“And it’ll stay that way. But how am I supposed to pay for it, eh?” Catching my expression, he chuckles again. “Getting back to nature’s all well and good, but I learned a long time ago, the only way you know what’s going on in those hills is if you own ’em yourself.”

“So . . . you’re conserving the valley?” I look at Mr. Coombes with confusion. “But that still doesn’t explain why you opened Blue Ridge. I mean, what was it you said in the book: ‘Every new building is a blight on the whole landscape!’”

“I thought things were real simple back then, eh? Follies of youth!” As if taking pity on me, he pats my arm. “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” He turns to go but I stop him, still feeling betrayed.

“Why don’t you explain it now?” If he even can. I know people sell out their principles for an easy life all the time, but I can’t believe someone as passionate as Jeremiah B. Coombes would take the dirty money. What happened to him?

He pauses, looking out at his valley, and when he answers, it’s slow and deliberate. “Sometimes, kid, your ideals don’t make a damn bit of difference. You realize, there is no right answer; it’s all just a bunch of choices.”

I blink. Whatever self-righteous defense I was expecting, it isn’t this. “But . . . of course you can make a difference! We all can!”

He looks at me kindly. “Sure, kid. You can chant and wave banners if it makes you feel better, but this is the real world. The people around here, they need the trade, and I need the money, and in the end . . . It’s a compromise I’m just fine making.”

With a nod, he begins to walk away. “I’ll fix you up a gift pack, maybe the bubble-bliss bath sets!” he calls back to me. “My staff tells me they’re a dream!”

I think about the reinvention of Jeremiah B. Coombes all the drive back to Stillwater. I know what Olivia and the other Green Teens would say about him, and all his jaded self-justification, but I’m not so sure anymore. . . . For a moment, I wonder if I’d feel so betrayed if I hadn’t carried around that book of his — if I didn’t feel like I knew him as a person. But of course I would, I remind myself. He’s everything our group stands against.

“. . . do you? Jenna?”

“Huh?” I blink awake as we pull into the driveway.

“Do you want casserole, or my three-cheese mac ’n’ cheese?” Susie asks, looking back at me.

“Either!” I decide brightly, trying to put Jeremiah B. Coombes out of my mind. As I climb out of the car, I catch a glimpse of someone on the porch. “Hey, Fi, did Grady say they were coming over, or —”

“JENNA!” A familiar petite figure waves at me in excitement. I watch, stunned, as Olivia drops an overstuffed duffel bag and races across the yard. She hurls herself at me in a hug. “Omigod, how ARE you?”

31

I stare at her, confused. For a moment, I think I’m hallucinating the whole thing from a chocolate overdose, but the arms gripping around my waist feel real enough to me.

“What? I mean . . . What are you doing here?” I finally manage to detangle myself. Olivia is grinning like it’s no big deal to show up, a whole continent away from home with no warning at all. I can’t believe this.

“Yes,” Susie agrees, folding her arms and glancing back and forth between us both. Her lips are pressed thinly together. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”

I hear a snigger behind me from Fiona. “This better be good.”

Releasing me, Olivia turns to Susie. “Susie, it’s so great to see you again!” She hugs her too, and attempts to embrace Fiona as well, but Fiona backs away swiftly. Undeterred, Olivia launches into her big explanation. “So the Chicago protest was shut down, which was totally infringing our First Amendment rights, and my parents freaked, of course, but they’re on their super-polluting cruise . . .”

As she talks, I study her, trying to take in all the changes. And there have been a ton. Her dark hair is now in full-on dreadlocks, matted in thick clumps around her scalp. Her face is slightly sunburned and peeling, her eyebrows are roaming wild, and she’s wearing a bright red shirt daubed with MEAT IS MURDER! and hefty Doc Martens. This is so not the same Olivia who reminded me to pack three different brands of cleanser to keep my pores healthy.

“So I thought I’d drop by! I caught a ride to Seattle and used their emergency credit card to book a flight out here,” she finishes, overflowing with enthusiasm despite the fact she just made a six-hour journey, at least. “I looked up the bus and hitchhiked into town. Jenna, it’s so good to see you!”

I don’t know what to say.

Susie is looking at me with a hint of disapproval, Fiona is blatantly amused, but I just feel . . . invaded. It’s been weeks since I spoke to her, and longer since we’ve had a real conversation, but suddenly here she is in Stillwater.

“I haven’t heard from you in ages,” I tell her at last. My voice is quiet, but there’s an edge there. I know I’m supposed to be happy, but I didn’t invite her, and I sure didn’t think she would just show up. I mean, this is Canada — you don’t just “drop by,” hundreds of miles out in the wilderness!