Page 17 of Trusting the Grumpy Mountain Man
"He just needed to succeed at something." I watch as Kevin lands a solid throw, receiving approving nods from his peers. "Most of these kids have never experienced competence in a skill that matters."
"Is that why you emphasize practical survival rather than academic learning?"
"They get academics too." I nod toward the mess cabin. "Two hours every afternoon with Mason. He's also certified in alternative education."
Her eyebrows rise. "You don't mention that in your program materials."
"Didn't think it mattered to your department. The referrals come through the court, not the school district."
"It matters." She makes a note on her tablet. "It shows a more comprehensive approach than I initially understood."
Something's shifted in her assessment. I can see it in the way she watches the teens, in the questions she asks. She's seeing beyond the surface violations to the core of what we do here.
It's a dangerous development for my peace of mind. I preferred her as an adversary. This version of Riley, the one who asks thoughtful questions and notices nuances, is harder to keep at a professional distance.
"We'll break for lunch in thirty," I tell her, needing space to clear my head. "Mason arrives at one for therapy and academic sessions if you want to observe."
"I'd like that." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture I've noticed she makes when she's processing new information. "And after?"
"Rock climbing. Basic skills only, on the practice wall."
Her eyes widen. "You have a climbing wall?"
I nod, smiling. "Built it myself last summer." I can't help the pride in my voice. "Twenty feet, with varying difficulty routes. Full safety gear and spotters."
"I'd like to see that too." She hesitates, then adds, "I've never tried climbing."
The admission carries a vulnerability that catches me off guard. "Could teach you the basics. If you want."
The offer slips out before I can consider its implications. Teaching Riley to climb means standing close, guiding her movements, possibly touching her. All things I've been carefully avoiding since that charged moment in the cabin.
"I'd like that," she says, her voice softer than usual.
Dangerous territory indeed.
After lunch, Riley observes Mason's academic session, occasionally asking questions but mostly watching how the teens engage with the material. Mason, a former high school teacher who specializes in at-risk youth, handles them with calm authority that complements my more direct approach.
When the session ends, the teens have an hour of free time before climbing. Most use it to improve their shelters or practice skills they've found challenging. It's another data point for Riley, seeing them voluntarily engage rather than being forced to participate.
I find her standing near the practice wall, examining the safety equipment I've laid out.
"Professional grade," I tell her, lifting a harness. "Inspected monthly."
"It's impressive." She runs her fingers along the climbing holds. "You built this yourself?"
"With help from last summer's group." I check the ropes and carabiners, a habit ingrained from years of trusting my life to proper equipment maintenance. "They needed to learn construction skills. I needed a climbing wall. Win-win."
"You're good at finding those opportunities." She watches me work, curiosity evident. "Teaching through practical application rather than abstract concepts."
"Book learning has its place." I secure the final rope. "But these kids need to feel their progress, not just hear about it."
The teens begin gathering for the climbing lesson, excitement buzzing among them. Even after three days, they approach each new activity with increasing confidence, their natural resilience emerging as they accumulate small successes.
I demonstrate basic climbing technique, emphasizing safety and communication between climber and belayer. Riley stands slightly apart, still observing but with noticeably fewer notes than on day one.
After each teen has completed a beginner route, I approach Riley. "Your turn."
"I'm not dressed for climbing," she protests, gesturing to her slightly less formal outfit of jeans and a button-up shirt.
