Page 28 of Given Our History

She hopped down from the stump, landing back on the trail with a crunch. “Have you ever said the word ‘fuck’?” she asked as we kept walking. We were nearly to the top of the hill.

Teddy hunched his shoulders. “Once or twice.”

Izzy and I looked at each other, wide-eyed. “He totally hasn’t,” I stage-whispered.

“I’ve said plenty of … words,” Teddy protested. “I just prefer to save them for when I need them. You know, when I’m actually mad about something.”

“I was mad about the mosquitos,” Darvish said, but it went largely ignored because we crested the hill. A few yards away, the tree line ended in an outcropping of rock, and beyond that, sloping mountains stretched into the distance. The treetops were a mosaic of greens and golds, darker wherever the shadows of clouds passed over them.

Darvish bounded right up to the edge of the rock, so thoughtlessly that Izzy and I both let out sounds of protest. He planted his hiking boots wide, cupped both hands around his mouth, and shouted so loud it echoed across the mountaintops. “FUCK!”

A pair of chickadees skittered out of a mulberry bush, alarmed by the sudden sound. I turned to Izzy, my mouth agape. Her eyebrows were so high, they’d disappeared somewhere inside her bucket cap. For a few seconds, we just looked at each other. Then we burst into a fit of giggles.

“Real mature,” Teddy grumbled, plopping himself cross-legged on the stone.

In a flash, Izzy had joined Darvish at the cliff, throwing her arms wide enough that she almost smacked him in the face. “Son of a bitch!” she yelled at the sky.

“Come on.” I nudged Teddy’s shoe with mine, standing in front of him so that my body cast a long shadow. He squinted up at me, but he wasn’t saying no. “There’s no such thing as bad words,” I pointed out. “Just bad intentions.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” he said, but by the muscle twitching in his cheek, I could tell he was holding back a smile. Wordlessly, I offered him a hand, and he accepted. With our fingers interlaced, I couldn’t tell whether it was my pulse or his that raced as I dragged him to his feet and led him over to the edge. Izzy and Darvish had probably already scared off any wildlife within a ten-mile radius. I let go of Teddy’s hand, held my hands to my mouth, and shouted at the top of my lungs. “Asshole!”

Teddy scrunched his face in the bright sun. “This is so childish.”

“What?” I teased. “Are you too mature for the rest of us, now that you’re a college student?” I poked him in the ribs and he flinched.

“No,” he said, covering his ribs with a protective hand.

“Then say a bad word.”

“What are you, five?” he asked, but he was laughing now.

“Say a bad word, Teddy!”

On his opposite side, Darvish had started a low-but-rising chant of “Say it, say it,” and Izzy joined in. Teddy’s gaze remained locked on me. The chanting got louder. I arched a brow and he shook his head, almost imperceptibly, but he was leaving me with no choice here. I joined the chant.

“All right, fine,” he said, exasperated. He took a deep breath and held it, his jaw working as he seemed to mull over his word of choice. Then he released it all at once, in a half-hearted, “Crap!”

Darvish gawked at him. “Man. That was weak.”

Teddy mumbled something under his breath.

Izzy curled a hand around her ear. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said ‘That’s bullshit,’” he said, a little louder this time.

“You have to shout it!” I said. His gaze flicked over me, at the excited way I was bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet, and he held back a smile. “Please,” I added, because suddenly this felt like some sort of ritual, binding our friend group together, and if he didn’t participate, I was worried that meant he already had one foot out the door.

He shook his head, holding my gaze for just a second longer before he turned to face the overlook.

And this time, he shouted as loud as he could.

We stayed at the overlook for most of the afternoon, shouting until our voices were ragged. We started the hike back down a couple hours before sunset, to give ourselves plenty of time to make it back to camp before it got dark. Darvish insisted that he and Teddy hike ahead, “just in case there are any bears or mountain lions or anything.” I didn’t have the heart to point out that there were no mountain lions this far east, and I was pretty sure neither of them was any match for a bear, but I hung back anyway. Izzy alternated between staring down at her dust-covered boots and throwing odd, covert glances at me, like she was trying to parse something out.

“What?” I asked after a while, feeling antsy beneath her gaze.

“You like him.”

I turned to her like a deer in headlights, startled into inaction.