The Distance from Me to You (9 page)

“They're goldfinches,” McKenna said.

“So I read,” Sam said, holding up the book. “Can you tell what it is before you see it, if you hear its song?”

She nodded. “I've had the book for a while.”

“Very cool,” Sam said. “There's this one bird that's been driving me insane. Long note. Then a few short notes. It was
pretty at first, but I've heard it so much in every state I've walked through. If something drives you that crazy you should at least know what it is.”

“Sounds like an eastern towhee.”

She took the book back from him and leafed through, then pressed the button. At the recorded sound, a real eastern towhee answered from a nearby tree. They laughed.

“That's it,” he said.

“You can borrow the book, if you want.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. You can just give it to me when we run into each other again. If it won't make your pack too heavy.”

Sam hesitated, then smiled. “Sure,” he said. “Thanks. I walked all the way up here from West Virginia listening to the birds, wondering what they were called.”

“I thought you said you walked from Georgia.”

She expected him to look embarrassed at being caught in a lie, but he didn't. Instead, he looked amused.

“Yeah, well, I only started wondering about the birds in West Virginia.”

McKenna swept the last of her things into her pack.

“You sure you don't want to stick around?” Sam said. “I bet they have a good breakfast planned. And the Notch isn't easy.”

“No,” McKenna said. “I want to walk a good way today.”

“Want help with that?” he asked, pointing to her bag.

“No thanks. I got it.” She heaved her massive pack onto her back, trying not to hope he'd be impressed.

“Bye,” he said, his gaze focused intently on her.

“Bye,” she said.

She had only walked a few steps when he called out to her. “Hey, Mackenzie.”

Something like laughter gathered in her chest and she recognized it as happiness—at being teased, flirted with, by such a handsome guy. She seriously needed to get going.

“What?” she said, trying her best to sound annoyed.

“You don't have to worry about me cramping your style on the trail. I'll pass you in an hour or so, and you'll have the whole place to yourself.”

Her happiness disappeared. She wasn't angry at Sam in particular. More at the fact that every person she ran into, male or female, couldn't wait to doubt her—to doubt her ability to hike the whole trail, to walk fast, to know what she needed along the way.

Who cares, McKenna thought. Let them doubt her. She would show them.

She didn't bother saying good-bye or even waving. She just turned, adjusted her straps, and headed toward Mahoosuc Notch.

Just as Sam expected
, the college girls got up and made an excellent breakfast, complete with fresh eggs fried in butter, and coffee.

“You girls trying the Notch today?” Sam asked.

“Are you kidding?” Ashley handed him her half-finished plate of eggs. Sam had already wolfed his down—who knew when he'd stumble on this kind of feast again? “I tried it once two years ago and nearly broke my ankle. Why don't you hang with us today, do a mellow hike, and spend another night?”

Her voice had that lilt girls got when they were trying to sound casual, but not quite pulling it off. Last night Sam had made out with Ashley a little after the others finally stumbled to their tents. By then he'd realized that Ashley was several steps beyond buzzed, and he was feeling very conscious of the other people around. So he'd cut things short, telling her he didn't want to take advantage, in a way that would let him off the hook but still earn enough points to be fed in the morning.

“Thanks,” Sam said. “It's tempting, for sure, but I got to get south.”

“Right,” said the tall girl. Sam thought her name started with a
B
. He could tell she didn't like him very much. “Better hurry south.”

Sam sipped coffee out of a tin mug, returning her challenging gaze. What was she accusing him of, exactly? Being a player? He'd been invited last night, and he hadn't played—not much, anyway. He wondered if she thought he wanted to chase after McKenna, and then, since she basically had no reason to think that, wondered if he
did
want to chase after McKenna. Of the group of last night's girls, she was the one he'd spoken to least and yet she was the only one besides Ashley whose name he was sure of.

She had been so damned cute this morning, with her bed head and lopsided pack. He wondered how she'd do climbing through the deep pit of rocks that formed the Notch.

“Here,” B said, thrusting her half-finished plate at Sam. “You might as well finish mine, too.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Oh, look,” Ashley said. “That girl. Her tent's already gone. Did she take off?”

“I guess so,” Sam said.

“She was nice,” said B.

“She was,” another one of them agreed. “But I don't think she's going to make it to Georgia.”

• • •

When Sam hiked the AT in the opposite direction, he'd crossed Mahoosuc Notch on a rainy day with no idea of what lay ahead of him. He'd had nothing to eat but wild mushrooms and raw scallion grass for three days. The Notch was a mile-long gap in the mountain range, crammed with giant boulders that you had to crawl over, and between, and sometimes under. It had by far been the longest mile of his northbound walk. At least today it wasn't raining, he had two full meals in his stomach, and while he wasn't looking forward to the deep, rock-filled ditches—many of which he'd had to climb on his hands and knees—at least they wouldn't take him by surprise. The sun shone incredibly hot today, though. That was the trade-off he'd made for eating breakfast and starting late. The last blackfly of the season buzzed around his head and he knew better than to expend energy trying to wave it away. Instead, he gritted his teeth and started walking.

Sam's pack was ancient—green canvas like Mike's crummy tent, with an exterior frame. It pretty much only had room for his sleeping bag and tent, a change of clothes, and the big wool sweater he'd found in a free box outside Harpers Ferry, plus a plastic garbage bag in case of rain, a few bandannas, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. Despite traveling light, it was still hard to balance as he made his way between and around the boulders, his breath heavy in his own ears.

He thought of McKenna, how tiny she'd looked marching
off with that huge red pack stuffed to the gills. How much did that thing weigh? It had amused him, seeing all the stuff she had laid out, the expression on her face as she packed—like she had to check all the boxes on her checklist. Like all that stuff could help her overcome whatever challenges lay ahead. Of course Sam knew better.

He struggled over an especially huge boulder. Reaching for a handhold, he slipped backward, his ankle scraping mercilessly against the rock and landing him back in the deep ditch. Damn. He knew he should have put on socks, but both pairs he had were so skanky and stiff. The sneakers he'd been wearing when he left his dad's house had taken a good beating by now, too. Next time he got to town he'd have to find some duct tape.

He stopped and inspected the wound, took a minute to dig out a bandanna and mop up the blood, then tied it tightly around his ankle. He could swear he'd cut himself in exactly the same place, on exactly this rock, on his way to Maine. If he was calculating correctly, that meant he was almost through the Notch.

From somewhere in the distance—a tree above the boulders—he heard a high note that had been sounding all through Maine. Thanks to McKenna he finally knew what it was. Since he was stopped anyway, he pulled out the book she'd given him, leafing through it, pressing buttons. He'd never seen a book like this before. It was sweet of McKenna to lend it to
him. He couldn't help wondering how she'd done through this part of the trail, if he'd come close to catching up with her. If he was having a hard time, he could only imagine how she was faring with that gigantic pack.

• • •

Earlier in the day, McKenna's pack had made it hard to get through the Notch, for sure, but she'd started in the cool of the morning, the heat not beginning in earnest until she was almost done. The rocks were even more impressive, and harder to traverse, than the pictures she'd seen had led her to believe. She had to balance carefully, making use of handholds and then taking off her pack and lowering it to the ground. At one point, she threw her pack over two rocks and instead of climbing over, tried to slide between them. Halfway through she realized it was a bad idea. She may have lost a little weight in the past few weeks, but she wasn't so narrow that she couldn't get stuck. For a moment she thought she
was
stuck, and the adrenaline that idea inspired allowed her to kick backward, out of the wedge. Then she climbed over, pressing down so hard on the rock that she scraped the inside of her palm.

Slowly, carefully, McKenna made it through the Notch. It was by far the longest mile of her trek so far, if you didn't count that wasted first day. When she got to the other end she shrugged off her pack. Every inch of her high-tech T-shirt, which was supposed to wick away sweat, was completely drenched.

She dug into her pack for the dry bag containing her phone and food. She'd eaten two bowls of that awesome chili, but
that had been fourteen hours ago by now. She'd burned so many calories on that arduous climb, her stomach was beyond growling—it felt raked with emptiness, ready to start cramping in complaint. But the phone beckoned McKenna even more than a snack. She told herself she was just checking the time, but she couldn't help also seeing the notifications of messages, texts, and e-mail. She stuffed it back down to the bottom of her pack. Wednesday and Friday, she told herself. She would text her mom and that was it. No more phone. She wished she'd thought to trade her smartphone for Lucy's plain old flip phone, then at least she wouldn't be tempted by the Internet.

From behind her, back in the Notch, McKenna heard the
teacher-teacher-teacher
of an ovenbird. And then, after a minute, she heard a cardinal's song, followed by a goldfinch, followed by a red-winged blackbird. She quickly realized it was Sam, playing with the book she'd given him.

McKenna paused. Part of her wanted to wait for him. She hadn't gotten close to sweating out all her breakup blues, and she felt lonely.

A larger part instantly rebelled against this idea. She unwrapped a granola bar, then shoved everything back into her pack and heaved it onto her still-not-dry back. She continued down the trail as fast as she could.

• • •

Because she knew the Notch would be difficult and exhausting, McKenna had only planned to go about five miles today, before camping at Full Goose Shelter. Instead she just stopped
there to fill up her water bottles in the stream, not bothering with the filter, just plopping in iodine tablets. She might not make it to the Carlo Col Shelter, another six miles away, before dusk, but she could put on her headlamp, and as long as there was space in the shelter she could sleep on one of the platforms and not worry about setting up her tent. She tamped down any doubts and kept walking. For one thing, she wanted to put distance between her and Sam. For another, if she stopped to camp now, she knew she'd be in danger of breaking down and calling Brendan.

One foot in front of the other. One hour after another.

The straps of her pack dug into her shoulders, and sweat dripped off her forehead into her eyes. By the time the heat subsided—McKenna knew it had to be close to evening, but her phone had been shoved to the bottom of her pack, so she didn't know the exact time—she'd managed to finish both gritty-tasting bottles of water. She wasn't sure how much more she had to go till she reached Carlo Col, but she could hear water running, a good-sized stream, just off the trail. She decided for the first time to venture off—it was just a hundred yards or so from the sound of it, so she wasn't breaking a rule, not really. She promised herself she would only walk a straight line and would turn around if it took more than a couple of minutes.

That initial step off the trail felt terrifying, and then exhilarating. McKenna laughed at herself. Within twenty steps downhill, she had found it, probably the same creek that ran
behind the Full Goose Shelter. She knelt down to fill the first water bottle and when she raised her eyes she saw a black bear kneeling on the other side of the creek in almost the exact same squat as her. McKenna thought she heard the bear inhale abruptly, as if she'd startled it.

Everything inside her froze. And then total, abject terror.

A bear. Three times the size of the biggest human she'd ever seen. Huge and furry and inscrutable, staring right at her.

Very slowly, McKenna unbent her knees and rose to standing.
Make yourself look tall
, she had read,
if you come into contact with a bear.

Apparently the bear had received the same advice because he stood up, too, and did a much more convincing job. He was so huge and wide, she couldn't think of anything to compare him to. Hundreds of pounds of pure muscle and fur. The only instruments of defense she had, her pepper spray and whistle, were tucked into the bottom of her pack, impossible to reach. Not that she could imagine either tool being helpful at this moment.

McKenna turned and fled back up the embankment, scrambling as fast as she could, the sound of her grasping hands and feet drowning out any sense of whether the bear had decided to follow. The sight of the trail behind the trees was comforting, a destination, but at the same time McKenna knew it didn't mark any real kind of refuge—if the bear wanted to maul her, he could do it just as easily on the trail.

Just as that visual bloomed in her mind, McKenna lost her
footing. The trail quickly receded in front of her as she tumbled down, her legs scraping through rocks and brambles, sliding and rolling until her feet landed back in the stream, and her pack landed with a disheartening
crunch
beside her.

Panting heavily, she sprang to her feet. But the space across the creek was empty; the bear had disappeared much more silently and gracefully than she ever could. Her heart still pounding eight thousand miles a minute, McKenna retrieved the water bottle she'd dropped and filled it again. She plopped in iodine tablets and headed back up to the trail, noting with despair that she had rolled through a thicket of poison ivy.

She righted her pack on her shoulders and thought about jogging, which seemed fairly impossible given the uphill incline, the weight of her bag, and the exhaustion already setting in as the adrenaline subsided. The bear must have retreated, she would've been able to hear it if it were following her. So she didn't run, but just walked more briskly than usual. Her body smarted from the fall and she fretted over the rash that might spring up in a couple days. Poison ivy was not something she wanted to deal with out here.

As these complaints continued to form in her head, McKenna commanded herself to put things in perspective. The alternative, after all, was being mauled by an enormous bear.
I'm alive,
she reminded herself.

Which was more than she could say for her phone.

She didn't inspect it until she'd reached Carlo Col, miraculously finding the shelter empty. She shrugged off her pack,
dousing herself with anti–poison ivy wipes first thing. Then she cooked red beans and rice on her stove. The campsite had a bear box, and she carefully packed her food into it before heading back to the shelter. Only then did she face the damage, emptying everything from her pack and spreading the contents over two platforms. The very last thing she pulled out was her phone. So much for the supposedly foolproof case. The phone was smashed, mangled, and completely dead.