Spoiled Rotten (5 page)

The undergrowth at the top of the cliff was thick and scratchy. I held my hands in front of my face and pushed my way through, but by then I couldn't tell where Amy was.

“Amy?” I yelled.

There was no answer.

“Amy. Talk to me. Help me find you.”

“I'm here.” Her frightened voice was right below my feet.

Cautiously, clinging to a tree trunk for support, I peeked over the edge. And there was that pink scrunchy. What a beautiful sight.

Pushing aside thick bushes, I lay down and threw one arm over the edge. If only I had thought to bring some rope. But it was too late for that. I reached for her wrist. Found it. Grabbed it. She clung on like a leech. But I couldn't lift her.

“Amy,” I tried to sound calm, shouting over the river noise. “You've got to help me here. Pull with your free hand and push with your toes. You've got to find that next foothold.”

“I can't!” she screamed.

“Amy, screaming is a waste of energy. You can do it. You have to.”

Her hand trembled in mine. I needed to get her moving

“Okay, Amy. Take a deep breath. On three I start to pull.” I didn't dare give her time to think. “One, two, three…”

Flat on my stomach with my feet wrapped around bushes behind, I pulled with all my strength. She must have helped because soon I could reach her other wrist. I inched my way backward, pulling her with me.

At last she was safe, lying on the trampled bushes, panting for air. She stared at me with frightened eyes.

I sat up, shaking all over. Neither of us spoke.

After a while Amy sat up too. Her eyes had a dazed look. Her face was white as milk and her bottom lip quivered. “You saved my life,” she whispered.

“No,” I said, trying to cheer her up. “You would have been all right.”

She shook her head. “I was so scared.” She looked down at her trembling hands. “I guess my father was right.”

“Don't be dumb,” I said. “You got stuck in a bad spot; it could happen to anyone.”

To change the subject I asked, “How about some food? I brought bagels and…” That's when I remembered my pack at the bottom of the cliff.

But Amy took off her knapsack and started fishing around in it. She pulled out two oranges and a plastic bag full of muffins. They were squashed and broken, but we didn't care. We wolfed them down.

“When did you pack these?” I asked through a mouthful.

“I, uh, oh …” She studied her fingernails. “Last night.”

“So you
were
spying on me, you little brat!”

Her head jerked back as if I had punched her. She looked away. “I didn't mean to, I just looked up when you were wrapping those bagels, then I saw you pack some clothes and I figured it out. I wanted to come with you.”

“Why?”

Amy still didn't look at me. She bit into her orange and the juice ran down her chin.
“I thought it would be fun.” She wiped her chin with the back of her hand. In a small voice she added, “I thought you might start to like me.”

I almost choked on my orange. “I didn't know you wanted me to like you.”

She looked at me then, her eyes wide. “Of course I do,” she said. Then she turned away again. “I just don't know how.”

“Well,” I said, “you could start by not being such a jerk when my dad and Patti are around.”

She glanced at me sideways. “I can't seem to help it,” she admitted. “I want them to like me too.”

“Of course they like you. You get good grades, you always wear the right clothes, you're insanely neat and, even more important, you never give them
the look
.” I rolled my eyes.

Amy grinned. “But they still like you better. You're good at everything and I'm— well—hopeless.”

I snorted and got to my feet. “That's sure not the way I see it.”

Amy stood up too and brushed leaves and twigs from her jeans.

“I guess you want to turn back now?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? I want to find that lake!”

Suddenly I felt very old and disgustingly responsible. “But my dad and your mother will be worried.”

“No they won't. I left them a note. It said I went with you and we'd be gone for the whole day.” She smiled, quite pleased with herself.

“You did? So you just assumed I'd let you come?”

Her smile went crooked.

“Okay, listen, Amy,” I said honestly. “I just don't think you can do it. I've got to climb down anyway to get my backpack. I'll help you down the cliff and then you can follow the stream back to the boat.”

Amy's face turned a lovely shade of green.

“Or, I can go with you.”
Shoot! Did I say that?

“You can't make me go back!” She picked up her knapsack and glared at me stubbornly.

I gave her
the look
, but of course it didn't work on Amy. She was right, like it or not, I was stuck with her. “Wait here,” I ordered and started back down the cliff for my pack.

We climbed for hours, and I was so hungry my stomach ached, but I didn't want to be the first to stop. Besides, I kept thinking that around the next bend we would suddenly come upon the lake.

We climbed up some rocks beside a low waterfall. At the top we had to cross the river again. It was a difficult jump, from a steep rock across fast-moving water.

“Maybe we should turn back,” I suggested. “We've come a long way.”

“You're not getting rid of me that easily!” Before I could stop her, Amy jumped. She landed on the far side and swung around with a huge grin on her face. “It's easy,” she said. “Need some help?”

I jumped across.

We hadn't gone much farther when Amy said she was hungry.

“Okay,” I told her, “around the next bend we'll stop and eat.”

We got a drink from the river and sat on some flat rocks. I took out the bagels and trail mix.

“What's this?” Amy asked.

She pointed at something dark and sticky-looking on the rock beside her. I looked more closely and saw berry seeds in it. I knew exactly what it was, but I didn't want to scare Amy. Who knew what she might do?

“What is it?” she insisted.

“Nothing.”

“Don't tell me it's nothing, I'm not that stupid. Is it from a cougar?”

“No, just a bear.”

“Crap!” She jumped to her feet.

I glanced up in surprise. That was the first time I'd heard Amy use a word like
crap
. If Dad ever heard her, he would probably say I had corrupted sweet little Amy. “Yes, it definitely is,” I grinned, “but, don't worry. It's not fresh poop.”

“Let's go,” Amy said.

“I thought you were hungry.”

“Not anymore.”

“Look,” I said calmly. “The bear could be anywhere by now. It could be ahead of us, it could be watching us from the forest. As long as we don't surprise it, it shouldn't bother us.”

But Amy refused to sit down. “I'm going,” she said and started off.

I groaned and shoved everything back into my backpack. I wished Sara were here instead of this stubborn kid. Sara could take care of herself, she loved to hike in the mountains and she wasn't afraid of a little bear poop.

The river got smaller and smaller until it was no more than a little creek. Bushes crowded in on both sides and there was no clear land at all. But we didn't want to quit, so we waded in, shoes and all. The shallow water was so cold it made my ankles hurt.

In front of me Amy climbed out at a small muddy spot and started rubbing her ankles. My shoes squished into soft mud as I waded over to join her.

“Look!” she said, her voice hushed.

Sunk deeply into the mud was the biggest bear print I had ever seen. It was so clear you could count all five of its toes. The bear's long slender claws showed too, and they pointed toward the bushes. A pathway of broken branches and trampled bushes led away from the stream. “It's a grizzly,” I said. “I think we should turn back right now.”

“No way!” Amy shook her head stubbornly. “I'm not quitting until we find that lake!”

“All right,” I said. I really wanted to find the lake too. We had come so far and I figured we were almost there now. I checked my watch. “But if we don't find it in half an hour we turn back. Agreed?”

Amy pressed her lips together, then she nodded. “Okay.”

Around the next bend we saw it. Smooth, blue water shining in sunlight. We waded toward it.

At the lake's edge we stopped. It wasn't a big lake—not much more than a pond, really. But it was beautiful. It was surrounded by green, forested hills that swooped down to
the water's edge. At the far end, peaking above the valley between two hills, a rugged, snow-capped mountain rose up to the sky. Its mirror image on the water was as clear as the mountain itself. The laughing cry of a loon echoed across the lake.

A fallen log lay half in the water where the lake emptied into the creek. We waded to the log, took off our backpacks and laid them on it. Then we took off our shoes and socks and put them in the hot sun. Mud squished between my toes in the shallow water. It felt good, but the water was cold, like the river. I wanted to get out.

On the far side of the log was a grassy area and I started toward it. Suddenly a shower of cold water hit me across the back. Amy laughed. I swung around and glared at her.

She went as pink as that stupid scrunchy that hung loosely from her messed-up hair. Quick as a flash I bent down and sent a spray of water into her face. She came at me like a windmill, flinging water with her arms and legs.

In the end I'm not sure who got the worst of it. We were both soaked when we staggered out, laughing, onto the grass.

Amy lay back in the sunshine, complaining about blisters on her feet. So I got out the first-aid kit. Dad always insisted I take it in my backpack, even on a short hike, and that day I was glad. I stuck Band-Aids on Amy's blisters. My feet were sore too, so I stuck a few Band-Aids on the worst blisters.

We each gobbled down a bagel and a chocolate bar. We saved the trail mix for later. Amy lay back again and closed her eyes. I pulled my sketchbook from my pack and flipped it open. But my eyelids were heavy and the sun shone warm on my face. My head drooped.

I heard a gasp. My head jerked up. Amy sat beside me, staring at my sketchbook, her eyes huge, her face white as death.

I looked down. There was my drawing of Amy being strangled.
The Brat
was printed in big letters and the sentence underneath said:
I'm telling you Sara, it's either Amy or me. One of us has got to go!

Her eyes turned to my face. “You want to get rid of me!” she whispered.

“No, Amy, of course not! I was just, you know, mad at you when I wrote that yesterday. You ruined my hike with Dad.”

“So, are you planning to leave me up here?”

“Yeah, right, Amy. I'm going to take off and leave you to the bears.”

She jumped to her feet and picked up her knapsack. Her eyes went all watery, like she was going to cry.

“Listen, Amy, if I wanted to get rid of you, why would I have helped you up the cliff? You said yourself that I saved your life.”

She looked uncertain.

“Besides,” I grinned, “you're not nearly as bad as I thought you were.”

“Thanks heaps,” she said and grinned back at me.

I glanced at my watch. “It's getting late. We need to get moving.”

Amy groaned.

We had no trouble wading back through the slow moving part of the river. The cold water felt good on our sore feet.

But soon the river began to spill over rocks as it twisted its way down the mountainside. We had to start crossing back and forth again. After a whole day of it, jumping from rock to rock gets very hard on the legs. Mine were tired and aching, so I knew
how Amy must feel. And the blisters didn't help either.

Amy dragged her feet as if they were made of lead. But she didn't complain, not once. When we got back to the bear dropping, she stepped over it like it wasn't even there.

The shadows of the tall evergreens crept across the river. I knew then that we should have turned back a lot earlier, but I hadn't counted on Amy being so tired. The air had cooled down quickly and we stopped to put on our jackets.

Amy jumped onto a flat rock in the middle of the river. All at once her legs gave out under her. She stumbled and fell sideways.

“You okay?” I called.

She sat up. “I need a rest,” she begged. “Just a few minutes. Please?”

I shook my head. I knew her leg muscles would seize up if she rested now, so I had to keep her moving.

“It's getting late,” I said. “We've got to get down the mountain before dark.”

“I don't care.” She whined, then caught herself. She looked up at me shyly, “I'm so tired.”

Her shoes were wet, her jeans were soaked from the knees down, her hair was a tangled mess and that stupid scrunchy still clung crookedly on top. She looked so pathetic I almost gave in but I didn't dare. “You do realize that bears usually come down to the river at dusk?” I asked.

She made a sad little noise in her throat and pushed herself up. “Okay, you win. I'm coming.”

We stopped above the small waterfall where Amy had easily jumped across earlier. Water rushed through a narrow gorge between two large rocks. The rock on the far side was so steep it would not be easy to land on, but we had no choice.

“I can't do it!” Amy said. “I'm too tired.”

“Of course you can,” I told her confidently. “Watch me.”

I didn't waste any time. I gathered my strength and pushed off, leaping over the fast water. One foot landed on the rock, the other slid into the water. I grabbed the pointed top of the rock and pulled myself to safety.

“See?” I called. “It's easy. Throw me your knapsack.”