In the Heart of the Canyon - By Elisabeth Hyde Page 0,25

the right, Sam; that means you gotta back-paddle, watch Peter! Come on, RIGHT turn, people, HARD right!” But the boat was already angling left, with lateral waves dousing both sides, and Peter, with an instinct he didn’t know he had, plunged his paddle down behind his hips, plunged it deep and then pivoted back using all his weight, all 186 pounds, rock hard abs, he was a Viking, Poseidon, Neptune, he was moving oceans. Water soaked his hips, but the boat magically pivoted and slid down into the trough below at a different angle; now they were turning right, narrowly missing a huge submerged rock along the left bank.

“Forward!”

Paddling in sync, they rode the tailwaves out of the rapid to join up with the other boats in the calmer water below.

“Stop!”

Peter froze with his paddle in midair as they bumped up against JT’s boat.

“Everybody in one piece?” JT asked.

Dixie was laughing as she swung her boat around. “I almost got stuck going left! Did you see me almost hit that rock?”

“I had to close my eyes, babe,” said Abo.

I didn’t, thought Peter.

“Mitchell, you might want to tuck that camera away for the next one,” JT said.

“That was cool,” said Sam. “I hope we tip over sometime.”

Abo squirted him with a water pistol. “Lets review a few things, Sam. You’re sitting on the right side of the boat. Now, if I say ‘Right turn,’ do you paddle forward or backward?”

“Back?” said Sam.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” said Matthew.

“Just watch Peter and do whatever he does,” said Abo. “You did great, by the way, Peter. Way to put some mojo into things!”

But Peter wasn’t listening. Ten feet away, Dixie was applying Chap-Stick. She rubbed her lips together, then tucked the ChapStick back into the pocket of her shorts. Peter licked his own lips. They were dry. Would it be out of line to ask to borrow her ChapStick?

You are so lame, he told himself.

Look. ChapStick. Right in your own pocket.

It was the saddest thought he’d had all day.

14

Day Two

Miles 25–30

The rapids continued that afternoon in quick succession, with little time in between for even so much as a sip of water. Above them, great gaping cavities dotted the mammoth Redwall; at one point, they spotted a mother bighorn nudging her kid across the rocky debris fan.

Amy, paddling in the back of Abo’s boat, regretted that her camera was packed away in her day bag. She would have liked to get a picture of the baby sheep. She also would have liked a granola bar or something. Her blood sugar was low, and she was feeling shaky. Which made sense, as she hadn’t eaten lunch. Not because of any sand in the chicken salad, but because of the on-and-off tightening in her stomach. It had begun that morning, shortly after breakfast. Pain? Not really, but it came on quickly, her belly suddenly knotting up, her neck feeling flushed and under pressure, as though she were straining to blow up a balloon. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt this way before or not. She feared what would happen if things got worse, but then the pain mysteriously stopped just as quickly as it started.

Gas, probably, she’d thought. But then it kept happening, two, maybe three more times over the course of the morning. So that by noon, she’d lost her appetite, and now, in the middle of the afternoon, she was paying the price.

Finally they reached a calmer stretch, and she was able to open her day bag and find a roll of Mentos.

As their boats floated serenely between the soaring canyon walls, Abo brought out a book of Indian lore and began to read. Amy listened for a few minutes, but with the sun so hot, she found her thoughts wandering. Here she was, floating down the Colorado River with a bunch of total strangers, people who knew absolutely nothing about her. She could be anyone, in their eyes: class president, debate champion, winner of the science fair. She could have had the lead in the school play this past spring. She could have placed first in the all-state choral competition. Nobody would know.

Except her mother, of course. Amy glanced across the boat, where her mother was listening to Abo with rapt attention. Her mother was really bugging her, even more than she had anticipated. There was simply too much togetherness down here—What boat shall we ride in, and Where shall we set up our tent, and Come sit with me. Was this