In the Heart of the Canyon - By Elisabeth Hyde Page 0,67

seriously for me. We need to put Mitchell in his place. A few practical jokes wouldn’t hurt. Maybe I should get out my bugs.”

Here, finally was the chance Peter had been waiting for since stepping off the bus back up at Lee’s Ferry.

“What bugs?” he asked pleasantly immediately regretting it, for it sounded sexual, though he couldn’t say why.

“Show Peter your bugs, Dixie,” said Abo.

And that sounded even more sexual! Wait! Did Abo intend a double meaning? Had Dixie said something to him in private about what a skilled paddler Peter was or how brave he’d been while swimming Hance? He swung his legs around and climbed across the gear. Dixie, meanwhile, had brought out a baggie of plastic bugs—not the neon-colored ones you’d get in a gumball machine but lifelike versions, the kind you might find at a museum gift shop. She picked out a scorpion and tossed it to Abo, who jumped and screamed in a falsetto.

“Bed or day bag?” said Dixie. “Coffee mug maybe?”

Peter felt so privileged to be a part of this plot that he had to restrain himself, for he had a lot of practical jokes up his sleeve, his sister could attest to that, and if the guides wanted to put Mitchell in his place, Peter would be only too glad to help.

But JT was shaking his head. “Forget the jokes, people,” he said, slapping his menu book shut. “I don’t need Mitchell having a heart attack. He’s a pain, but we’re not going to play around with him. That’s all I need, is more shit on this trip.”

“Boo,” said Abo. “Hiss.”

They all fell silent. Peter picked through the bugs and found a centipede and laid it on his thigh and admired it.

“Speaking of which,” Abo said after a moment, “how’s Ruth’s leg?”

“Terrible.”

“Even with the Cipro?”

“Doesn’t work that quick.”

“Think we’ll evacuate?” asked Dixie.

“God, I just don’t know! I sure wish she’d started that Cipro earlier,” JT said.

“Why didn’t she?” asked Abo.

“Saving it for something important, probably,” sighed JT. “Isn’t that always the case?” He got up and balanced his way across to his own boat, where he opened up the cooler and began gathering the ingredients for the night’s dinner.

This had the effect of breaking up the group, for Abo and Dixie were on dinner duty, and Amy trudged off to her campsite. Peter stayed there, alone on Dixie’s boat. She’d left her ammo box open, and there was a creased picture of Dixie and her boyfriend, taped to the inside of the lid. The boyfriend barely had any hair at all. Peter wished he hadn’t seen the picture because he didn’t want to imagine Dixie with a guy who had no hair.

He tucked the centipede in his pocket and smoothed his hand over the rubbery surface of her sleeping pad. He thought of her lying on this pad at night, with her blue sarong loosely covering her hips. He pictured that twisted silver amulet, the ancient horse, warm in the hollow of her throat—which opened the floodgates, and Peter finally allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to make love on a raft in the middle of a smooth stretch of dark water, floating to Baja.

“Not at all, honey,” Jill assured Sam. “Dad just wants to sleep by the rocks, and I’d rather sleep by the water tonight.”

“Well, he looks mad,” said Sam.

“Silly goose,” said Jill, rubbing his back.

July 10 Day Seven

I’m the only one up, and I’m sitting on a rock where no one can see me. Very peaceful. Everyone else is asleep, even Mom. I think I’m having a better time than she is at this point. I will make a point to be nicer to her. She’s so pathetic.

Today we almost tipped over in Crystal, thanks to FAT GIRL. Do the guides actually think we’re going to remember what to do when there’s an emergency? We hit something, the boat goes up, and JT’s yelling at me to highside. WTF!? How am I supposed to remember what that means? Of course, even when he told me what to do, I still couldn’t do it. So he does it himself and yanks me up so I’m lying on top of him.

I probably broke his ribs, and he’s too nice to say anything.

DAYS EIGHT AND NINE

River Miles 108–150

Lower Bass to Upset

32

Days Eight and Nine

Miles 108–150

A side from Jill and Mark barely speaking to one another, the next two days were glorious. For one thing, by now they’d all pretty much