The Easy Part of Impossible - Sarah Tomp Page 0,90

getting pulled under. Leo saved me, but he didn’t even notice. Thank you, by the way.” She took a deep breath.

“You could have drowned,” said Cotton. “You could have died. You could have . . .”

“I’m fine. None of that happened. But yeah, it could have. And right now I need to get out of here. We all do. And our best chance is to find a different exit.”

“Seriously?” Leo sounded confused. Then he added, “It’s up to you, Cotton. Which way do you want to go?”

She’d understand if they wanted the sure thing. Even if they didn’t follow her, she was going on her own.

“Let’s go.” Cotton started to walk the direction she’d hoped he would. It was more of a shuffle than a step, but he was moving forward.

Their progress was slow. Especially with the beat of hurry hurry hurry matching her heartbeat, urging her to move, to get out of the dark. Each step felt too long, the rocks too rough, everything too, too much.

A whoosh of wind swirled around her face, startling her, setting goosebumps along her skin. She wanted to hurry away from it, but Cotton grabbed her arm. “Wait.”

In a steady monotone he said, “It’s a pit cave. We can get out that way.” He pointed up.

They circled around him to see. A slit of light shone down, hitting the walls of the rocky chimney that reached up, way over their heads.

Leo went first, scrambling up the rocky wall. “I see the opening. The tunnel flattens out. We’re almost there.”

Wherever there was, they’d find it soon.

Cotton lifted Flutie, and Ria coached her climb, pointing out the knobs to reach for, the crannies where she could tuck her foot. And then it was Ria’s turn.

She didn’t want to leave him down in the cave alone, but Cotton had to boost her to the spot where she could get her foot on a ledge. She scrambled up, the bulk of her backpack scraping and bumping against the last bit of cave. She paused for a second and was relieved to hear him following.

Finally, they reached fresh air and sunlight. Ria hoisted herself out of the hole, then Cotton came too. Both of them stood in the sunshine, blinking back tears against the light.

Forty-Two

The world was wide and bright. Blinding.

Ria looked down the hole to see what it looked like from this angle. It was as deep a fall as she’d felt climbing out, but the dank, dark of it smelled sour and wrong. Or maybe that was them. Their sweat and extended time in the cave had caught up with them in the fresh air.

“Do you recognize this place?” Leo pulled out his GPS unit.

“Yes. Ria climbed that wall, from the other side.” Cotton’s voice sounded clipped and monotone. He started walking in that direction. “We’re on someone’s property. We need to leave.”

That’s what she wanted to do. Escape. Bolt. Vamoose.

The climb over the wall wasn’t hard, but they moved slowly, getting reacquainted with the sun and the sky and the living growing things. The others were talking and making a plan. They made calls and arrangements, but she wasn’t listening. The buzz in her ears, the hum in her torso, the ants-in-her-pants squirm of gotta go made everything else fade away.

If Cotton was right about the blanket and the stuffed animal, she couldn’t bear it. She didn’t want to know the how or the who or the what. She knew it was weak and cowardly, but her heart couldn’t take knowing something bad mixed in with the cave. Their cave.

Even if he was wrong, and the blanket was only a blanket, that was awful too. Because that horrible idea was in him, close to the surface, ready to bubble up. He carried that with him, always. It wasn’t fair that he knew things that made him see the world that way. She couldn’t look at him now. She didn’t want to see that hurt in his eyes. She wasn’t strong enough.

Losing Esther had changed him. He had scars, thick and twisted. Most of the time he kept them buried but now they were out in the open, raw and tender.

Hers, too.

She’d buried her hurts for years. Ashamed of pushing Benny to the point of exploding, she’d hidden the truth. She’d worn all his disappointments, his frustrations, his anger, and covered them, keeping them tucked away, out of sight. But the tender spots had reshaped her, made her heart beat to a different rhythm. His anger