The Lies About Truth(35)

Max assembled a pillow pile and flopped back into some comfort. Good-naturedly, he changed gears. “Anywhere you want. Remember, bouldering is a game of inches.”

“Is that a challenge, McCall?” I asked.

“You kidding?” Max shifted around to watch what I figured would be a very short show. “You’ll top out.” He held one finger in the air to say, On the first time.

That wasn’t going to happen, but I liked his confidence.

I chalked my hands the way he always did, found two deep handholds near the bottom, and pulled up on the wall.

“Nice,” he said.

I wasn’t graceful like him, but I wasn’t awful. Each move was a victory. You never feel the weight of your own body until you have to hold it all with your fingertips. Fatigue slayed me two moves later; I froze, unable to coerce my right arm to let go and grab the next hold.

“Get that red one,” Max said.

“I can’t.”

One iota of motion, and I’d fall. Instead of trying, I clung there, as if I were fifty feet in the air instead of five. The clinging surprised me. I had the energy to hold on, but not to advance.

“One more push, and you can rest,” Max whispered.

Four inches. My pinkie stretched toward the hold. “Come on, body. Come on,” I said.

No matter how I insisted, my hands refused to listen. My fingers ached from their crimped grip; my legs quivered beneath me. In the end, I fell off and landed on the mat.

“Really good,” Max said.

“Yeah.” I gave him my best fake nod. “That part where I got stuck was transcendent.”

“No worries. All my climbs ended that way in the beginning.”

Massaging the pads on my raw palms, I asked, “What happened to change that?”

“I fell, and it didn’t kill me. So I decided that if I was going to fall, I might as well fall moving up.”

What he said seemed to have more to do with my recent decision to move forward with the list than the climb I’d just attempted. Truth gets tucked into the strangest places.

“Wanna try again?” he asked.

I did. I wanted to try until I could do every climb on this wall. But not right now. I had another plan.

“Hey, how do you feel about a Waffle House run?” I asked, one eyebrow in a deviant arch.

“Love it.” He started toward the door.

I grabbed the back of his shirt. “Not that way.” I flicked my head toward the window. “It’s more fun if we’re sneaky.”

“There you are,” he said, and turned toward me.

“What do you mean?”

With the way Max smiled, we wouldn’t need the moon to light the way. “Your daredevil is back,” he said.

“Woo, Waffle House. Dangerous.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of my daredevil.” He pretended to reprimand me.

I threw up my hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it when waffles and bacon are at stake.”

Max dropped his FSU hat onto my head, stole a much longer kiss, and followed me out the window and into the night.

It was only Waffle House, but he was right. Part of me—a part I loved—reemerged as we crawled out that window.

Thank God for Waffle House and Max McCall.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


Friday morning, the sun climbed high in the sky, and I didn’t dare argue with its pleasant attitude. Better sun than rain for Pirates and Paintball.

I toweled off after a long shower, knowing I wouldn’t get another one until late Sunday night. As I packed, I imagined Trent tapping on my window with his pirate sword and asking if I thought this was the year he’d win. This would be the first Pirates and Paintball without him.

I whispered at his memory. “Sorry, friend. This isn’t the year.”

My phone buzzed.

Max: I might need some help with my pirate costume.

Me: Okay.

Max: You ready?

Me: I hope.

Max: See you soon.

I took some extra time to assemble my pirate costume and waited for five p.m., when all four families would descend on the McCalls’s house. Mom watched for the Adlers and Garrisons through the living room window and clicked off the living room light when they arrived.

Five on the dot.

“All right, Sadie baby. Get your game face on,” she told me.

I traced the scar up from my mouth. “Do I look tough?”

“You take everything too literally.”

“You take everything too seriously,” I said, shouldering my bags.

“You have what you need?”

I nodded, but she went through the checklist anyway. “Paintball gun? Sleeping bag? Pillow? Toothbrush?”

“Mom, I’m not a kid.”

She continued. “Book? Pirate costume? Cards? Big?”

I nodded yes to everything except Big and kept nodding as she listed the contents of my entire bag.

“Hey, have you gotten any more of those envelopes in the mail?” she asked.

I said no, but I found it curious that she said Big’s name and then jumped straight to the envelopes.

“Hmm. What a mystery.”

“I told you. It’s just a little joke someone’s playing on me. Tell Dad to come on.”