Page 40 of Wild Child
I ignored Kimball.
"Steve?"
Steve shifted, a mere shadow in the night. "Thanks," he said. "I'm fine."
In the darkness, they were only blurry lumps. The extra cover of night seemed to give Kimball even more courage to speak on behalf of his friend, which I didn't like. The whole evening had been odd and sent me for a bit of a loop. Why was their dynamic so weird? Why did Kimball want to get to a supposed haunted house so badly? My instincts told me there wasn't a house there, but there could be. An old trapper’s cabin, dilapidated and in pieces. I'd stumbled on them in the back mountains before. Besides, mountains were tricky. They didn't give guarantees.
A crack of thunder growled overhead. Lightning streaked through a bulkhead of clouds moving in from the west. It blocked out the stars in the distance. For all its size, it didn't seem to be in a hurry.
I made my decision in the split second when the light illuminated Steve's face, and I saw uncertainty there. One could even call it fear, and I had a feeling he hadn't meant to let me see it.
"My tent is yours," I said. "Devin and I will share one."
A moment of dumbfounded quiet followed.
"What?" Steve asked.
Devin didn't say a word, and I realized that I'd held my breath and wondered if he would. No sound issued from him, so I took it as a good sign. Hopefully, he'd brought more than just a pup tent, or this would be averycozy night.
"The choice is yours," I said in Steve's general direction. "I can't force you to sleep in it, but I won't be in it. I would be annoyed to find out you endured hours of hail and cold rain when an empty tent awaited you, particularly because we may have a challenging day tomorrow."
An edge of reluctance—and relief—colored his reply.
"That’s . . . very kind. Thank you."
Kimball said nothing.
Devin stayed right at my side as I headed toward his tent, which he'd put near mine. Would Kimball balk at being left on his own side of the tree line? We'd pitched our tents at least fifty feet away to give them privacy. Devin had chosen well, in a copse of sturdy quaking aspens that would provide some shield from the inevitable wind. Their leaves would soften some of the hail if it fell.
Once I approached the tent, I flicked on my headlamp and pulled my sleeping bag and pack out. Wordlessly, Devin grabbed my pack and ducked into his own tent with it. My sleeping bag soon followed. I couldn't help but wonder if Steve felt relief at being away from Kimball for the night.
For some reason, I did.
As soon as I emptied the tent, I paused to think through my next move. Devin seemed to read my mind as he flipped his headlamp on.
"Go ahead and grab your toothbrush and stuff," he said. The beam of my headlamp angled away from his face, illuminating his hands as he gestured to the tents. "I'll check the tie-downs and the rain covers. Then I'll stand guard while you change at the creek."
I hesitated, shocked that he'd remembered. Then I felt silly. Of course Devin remembered. I liked to clean up in the stream before I climbed in my sleeping bag. He'd only teased me endlessly about it our entire teenhood together.Can't be dirty when you sleep, Ellie? You'll still smell like a hibernating bear afterward.
My lips twitched with the memory.
"Thanks," I said.
Darkness hid his expression, and his voice was perfectly neutral, leaving me to wonder if he was annoyed at me volunteering to share his tent without permission. Our earlier conversation left me skeptical that he'd care, but we would be cramped together all night.
The rolling thunder continued noisily in the distance while I grabbed my pajamas and a small toiletry bag. Devin rustled with the tents, setting mine farther away so Steve wouldn't sleep so close. The rain protectors were latched firmly on the top when he flipped his headlamp down, grabbed a bundle of things near his tent opening, and gestured for me to take the lead.
Behind him, Steve climbed inside my tent and zipped it shut without even taking off his boots.
My mind spun on Steve and Kimball while I headed to the stream. Near the gurgling water, Devin's beam flashed around to see the trees across the way.
"I'll keep watch while I brush my teeth and wash my face." His light went out. "But don't take your time. That beast is headed this way."
Behind him, light flashed across the sky, filling the thunderous bulk with electric bolts of light that turned the edge of the sky a vivid purple. At this high altitude, that kind of storm was a definite lightning hazard. On previous hikes from our high school years, we'd felt a charge in the air so strong the hair on our arms stood up. I shuddered with the memory and turned to my task.
My toes sang with freedom when I ripped my long wool socks off and dunked my feet in the water. Devin didn't make a sound, but I could see his dark silhouette against the few stars that remained.
While I wet a bar of soap and rubbed it into a small washcloth, my mind wandered to this Devin. Devin the soldier. Devin thedeployedsoldier. He acted so even-keeled. Once emotional, energetic, and extroverted, I now sensed a far more nuanced and sharp undertone in him. He hadn't lost that Devin magic . . . but he did seemtired.
