I nod.
“You’re going east, right?” Carter’s father taught him to be in control of conversations, to always have the last word. This version of Carter never quite knows how or when to shut up, and this conversation is just another reminder of everything that’s changed between us. Once, we were close enough that he wouldn’t have had to ask this.
“Mm-hmm.” Drexel University. One of the best game development programs in the country, and the one that offered me an almost full-ride scholarship. Plus, it’s about as far as I can possibly get.
I want to be safe, and here isn’t safe anymore.
Carter huffs with the effort of dragging his ludicrous bag. Poor guy. He couldn’t possibly have anticipated we’d have to abandon our cars on the private drive because of a blockage, but he looks ridiculous. “I’m headed in the opposite direction. USC. I can’t wait to get out of here. This town—this state—is getting too small for me. I want something that challenges me.”
“Somewhere you can prove yourself?” My tone is harsher than I intended. This version of Carter—a bragging blowhard—brings out the worst in me. I take my eyes off the path and glance up at him.
He shrugs. “Yeah, I want to prove myself. Something wrong with that? Having ambition isn’t a bad thing, is it? I want something more. Something better than all of this.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
The path winds sharply to the right, and I have to focus on where I place my crutches—and my feet. The pine trees to my right seem to climb farther up the mountainside, as though they’re shying away from the steep drop on my left, and honestly, I can’t blame them. But when I turn the corner, I curse.
The path is blocked by another barricade of boulders that reaches almost as high as we do. A tree has cracked and is leaning on the boulders.
“Frack. This wasn’t here yesterday either,” Ever says. “They must have slid down the slope during last night’s storm. We’ll have to climb over. Do you think you two can manage?” They turn and glance at Maddy and me. “We’ll climb over first, so we can help you on the way down.”
We’re only an hour into the trip and already things are going sideways. I shouldn’t have come.
But I tense my jaw. “I’ll be fine.”
Something like anger or disappointment flashes in Ever’s eyes. Probably both. They hate it when I refuse to accept help.
“Do you need a hand?” Carter offers, already reaching out to me.
I shrink away from it. “No, thanks. It’s better if I find my own way across.” I can’t trust any of them not to let me fall.
“Sure, your call.” Carter falls into step with Maddy and offers her his assistance instead. She nods gratefully. She’d gone pale at the sight of the boulders. After this trek, her knee must not be in great shape either. The road, which leads up to a cabin nestled snugly in a grove on top of Lonely Peak, used to be clear, but bad weather, climate change, and an honest-to-eldritch-gods mudslide have recently put the last few miles out of commission. I’m sure Liva’s family will pay to fix it at some point, but they haven’t yet.
Ever and Liva make their way across first, holding onto the tree for balance. The boulders, all different sizes, don’t seem to be particularly stable, and there’s a small voice in the back of my mind—one that sounds remarkably like my therapist—telling me I should accept the offer for help.
After three years of PT and occupational therapy, five years of hospitals and arthritis specialists, I know exactly where my physical boundaries lie. I’m just incapable of admitting they exist.
And they keep closing in on me.
“Your mind is playing tricks on you,” my friend Damien would tell me. “Asking for help isn’t weakness. And limitations aren’t a weakness either. They just are.”
So what should I do with them, then? I’d ask him.
He’d ruffle my hair. “Accept them. And yourself. I know it’s difficult. I know the rest of the world teaches us differently. But you’re not lesser because you’re different. You don’t have to push yourself into an uncomfortable mold to be considered acceptable.”
But instead of speaking up, I wait for Carter and Maddy to cross too. They make their way gingerly, but as the rocks shift beneath them, small pebbles are sent flying over the edge, down a steep cliff. I focus and listen, but I don’t hear them fall. It’s an endless drop and a harsh silence.
Then it’s just me. I realize what a terrible decision it was to wait until last.
“Finn, are you sure?” Ever says from behind the rocks. “I’m worried about you.”
That settles my resolve, and I take the first step, climbing on one of the smaller boulders. It shifts and moves under my weight, but up is relatively easy. It’s going over that’s the problem.
Without sure footing, all I can do is place my crutches first. One step. Then the next. From this boulder to one higher up, a rock that looks a little more steady. Another step.
I lean hard on my crutches, because it’s the only way I can keep my balance, but that makes it hard to ignore how shaky they feel. How tangles of pain shoot up through my legs every time my feet slip, every time my ankles overextend.
I’m a fool.
On the other side, someone shouts something, but my world has narrowed down to these rocks now. Whatever they say, it’s not louder than the blood pumping in my ears.
I reach the highest point. The fallen tree hangs over the rocks, allowing the narrowest of gaps.
I’m going to have to fold myself through it, like the others did, and somehow catch myself on the other side. I put one crutch through, then lean on the rocks and follow with my head and shoulders, ignoring the pain. I turn sideways, one knee first, so I have a way to brace myself. Then pull the next crutch and try not to launch myself down, continuing to ignore the pain. I find a good place to put the crutches and turn all the way through.
When I tug my foot free from the branches, I nearly lose my balance, but I manage to catch myself and stabilize.
Another step—
And I feel the crutches slip out from underneath me. I don’t know if it’s the rocks that shift or if it’s my own lack of stability, but it’s as though time slows down, and I can feel myself fall, oh so slow.
Then my knee buckles. My ankle twists. With the elbow cuffs around my crutches, I can’t reach out to stop myself, because the impact would destroy my shoulders. I can only close my eyes and let myself—
Collide.
Strong arms come around me, bracing against my downward momentum. Then, other hands join the first person, holding us up and slowing us down to a stand. I hardly realize I’m not falling anymore, because the world is still twisting around me, and I may have messed up my hip again.