Just Deserts (22 page)

That took away any possible confusion around what that kiss meant, but really, she
was
like my sister.

“Now, let's catch up to them,” I said.

“No, let's not just catch them,” she replied, “let's get in front of them!”

THE SUN HAD DIPPED DOWN
so low that the hills and dunes cast shadows, some long enough for us to hide in. There was still at least thirty minutes before it disappeared completely, and another fifteen minutes after that when there'd still be light. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, so we'd eventually have the light from the stars and moon to help show us the way.

I did a mental update of the distance we'd travelled as I counted off another thousand steps: forty-six kilometres. That was at least four kilometres more than I'd ever walked before—and except for Larson, four kilometres more than any of us had ever gone. Even Andy, that marathon-running, cross-country-biking cyborg, had never gone this far before.

We were, officially, doing an ultra-marathon, with another nine kilometres still to go to reach the halfway mark in our two-day trek to Tunis. Nine kilometres, nine thousand steps, an hour and a half of walking, and the day would be over.

We were still moving together, but no longer beside each other. Larson led, followed by Andy a few strides behind. Next, much farther back, was Connor, and Kajsa was right on his tail. I was bringing up the rear. I could have kicked a little harder and caught them, but I liked being in the back. It was reassuring to see them all in front of me. And it was a good place to be if you wanted to count steps,
think, or talk to yourself, and I was doing a lot of all three.

When this had all started, I was too angry and shocked to even begin to think about anything, including what I was going to do when I reached Tunis. It hadn't been real enough to warrant thinking about my future when every ounce of my energy was needed just to survive the present. Now, still a day's distance away, it was more real. What was I going to do when I got there?

The first couple of steps were no-brainers. I was going to the lawyer's office to collect the money. Next, I was going to have a big, cold, long, bottomless drink … of water. Whatever steps came next—and those were the ones I wasn't sure of—needed to be made with a clear, sober mind. I wasn't going to commit to giving up drinking, but that was definitely something I could think about later. If I was going to drink, that, like everything, was my decision to make.

The first option was the simplest. Get on a plane, fly home and see my father. I just didn't know if I should, or could, do that. First off, was it really my home? Second, even when I got there, what would I say to him? Would he expect me to thank him, or break down in tears, or apologize? Because I wasn't ready for any of those. Or would we just fall into the old dynamic, with him putting me aside and me
trying to force him to see me? Would we slide into the same pattern of anger, annoyance and avoidance? Because if that happened, all of this had meant nothing. And it had to mean
something
.

I needed to talk, and there was only one person I wanted to talk to.

I pulled L'Orange out of my pocket. He was not looking well. He'd lost a lot of weight and was much more oval than round. His orange peel was still bright, but it was cracked and creased. I would have said something about how he was letting himself go, but who was I to talk? I was unwashed, sweat soaked, smelly beyond belief, and my feet were pulp. I guess, relatively speaking, L'Orange was in fine shape.

“So, L'Orange, have you ever been to New York?”

No answer.

“I didn't think so. We have many, many fine oranges in the States, although mainly from California and Florida … not so many in New York. We could go to one of those states instead. In fact, we could go anywhere in the entire world! Any thoughts? Is there any place you've always wanted to go, a place you have a passion for?”

Still no answer, but I understood. Where did
I
have a passion to go?

“Come on, I'd really like some feedback. After all we've been through, I really want to know what you have on your mind. You must have an opinion.”

“Ethan?”

For a split second, I thought it was L'Orange answering before I looked up to see Larson standing there, staring at me.

“That's quite the conversation you were having with yourself,” he said.

“I wasn't talking to myself. I was discussing things with my friend L'Orange of Tunisia,” I blurted out. I held out L'Orange for him to see.

He looked confused, then amused. He reached out his hand as though he was going to take L'Orange away!

“Very pleased to meet you, Monsieur L'Orange,” he said as he shook my hand—L'Orange's hand!

“He's not much for conversation, but he's pleased to meet you, too,” I said.

“Just because he doesn't answer doesn't mean he isn't part of the conversation,” Larson said. “Sorry for interrupting. It sounded serious.”

“Very. Just trying to decide what I'm going to do when I reach Tunis.”

“That
is
important. If you're looking for another opinion, I think I have an apple in my pack,” Larson offered.

I couldn't help but laugh.

“I'll let you get back to your discussion. I was just checking to see how you were doing,” he said.

“I'm having a lively conversation with an orange. How well do you think I'm doing?” I asked.

“Without trying to offend you, a lot better than I expected.”

“I'm not offended. I am doing a lot better than I thought.”

“A few days into this, I was starting to feel bad for you,” Larson said. “This whole thing, the shock of being here, the fact that you didn't want to be here, and really the complete lack of training. There was no way you should have been able to do this.”

“I
am
going to do this,” I said quietly.

“I know you are, and whether you think this is stupid or not, I'm proud of what you've done.”

I wanted to tell him it was stupid, to yell out that it wasn't fair, to tell him that crossing a desert wasn't anything to be proud of. I didn't.

“Thanks,” I said. “That means a lot, especially coming from you. But then again, until we reach Tunis, I haven't done anything.”

“If you stopped right now and didn't walk another step, you'd have done something.”

I shook my head. “Something would have been getting to Tunis and getting there earlier than we were supposed to.”

“Do you think that would impress your father?”

“I'm not trying to impress him or anybody else. I'm just trying to get to Tunis … and the sooner, the better. There is something about pushing harder than you've ever pushed before … and then pushing even
harder
.”

Larson smiled. “To do that, all we have to do is keep walking. Are you and your orange up to that?”

“We can go as long as we need to go.”

“Okay, and to keep walking, we all need to get closer together and put on our headlamps,” Larson suggested.

Headlamps … I had two in my pack.

“Then I guess we'd better catch up to the others. I have some of Kajsa's stuff in my pack, including her headlamp.”

“How did that happen?” he asked.

“Earlier today when she was struggling, I rearranged some things out of her bag while she was off relieving herself.”

“Does she know you did that?”

I shook my head. “I knew she'd just say no if I asked, and I figured she really needed a little help. The way she and Connor took some of Andy's stuff when he was so sick.”

I was suddenly feeling guilty, as though I'd stolen from her. “I didn't do anything wrong … did I?”

“I guess it depends on why you did it,” he said.

“I don't understand.”

“Did you take her things because you were worried she was going to slow us down and cost you money, or because you saw a friend who needed your help and would have been too proud to ask for it?”

“Even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me.”

“I wouldn't have believed you seven days ago,” he replied.

“And you think that somehow my walking across the desert has changed me
so
much?”

“Actually, I don't think it's changed you at all,” he said.

“Really?” I gasped. After all this, how could he not think it had had any impact?

“This experience hasn't
changed
who you are. It has simply
revealed
who you are.” He smiled. “How's that for a bumper sticker?”

I relaxed enough then to give him a smile. “I'd put that on my car … or my camel.”

“As would I. So, answer the question, why did you do it?”

“It isn't about the money,” I said. “I'm not sure when or why that changed, but it just isn't anymore.”

“Then why?”

“To help,” I said quietly. “I was just trying to be a friend … I saw that she needed help and I was there to offer it … the way I know she would have offered to help me. I guess I haven't had much practice with this friend thing.”

“That's okay,” he said, and then he smiled and put an arm around my shoulders. “You'll have plenty of time to practise in the years to come.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

WE MOVED IN A TIGHT LITTLE FORMATION
, with Larson leading, Kajsa and me tight behind, and Andy and Connor in a pair right on our tails. We were so close that the beams from all five headlamps blurred together into one patch of light. Larson had insisted that we stay this close, but I really didn't think we needed much encouragement. Being together, in the light, gave us a feeling of safety. Alone out there was eerie. I knew that from experience, but I think the others just instinctively knew it. Of course, Larson's explanation that when the sun went down, other things came out—vipers and scorpions and bugs that bite—hadn't hurt the cause.

Kajsa wasn't angry at me when she found out. She gave me another kiss on the cheek. She did, however, insist on taking back all her things. She wanted to carry her “own weight.” She even tried to convince me that she should take a couple of things out of
my
pack to make it up to me. I said no way, and I noticed that she didn't fight too hard.

There was something very, very different about travelling in the dark. It wasn't just that we were free of the sun and it was much cooler—although those facts were refreshingly wonderful. It was what we could see—or, to be more accurate, what we couldn't see. Our entire world seemed to be no bigger than the width and length of the throw of our headlamps. There was a whole world out there, but for us, it wasn't real. All that was real was a bobbing, travelling patch of light and the five people walking within it.

Larson stopped and we all instantly came to a halt. He held up his hand, and in unison, without the need for words, we all responded by turning off our lights. It instantly became jet black, and then, as our eyes began to adjust, we could see. Up in the sky the stars began to reappear—not that they hadn't been there, but now they were revealed … sort of like what Larson had said about me. They were always up there, above New York or London or Paris, just the same as they were above the desert. Sometimes you just couldn't see them.

And right now, Larson needed to see them. He was using the stars to navigate, to show us the way we had to travel. We'd stopped like this five times already. That was the only thing I'd been counting. I didn't know how many steps we'd travelled, and I didn't even want to look at my watch.

“Congratulations,” Larson said, breaking the silence.

“We're here?” Connor asked. “We've done it?”

“We've done it. We've travelled fifty-five kilometres today.”

There was a chorus of cheers and a slapping of backs, and everybody in turn gave everybody else—including me—a hug.

“But how can you be so sure?” I asked.

“I know this spot. I just needed my eyes to adjust enough to recognize it. We're at the halfway mark. We went fifty-five kilometres today and we have fifty-five left to travel tomorrow. Let's set up camp and—”

“What if we
don't
set up camp?” I asked.

“We're here,” Larson said. “We've reached our goal for the day.”

“An amazing goal!” Connor exclaimed.

“It is amazing,” Larson said. “I've never had anybody travel this far in one day before.”

I took two steps farther along the trail. “I'm just saying … why are we stopping right now?”

“We have to stop somewhere,” Larson said, “unless you're planning on walking all the way to Tunis tonight.”

“No, of course not. That would be impossible. But why stop right here, right now? I can go a little bit farther. Can other people?”

“I'm good to go,” Andy said.

I knew I could count on him.

“I could go a bit farther,” Kajsa said, and Connor nodded along in agreement.

“I'm just thinking that any step we take tonight is a step we don't have to take tomorrow,” I said. “And right now, I still have some steps in me.” I paused. “I really don't want to just stand here and talk about it. Standing is so hard on the knees. Could we at least walk a little and talk about it while we're walking?”

“It's not up to me,” Larson said. “What do you four want to do?”

“All in favour of walking a bit farther?” Andy said, and he held up his hand as if he was voting. Three other hands joined his.

And just like that, we started walking again into the night.

“
ETHAN
…
WAKE UP
.”

I was startled ever so slightly, but came back to reality quickly. I got to my feet and flicked on my headlamp, and the sleeping bag that had been wrapped around my shoulders dropped to the ground. I picked it up and stuffed it back into my pack. The others were doing the same.