This Is How It Ends (5 page)

I followed her down the path strewn with rocks, trickier under our slippery sneakers, and around a bend, and then suddenly she stepped off the trail.

“Come on!” she said when I didn't follow.

“That's not the path.” I pointed to the yellow arrow. “It's over here.”

“This way's faster.”

“But you can't do that, can you?”

Sarah snorted. “This is the Warrior Dash, Riley, not the Mary Sue Mud Run. You can do whatever gets you to the finish line.” Sarah grabbed my hand and tugged me toward her. “Come
on
!”

I followed her onto the tiny path, barely cleared, and could see right away she was right. It cut straight down the mountain, more treacherous but shorter than the route outlined on the Warrior Dash board at the base. A minute later we emerged onto the main Dash trail, still out of view of the patio, but I could hear the pumping beat of the base lodge music. Then the trail joined the bunny slope, and we could see people cheering and yelling where another group of runners was just taking off.

“Mud monsters!” an attendant yelled at us through a bullhorn. “Clear your numbers! I can't log your time.”

I swiped at my shirt, hoping it was good enough, because I was pretty much completely out of energy. Sarah and I crossed the line side by side, and she grinned at me, white teeth against her filthy face.

We bent over, breathing hard for a minute, then straightened up.

“Nice job,” she panted, holding up her hand.

I smacked it in a high five that sent mud flying everywhere. We burst out laughing, and were still trying to stop and catch our breath when Trip came over.

“Nice run,” he said, genuinely impressed. “But you guys are
disgusting.
”

Sarah snorted more laughter.

“What was our time?” I asked Trip.

“You beat me,” he said, answering my real question. “But Nat's team was
fast
. Looks like we've got some early mornings ahead of us.” He looked up, then pointed to the course. “Here come Tannis and her brothers.”

I glanced at Sarah and found her watching me, eyes sparkling. She winked. “Way to go, teammate,” she said, her voice low.

“You too.” We stared at each other for a beat too long, neither breaking eye contact, and I felt a different excitement, beyond the thrill of the race. I got why people ran the Dash now. You came out feeling different from when you went in, like you'd passed a test. Trial by fire. There was something special about doing it with someone else, which I guess is why they always had the ski teams and the football teams run together. Bonding.

Tannis had just crossed the finish line and was doubled over and panting when the commotion on the patio started. I didn't really notice it at first, loud voices among lots of other loud voices, but then a few became clearer. Not just loud but wrong somehow. Angry.

I walked closer.

“. . . going to have to leave. Now!”

“What? I can't join the rest of you fancy people? You too good for me? I see lots of other townies here.”

I recognized that voice, even though I'd only heard it once. I could tell Trip did too by the way he stiffened, then moved quickly toward the patio. We followed him and stopped by the edge of the crowd, where a circle had cleared around the man in the center.

Natalie's dad stood, hands on his hips, facing off against Bill Winston, who was neat and tidy and absolutely furious. Mr. Cleary's shirt was stained and misbuttoned, and he looked like he'd aged about fifteen years since I'd seen him last. “Randall,” Mr. Winston said quietly, “this isn't the place—”

“I can't come here and watch my own daughter?” His voice was louder. “Can't even cheer on my—”

Natalie stepped out of the crowd then, and I felt myself cringing for her. Everyone watched as she approached him. “Come on, Daddy,” she said. “Let's go.”

“Natty!” He gave her a big grin. “There you are!” He took an unsteady step toward her, stumbled, and almost fell. He frowned as she took his arm and pulled gently. “Why you doin' that?”

“We have to go,” she said, desperation creeping into her voice.

His frown changed to a hard disappointed look. “You, too?” he said. “You're too good for your own daddy now? I seen that coming, Nat. And I told you what happens, you let these fancy ski people get in your head.” His voice had gotten louder and louder, and he swept his arm toward the crowd. “Fucking tourists,” he spat more quietly. But not quietly enough.

Nat looked ready to burst into tears.

And then Trip stepped in. “Mr. Cleary,” he boomed, striding across the empty space surrounding Nat and her dad. “I haven't seen you in forever!” He gave Mr. Cleary a huge grin, shook his hand, and clapped him on the back like they were old friends.

Nat's dad squinted at him, then grinned. “Holy shit. Is that little Trip Jones? How'd you get so damned big?”

Trip leaned in close and, though Mr. Cleary looked like he reeked, kept up a smile. “Broccoli,” he stage-whispered, and gave a huge, hearty laugh. Trip sounded half-crazy, but he didn't stop until Mr. Cleary started laughing along with him.

“Hey! Did Natalie show you the new lockers and lounge? Holy crap, they're awesome. Totally first class. You gotta come see . . .” Trip kept talking, pulling Mr. Cleary like a kid dragging his dad to a candy store. Nat tagged along, Bill Winston close behind. The rest of us stared after them as they went down the steps, away from the patio.

Music continued to pound, like it probably had the whole time, but to me it felt like everything had stopped, like everyone had been watching when Nat's dad showed up. In reality most people probably hadn't noticed anything amiss. But it wouldn't feel like that to Natalie.

Or Bill Winston.

Or Mr. Cleary when he sobered up or came down or whatever.

“Wow,” Tannis said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Wow.”

CHAPTER 6

I FIGURED NATALIE WOULD SKIP
the Dash party after the scene at the mountain. She and Trip didn't come back to the patio, but Sarah, Tannis, and I hung around, watching the rest of the race and letting the last of the mud dry on the parts we hadn't cleaned yet.

Trip called about an hour later. Tannis and I didn't bother trying to hide that we were listening, so Sarah just put him on speaker.

“. . . with me. We're going to shower up here and head to the party a little later.”

Tannis raised her eyebrows.

“Does Nat need clothes?” Sarah asked. “I could bring her some.”

“No. She grabbed some when we dropped off her dad.”

“How is she?” Tannis asked.

Trip hesitated for a second. “Fine.” Which of course meant not fine at all but that she was sitting right there.

“You think there's anything we can do?” Sarah said. “Is she okay to go tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I think that's the best thing. We'll just all stick together, right?”

“Definitely,” we agreed.

Sarah hung up, and she, Tannis, and I looked at one another, Tannis saying what was on all of our minds. “I wish she didn't have to go home. Like, ever.”

“What a shitty way to live,” Sarah said tightly. “I can't imagine why she puts up with it.”

“He's her dad,” I said. “People are willing to forgive their parents a lot sometimes. At least as much as they blame them for.”

Sarah cocked her head, looking at me with a little smile. “That's very philosophical, Ri,” she said. “And very true.”

After that, I took off for home and my second shower of the day.

***

The five of us walked into the party at John Peters's house just after eight. Music was blaring on the deck that overlooked the town down in the valley. It seemed like half the crowd from the base lodge was already there. Inside, a bunch of Nat's ski team friends were clustered around a table, playing a game with dice and poker chips. A couple of guys stood near the TV, watching football, while other people were playing darts and foosball.

Natalie was sandwiched between Trip and Tannis, looking like she half-hoped the floor might swallow her up. John Peters broke away from the other skiers and came over as soon as he saw her.

“Hey, Nat. Glad you made it. Nice Dash today.”

“Thanks, John.” She smiled wanly, waiting for the obvious questions about her dad. But John completely sidestepped it.

“My parents put in a hot tub this year, out on the deck. You guys want to come see?”

She looked up at him gratefully. “Sure.”

Tannis, Trip, and I watched them go out, John walking carefully beside Natalie, Sarah tagging along behind.

“Hey, Trip!” Galen Riddock came over and exchanged a fist bump with Trip, ignoring me and Tannis. “You bring any beverages?”

Trip shook his head. “No time. I had that thing with Nat's dad—”

“Yeah, that was something, huh?” Galen shook his head. “That dude's a fucking mess. Man, was Winston pissed. My dad said he ripped mountain security a new one. Couldn't believe no one stopped Cleary before he got out there. I heard he fired the shift manager on the spot.”

“Jesus,” Trip said. “How could they have known?”

“I don't think Winston really gave a shit,” Galen said. “Listen . . .” He leaned in closer to Trip. “You score anything when you were up there? You know, with Nat's dad?”

Trip frowned. “You know I'm not into that stuff.”

“You're no fun, Jones.”

“I'm lots of fun.”

Galen snorted. “Gonna be a different kind of party this year, I guess. Good, clean small-town fun, eh, Tripper?”

“Nothin' wrong with that,” Trip said evenly.

Galen rolled his eyes. “Later.”

We all knew the Dash after-party would be tamer, after last year's had gotten out of hand. It had been at Marshall Blume's farm a few miles outside town. His parents had been away, and pretty much everyone knew it. Lots of people showed up who weren't friends with him or anyone else on the ski team. Lots of alcohol and drugs. Two weeks later some freshman had been found dead in her bedroom. An overdose. It hadn't happened at the after-party, but word travels, and adults aren't stupid. Between Marshall's party and the girl's death, they'd figured out there was a problem. Someone even went up and questioned Nat's dad, but word had traveled to him too, and whatever usually went on up there was tucked away by the time the police showed up. There probably wouldn't have been a party this year at all if John Peters's dad hadn't offered to host it. He was a town cop, and I'd already seen him talking with kids out on the deck, making sure everything stayed well under control.

“I'm going to see if I can get in on the game,” Tannis said, nodding toward the dice table. “You guys want to come?”

Trip shook his head. “Nah. I'm gonna go find Sarah and Nat. You coming, Ri?”

“Sure.”

We grabbed sodas and made our way through the crowd and out onto the deck. The Peterses lived one ridge over from the ski trails. Not prime real estate, since you couldn't get to the slopes from there, but the view was pretty sweet. John's dad had grown up in this house. It wasn't big or done up like the trailside homes, but he was pretty handy and had built an addition and I guess saved enough for a hot tub. They had it running, underwater lights changing from blue to purple to green. It looked really cool. If it had been at Marshall Blume's house last year, there would have been about twenty people in it by the end of the night, naked or fully clothed. I was pretty sure the Peterses' hot tub would stay empty, just there for decoration.

“Hey, loser.” Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to find Matty Gretowniak leaning against the railing.

“What are you doing here?” I said, still feeling the sting of his comments about the SATs but otherwise glad to see him. Most of the kids there were skiers or partiers or jocks. I was none of the above, and neither was he, as far as I knew.

“Having a Coke. Enjoying the view. You?”

“Trolling for chicks.”

Matty laughed. “Good luck with that. I came with my sister,” he admitted. “She's on the ski team this year.”

“Awesome,” I said. “Point her out, and I'll troll in that direction.”

“Don't you dare.”

Trip had continued on without me, and I saw him on the far side of the deck with the girls and John. “You run today?” I asked Matty.

“Are you kidding?” he said. “That course is brutal. You ever done it?”

“About five hours ago.”

Matty whistled. “Impressive. Brains and brawn.”

“You know, Matty,” I said, “you keep talking like that, and I'm gonna start thinking you have a thing for me.”

“Well, now that you mention it . . . ,” he joked. “Actually, I was checking out your friend.”

“Trip? He's got a girlfriend.”

“No, you idiot.” Matty cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “The girl. Tannis.”

“Tannis?” My eyebrows shot up. “She's not—” I stopped, realizing that what I'd been about to say—
She's not a girl—
was mean. I might rag on Tannis to her face, but I didn't want to do it behind her back. “Not seeing anyone,” I finished.

Matty nodded, glancing out at the view. “Maybe you'll, you know, make the introductions later or something?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little shell-shocked at the thought of it. “I'm gonna go catch up to Nat and those guys.” I nodded toward where they stood.

“Yup,” Matty said, and then added, “I heard there was a bit of a scene at the base lodge today with her dad.”

“A little. No biggie,” I told him, hoping it was true. If there was one cardinal rule in Buford, it was that you didn't mess with tourism. I guess Nat's dad hadn't gotten the memo. I walked toward Nat, feeling bad that even Matty knew about it. His sister had probably told him, but still. It was one of the things I hated about Buford. Everyone knew too much about everyone else.

By the time I made it across the deck, Nat and John Peters had ducked back inside, where the rest of the ski team was, and Mr. Peters had taken their place with Trip and Sarah.

“It was nothing,” Trip was saying.

“You're too modest,” Mr. Peters said. “That was damn ugly. Bill Winston was steaming mad. Wants to press charges. I don't think anyone at the mountain knew what to do, but word is, you diffused it perfectly.”

Trip waved his hand in an
Aw, shucks
sort of way.

“What are your plans after graduation?” Mr. Peters asked him.

“I'm not sure,” Trip said. “College, I guess.”

Mr. Peters nodded. “Well, whatever it is, I'm sure you'll do great. Thanks for helping us all out today.” He stuck out his hand to shake. “I'm off to make sure there's no other trouble. After that Milosevich girl's OD, a snowless winter, and now today, it's the last thing we need.”

“Bad things happen in threes,” Sarah said.

“Hope you're right.” Mr. Peters waved and walked away.

Trip, Sarah, and I stayed there for a while, talking to the kids around us, some of them from our classes, some having run the Dash today too. At one point I spotted Matty talking to Tannis, both of them half a head taller than anyone else around. Unbelievable.

The football guys started an arm wrestling tournament inside and summoned Trip. “You mind?” he asked Sarah, already being dragged off by Galen.

“Go.” She smiled, waving him away, leaving just her and me.

“You want to get a drink or anything?” I asked after a few seconds of quiet.

“I'm okay,” she said. “You want something?”

“No. I'm fine too.”

We stood, awkwardly looking at the people around us, until Sarah suggested we move closer to the hot tub. “I like the colors,” she said.

The Peterses had put it in the far corner, with the most sweeping views of the valley.

“Not quite as good as when we were at the summit today,” I said, looking out over the smattering of lights. “But not bad.”

“We had a good run,” she said, smiling. “Didn't we?”

“We beat Trip,” I said.

“And that's all that matters.” Sarah laughed and held up her palm for another high five.

I clapped her hand gently, and she tilted her head, grinning. “You can give me a real high five, Ri. I won't break.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn't want to be too rough.”

“You're not the rough type,” she said, holding up her hand again. I hit it harder, the smack loud enough that the person behind her looked over.

“Ow!” Sarah frowned, shaking her hand.

“Oh!” I said. “I'm sorry—”

“I'm
kidding
, Riley.” She grinned, rolling her eyes. “You worry too much about other people.”

“I do?”

Sarah nodded, looking out across the dark hills. “It's not a bad thing,” she said. “But sometimes you have to worry about yourself, too.”

“I worry about myself plenty.”

She smiled. “Maybe ‘take care of yourself' would have been a better way to phrase it.”

“Hmmn,” I said noncommittally, not sure what to think of what Sarah thought of me or that she'd been thinking about me at all or whether I was overthinking this. Which I'm sure I was, because I worried about myself plenty. Like I'd told her.

“Do you like it here, Riley?” she asked.

“It's better than standing in the middle of the crowd.”

“Not here, next to the hot tub,” she said. “I meant in Buford.”

My “no” was automatic—on the tip of my tongue—but I stopped to really consider it, and finally told her, “Yes. But I don't want to stay.” I picked at the railing, adding, “Mostly because the people who make me like it will be leaving.”

She was quiet, and I could feel her watching me, the party noise all around us but feeling far away. “Will you leave too?” she asked.

“Someday.”

She nodded. “That's why you're dreaming about dorm rooms, huh?” I knew right away she was talking about the binoculars. Deepest wishes. She continued before I could ask her what she'd seen, “You know what I like about you, Riley?”

I looked at her, my heart beating harder at the way it sounded. Her dark eyes reflected the underwater lights—green then pink then blue.
I should say something funny
, I thought. But it was hard to think with her so close, and the sweet warm smell of her intoxicating. “What?” I asked thickly.

“You're a thinker,” she said. “You're deep but not morose. You're funny, and there's just . . .” She paused, gesturing for the words that were missing. “There's so much there.”

I held her gaze, aware—like she must have been—that we were looking at each other for way too long, but unable to tear away. I think if we'd been anywhere else, I might have tried to kiss her then. But we were on John Peters's deck and she was my oldest friend's girlfriend.

“It's all bullshit,” I said hoarsely.

She smiled wryly. “It sure is.” Her comment seemed to mean more than just the way I acted or what she thought of me.

Natalie came back to us then, smiling and more relaxed than I'd seen her all day. Eventually Trip drifted over too, and I stepped aside, letting him take the spot beside Sarah, where he was supposed to be. We only saw Tannis briefly when she and Matty Gretowniak came over, bizarrely hand in hand. I smelled alcohol on her breath as she said, “Matty's driving me home.”

I'd seen the flask and had known it was circulating, even under Mr. Peters's watchful eye. I wasn't surprised Tannis was drinking, but Matty? I gave him a hard look, and he grinned sheepishly. I had no idea if he was drunk or just feeling foolish or something else entirely.