Instead of being embarrassed, I felt cheated that I couldn't remember the dream. Most of the time I dreamed that Calvin and I had never broken up. That he still lived three blocks away, that I could call him or stop by his house whenever I wanted. I dreamed we still went to school together, and that he stored his books and sunglasses in my locker. I never dreamed about the dark side of our relationship, the times when Calvin turned moody after fighting with his dad and refused to talk to me, punishing his father vicariously through me. During those times, he seemed to really believe it was him against the world. I tried to let go of those memories, especially now, when I needed something hopeful to cling to.
"He broke up with me."
"Dumb guy,” Jude said, dipping his head to catch my eye. He smiled. I could tell he was only trying to make me feel better.
"He's not dumb-he's very smart. And an excellent hiker. He knows these mountains really well,” I added, letting the threat dangle. If we don't go to Idlewilde, he will find me.
"Does he come up here often?"
"He used to. Before he left for college.”
”He's a freshman?"
"At Stanford."
Jude paused, absorbing this quietly. After a moment, he let out a whistle. "You're right. He is smart."
"Smart enough to track us to the ranger patrol cabin,” I shot back. "Smart enough not to be fooled by Shaun."
"Who he killed. For lying and kidnapping. He must have a temper.”
”Calvin doesn't have a temper. It's more that he-" How to put it?
”He has a keen sense of justice."
"Which takes the form of shooting unarmed men?"
"Shaun shot the game warden, who was unarmed, so this is really a case of the pot calling the kettle black."
"Do you by chance remember Calvin's SAT score?" I snorted. "Why do you care?"
"Just curious if he beat me-if he's smarter than me."
"He got a twenty-one hundred,” I announced proudly. Beat that. Jude clapped his hands, clearly impressed. "Well, that'll certainly get you into Stanford."
"Calvin got horrible grades to get back at his dad, who placed a lot of emphasis on report cards and student rank, then aced both the ACT and SAT. That is so Calvin,” I added. "He has to do things his own way. Especially when it comes to his dad-they don't have a great relationship."
"Did you visit Calvin at Stanford? Did you ever hit that restaurant downtown, Kirk's, with the green walls? They serve the best steak fries."
"No, we broke up a few weeks after Calvin left for school. How do you know anything about Palo Alto? Have you ever been there?"
"I grew up in the Bay Area.”
”You're awfully far from home."
He made a dismissive gesture. "I was tired of the perfect weather. Everyone needs a blizzard now and then, a life-and-death adventure, you know?"
"Hilarious."I dug around in my pack, hoping against hope that when Jude had grabbed clothes from my duffel in the Jeep, he'd inadvertently included-Yes. It was here. The Stanford baseball cap Calvin had picked up when he and his dad toured Stanford last year, back when Calvin was still deciding between Stanford and Cornell. A few days before Calvin left for Stanford for good, I'd asked if I could keep the hat while he was away. I wanted something special of his, and I had no intention of giving it back. It wasn't even a fair exchange; in the end, I'd given him my heart, the whole of it. "Calvin gave me this hat right before he took off for school. It's as close to Stanford as I've been."
"Calvin gave you this?"
I held it out to him, but Jude didn't take it right away. He sat stiffly, as if he wanted nothing to do with Calvin's and my past. At last he reached hesitantly to take the hat from my outstretched hand. He turned it over and over, examining it without a word.
"Looks like you wore it painting,” he commented, brushing his thumb over a yellow splatter on the top.
"Probably mustard from a baseball game." I scraped my thumbnail over the stain, flaking it off. "Calvin loves baseball. His dad never let him play-it overlapped with tennis and track seasons-but he went to the games. His best friend, Dex, was our high school's pitcher. When Calvin was a kid, he'd tell everyone he was going to play in the majors. One time, he took me to see the Bees play in Salt Lake."Unexpectedly, my voice cracked as I relived the memory. Every time the Bees had scored, Calvin had leaned over and kissed me. We'd sat in our seats, hidden by a sea of fans who shot to their feet cheering, and shared an intimate moment.
I buried my face in my hands. More than ever, I longed for Calvin. If he were here, he'd get me off the mountain. I wouldn't have to struggle to read the map anymore, because he'd lead the way. I rubbed my eyes to keep from crying, but that's what I really wanted. To let go and have a good cry.
"You miss him."
Yes, I did. Especially right now.
Jude asked, "Have you seen Calvin since he left for school? Before two mornings ago at the gas station, I mean. Did you ever get a chance to talk to him and feel closure?"
"No. Calvin never came home. Up until two days ago, I hadn't seen him in eight months."
"Not even for Christmas?" Jude asked, with an upward sweep of his eyebrows.
"No. I don't want to talk about Calvin anymore, and I don't want to talk about me." I didn't want to talk about Jude, either, but that seemed safer than playing the dangerous game of wishing Calvin were here.
Jude passed me his canteen again, but I wasn't thirsty for stale water. I wanted a Coke and cornflakes and mashed potatoes with gravy and toast with real butter, not margarine. It suddenly hit me that I hadn't eaten since last night. My stomach twisted painfully, and I wondered how Jude and I were going to survive the long hike to Idlewilde with nothing but water.
Jude, always observant, guessed my thoughts. "We have three canteens of water and two granola bars, but I think we should save the food until we really need it."
"What happened to the fourth canteen? I heard Shaun say we left the cabin with four."
"I left one behind for Korbie."He pressed his finger to his lips.
"Don't tell Shaun; it's our little secret."
I stared at him. His morbid humor was lost on me, but his act of generosity made my throat grow tight with emotion. I wanted to squeeze his hand and weep at the same time. "You did that?" I finally managed to say.
"I left her a canteen and two granola bars. It's enough food for her to outlast the storm. In another day or two, she'll be able to make her way to the road. She's going to be fine. I know you're worried about her, Britt, but given the two options-staying in the warmth of the cabin, lonely as that must be for her, or coming with us and risking exposure, exhaustion, and starvation-she got the better deal. When you lied about her having diabetes, you probably saved her life. I know I said I only covered for you to help myself, but I was frustrated when I said it, and in the heat of the moment, I lost my temper. The truth is, I saw what you were doing, and I was impressed by your ingenuity and your bravery. I should have told you then. I didn't, so I'm telling you now. You should be proud of what you did."