In the Heart of the Canyon - By Elisabeth Hyde Page 0,58

my god, are you blind?”

Peter handed the mug to Amy. Amy set it on the sand and hugged her notebook to her chest, as though trying to prevent him from peeking. He kept forgetting she was only seventeen, and then she’d do something like this, like someone in fifth grade.

“So when are you going to put the moves on Dixie?” Amy said.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s so obvious.”

Peter snorted. “Dixie’s got a boyfriend.”

“So what?”

“Well, maybe I will, and maybe I won’t.”

“Are you scared? What, are you a virgin or something?”

“What do you think? Are you?” As soon as he said it, he kicked himself. Can of worms! Change the subject! Sure enough, Amy tucked her pen between the pages of her journal. She squinted at JT, who was working in his boat.

“Tell me about your first time,” she said. “How old were you?”

“Are you serious? I am definitely not having this discussion,” he said. “There are laws against this.”

“Did you like her?”

“Like I said. Not having this discussion.”

“I’ll ask Mitchell then,” said Amy, and she waved to Mitchell, who hesitated, unsure of the invitation.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Fine,” Peter said in a low voice. “It sucked.”

“Why?”

“She cried.”

“I was too drunk to cry,” she said. “Would you fuck a girl who was drunk?”

“Jesus!”

“Would you?”

“What do you think?”

Amy was silent.

“You going to elaborate?” he demanded.

“No.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to.”

“Good.”

“Then we’re in agreement.”

“We are.”

“Good.” Peter carried his plate over to the wash table, scraped it clean, dunked it through the series of buckets. Then, against his better judgment but motivated by some vague sense of brotherly concern that pissed him off yet couldn’t be ignored, he returned to the spot where Amy was sitting. He kept his voice low.

“You shouldn’t let yourself get drunk like that. Guys can be assholes, you know.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

He was definitely angry now—at himself, at Amy. He didn’t want to be hearing any of this, yet he couldn’t walk away.

“What got you in such a pissy mood back there with Jill?”

For the first time in all of this conversation, she turned and faced him. “Because you shouldn’t go telling people you know what high school is like for me! You have no idea what high school is like for me!”

“And this has something to do with your getting drunk?”

“No clue at all,” she continued.

“Sorry.”

“Absolutely no clue.”

“Okay! Fine!”

Amy lay back on the sand. “I didn’t think I would like you, that first night, in the hotel.”

“Well, I didn’t think I’d like you, either.”

“Because I’m fat?”

“No. Because of your Jamba Juice T-shirt. Jamba Juice sucks.”

“It was because I’m fat. That’s okay. A lot of people do it. I’m used to it. Sometimes I think I should just walk into the river at night while everyone’s sleeping.”

“Oh, how goth.”

Amy sat up and glared at him, and he sensed he’d gone too far. But then, to his surprise, she burst out laughing. Peter felt like he had either just gotten away with something hugely significant or said something brilliant. He didn’t want to know which; he wanted to leave it at that, with a laugh the two of them could share, even if it might be for very different reasons.

In any case, he was most thankful to see Susan walking toward them, carrying two plates of something fruity and crumbly.

“She doesn’t know, by the way,” said Amy under her breath. “Hi, Mom,” she said brightly.

“I thought you’d want dessert,” Susan said, handing them the plates. Peter took his gratefully. The cherry filling was thick and gluey and probably came straight out of a can but tasted so, so fine, down here on the river. And when Susan told them that Ruth might have to be evacuated because of her leg, it barely registered, because between three margaritas and a plateful of cherry cobbler and whatever he’d eaten in between, Peter wasn’t feeling so very great himself.

Late that night, while others slept, Evelyn headed upriver in the dark to find a good place to pee. Most people at night simply waded into the shallow water by the boats, but Evelyn felt too self-conscious with the guides so close by. And she wasn’t going to punish herself over this anymore, either. She was who she was, and so what if she needed her privacy?

She didn’t want to go too far upriver, though, because she didn’t want to intrude upon the hikers’ camping space. What a bunch of women! Stripping down like that! Once she and Julian had gone skinny-dipping in the ocean up in