Be Not Far from Me(2)

It died quiet, under the trees.

I think that’s how I’d want to go too.

Hiking—much like drinking—is something that sounds more fun to the uninitiated than it actually is. I’d doubted the intelligence of combining the two ever since Meredith came up with the idea. A party far enough into the Smokies that nobody bothers us might sound like a good time, but both hiking and drinking require enough common sense to get through without seriously injuring yourself, and I’ve known enough people to prove common sense is anything but common.

I try to remind myself of Meredith’s finer points when I spot the electrical cord for a curler trailing out of her pack as she digs for a granola bar. Kavita sees it too and hides a smile. I decide not to tell her that outlets don’t grow on trees. I love Meredith. I swear I do. She’s just not on my apocalypse-survival team. I, on the other hand, am on everyone’s, despite the fact that I keep telling them that in any such scenario I’m striking out on my own because they’re deadweight.

“How much longer?” Meredith asks, and I realize she’s done me the favor of not asking until now.

I know better than to pull out my phone. There’s no more cell service out here than there is the magical electrical current that Meredith is relying on to fix her hair once we’re at the campsite. I take a second to get my bearings. The trek we’re on is a small leg of the Appalachian Trail, and I’ve done it enough that a casual glance tells me where I am. I’d love to do the whole AT someday, when I’m older. Or have enough money for a decent kit. Whichever comes first. Probably the older part.

“The guys headed out yesterday,” I tell her, eyeing the heavy brush where it’s clear someone crashed off the path, probably to take a piss. “They wanted to fish for a bit and set up camp. It’s not far, maybe a mile. We’ll be able to hear them soon, drunk or sober.”

“Drunk, I bet,” Kavita says.

“Long as they save some for me,” Meredith says, coming to her feet with a rush of energy at the promise of beer. She gives me a smile, and I know I’m forgiven for being . . . myself.

“They’ll save some,” I assure her, knowing it’s true. If not, one of them will probably find a way to brew it on the spot. People like to keep Meredith happy, especially boys. It doesn’t matter if her hair looks perfect or not.

She just prefers it that way.

Meredith might not be on my apocalypse-survival team, but I’m probably not on her beauty-pageant roster either, so I guess we’ve all got our weapons. I might weigh mine before I head out on the trail so that I’m not carrying an ounce more than necessary, and she might keep hers in her bra, but we each get by, in our own way.

“Last leg,” I reassure her as she winces, the blister she was nursing not twenty yards into the hike undoubtedly like a hot needle at her heel.

“I’m fine,” she says, wiping the sweat from her brow.

And I think maybe I might put her on my apocalypse team as an alternate.

The boys are already lit when we get there, which is more than I can say for the fire. Their priorities definitely went in this order—beer, weed, boobs, fire, tent. The first two they supplied, we’ve brought the third, and I’m responsible for everything else. It doesn’t look like they went fishing yesterday, or did much of anything other than get high and pass out in sleeping bags under the open sky.

“Ka—vit—a!” Jason lifts a bottle in her direction when we break into the clearing. He’s been shouting her name in public since she moved here as a freshman, something Meredith and I have both tried to tell her means he’s interested.

Her response is always, “Ja—son!” with the same tone he uses. He’s never known what to do with that, so they haven’t gone past introductions in two years.

“Hey,” Duke says when he spots me, adding an up-nod that must single me out as his girl to the other two guys with them, because they immediately gravitate to Meredith, but they probably would anyway.

She’s relieved of the burden of her backpack, given a chair, and manages to initiate the beginnings of the tents going up with a few words and a sly smile. I thank her silently and take a lawn chair next to Duke. At our feet is a pile of sticks they had half-heartedly tossed together, skipping the part where it turns into an actual fire.

“Who’re they?” I ask, taking a beer that he pulls from the cooler in between us.

“Couple of brothers. Stephanie’s cousins, I guess,” he says, pushing back his baseball hat to hold a cold can next to his forehead. “They’re visiting, and her mom said to bring them along.”

“They cool?” I ask, watching them struggle with a pup tent.

“Seem okay.” He shrugs, pausing a second before dropping something on me. “Natalie’s coming in later, with Steph.”

“Natalie,” I repeat, my mouth getting tight. I try to force it back into relaxation.

“That okay?” he asks.

“I don’t know, is it?” I shoot back. It doesn’t matter how I feel about his ex-girlfriend being here; it’s how he feels that I’m going to react to.

“Just don’t punch her, or anything,” Duke says. “I know that’s kind of your go-to.”

“Once,” I tell him, raising a finger. “Once, I punched someone on the basketball court. She’d been over my back all night, and they weren’t calling it.”