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“You’re not the one I want to beat up,” he’d muttered with clenched fists. He’d never actually gotten into any physical altercations with the kids who’d considered it their duty to endlessly needle him about his place on the socio-economic totem pole, but I’d known it was just a matter of time, since the kids’ taunts had become bolder and bolder.
“Hey, Norwood,” I’d called to the instigator in a voice that had reached all corners of the lunchroom. “Mrs. Franklin wanted me to tell you she finally got her period, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”
There’d been a beat of complete silence before the entire cafeteria had erupted in laughter and Simon Norwood’s face had turned the color of the school’s cardinal mascot.
Once Xander and I had slipped safely outside to a picnic table, Xander had looked at me with wide eyes and a huge grin. Bingo. The reason I’d done almost everything in those days. That fucking smile.
“Mrs. Franklin?” he’d giggled. “She’s like a thousand years old. Why’d you pick her of all the teachers?”
I’d shrugged. “I figured she was the least likely to hear about it since she always forgets to put in her hearing aids,” I’d said, finally allowing myself to laugh too.
I hid the smile the memory evoked as I approached the campfire and sat down next to Lucky and snuck one last glance at my old friend on the other side of the flickering orange flames. His jaw had loosened, but his face remained unsmiling.
Goddammit. Why did that cut me so deeply?
I began to wonder if there would ever be a time I could once again put that smile back on his face.
Chapter 11
Xander
The following day was a long hike, but it was one of my favorites. We spent the morning traveling past Elk Lake and across Fractured Pass. The plan was to continue down from Fractured Pass to Woodland Basin and camp at Basin Lake. Once settled there, we’d have time to teach the boys how to fish before dinner.
When we stopped for the kids to take photos at the top of the pass, they took advantage of some late-thawing snow and threw snowballs at each other. Once the excitement of the pure white snow died down, I explained what a hydrological divide was and how the Continental Divide ran through the Rocky Mountains.
“If you poured a bucket of water over the top of the Continental Divide,” I explained, “the water running down one side would eventually drain into the Atlantic Ocean and the water on the other side would end up in the Pacific.”
“No shit?” one kid asked.
“No kidding,” I said. “And in the Canadian Rockies, there’s the world’s only confirmed triple hydrological divide. Can anyone guess what the third body of water involved in that triple divide is? Remember, we’re talking about water draining in Canada.”
The most popular guess was the Bering Sea and I realized several of our guessers were fans of a certain crabbing program on television.
“Nope. The third ocean reached by the triple divide on Snow Dome mountain in Canada is the Arctic Ocean,” I said.
I saw Lucky staring north across the tops of several snow-covered peaks in the distance. “Wow, that’s so cool,” he murmured to himself.
“It is very cool,” I said, walking up and standing next to him. “How’d you know which way to look for the Canadian Rockies?” I asked.
“Simple geography. They’re north of us in Alberta, and that way’s north… right?” he asked, turning to look at me with a raised brow.
I smiled. “Yep. That way’s north. Good job. Seems like someone I know was paying attention to the map skills I taught on the first day,” I suggested with a wink. I loved how Lucky straightened a little more at the compliment.
“Well, if you don’t know which way’s which out here, you’re kinda screwed, right?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You are, indeed. Now, which direction is tonight’s camp at Basin Lake? Can you find it from here?”
He turned around in a slow three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle before narrowing his eyes on a nearby landmark that stood out. “Do you have the map?” he asked.
I handed him the folded paper map without speaking and watched as he oriented it with the marks of the compass.
“Basin Lake is that way,” he said, reaching out an arm to point in the correct direction. “Right?”
“Right you are,” I said with a pat on his shoulder. “Lead on, navigator. You’re in charge of getting us there.”
“No way,” he said, shoving the map back at me. I didn’t take it.
“No take-backs,” I said, indicating the folded paper. “That damned thing is too heavy for me anyway. I’m already carrying all the climbing equipment, and I’m an old man.”
He rolled his eyes at me, but I could see a hint of pride in his step as he walked to the front of the group.
