with glory, into the horizon. There’s something familiar about the view, and I suddenly realize why. I climbed up here once, with Benny. We stood here at this same vista, stoned, staring out at the span of blue. I remember feeling like the world was unfurling itself before us, as deep and unknowable as the lake itself. I remember feeling the urge to fling myself into the void and let it embrace me in its chilly oblivion.
I stop. I am wordless, panting, and there are shooting pains in my calves.
Vanessa turns to look at me. “Everything OK?”
“Just taking it all in. I think I might stop for a minute and”—I reach for Ashley—“meditate.”
She peers at me curiously. “Meditate? Here?”
“This is exactly where one should meditate, don’t you think?” I say a little archly.
She smiles nervously. “I wish I could do that but my mind doesn’t ever shut up for long enough. It’s like, I try to quiet everything and instead my brain just overflows like one of those volcano experiments kids do in elementary school, with the bubbles frothing everywhere. How do you do that? Turn it all off?”
“Practice.”
“Oh? Like how?” She looks at me expectantly, waiting for more.
Good Lord, she’s persistent. I’ve never meditated in my life. “Just—” I go still, close my eyes, and try to look like my mind is empty. I hear her feet shuffling in the pine needles, moving restlessly in circles. Maybe she’ll go away and let me rest here for a bit.
But when I open my eyes, she’s standing there with her phone out, pointing it at me, studying the screen with a practiced eye. She cups her hand to examine the results, then starts to type. And immediately I understand what she’s doing: She’s uploading a photo of me to her Instagram feed. Oh sweet Jesus: That cannot happen.
“No!” I fly at her and snatch the phone from her hand, as fast as a striking snake. Sure enough, there I am, in portrait mode, my eyes closed, the sun soft on my face. I look…peaceful. The unfinished caption reads My new friend Ashley is. Despite myself, I want to know how she was going to finish the sentence: What is Ashley? I delete the photo and shut Instagram down as Vanessa stares at me, her eyes huge and unblinking. “Sorry to be such a stickler but…I’m a very private person. I know social media is your thing, but I’d really rather not have you post photos of me online.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I just assumed…” She quivers; I’ve wounded her. I almost feel bad. “It’s just, it was such a good shot.”
I’m quivering, too—close call—as I gently press the phone back into her hand. “How would you know? It’s really my fault. I should have said something earlier. Don’t worry about it, OK?”
She backs away from me, her eyes frantically looking at anything but my face. I’ve frightened her, or worse. “I should go retrieve Michael,” I say. “He’s probably wandering around lost.”
“I’ll wait here,” she says.
* * *
—
I trudge back down the trail. Lachlan is a quarter mile back, leaning against a tree, just staring at his shoes. He frowns when he sees that I’m alone.
“Where’s Vanessa?”
“Up a ways, waiting.”
He reaches for my water bottle and frowns when he realizes that it’s empty. “Showing off your athletic ability, eh, Ashley?”
“At least I’m making an effort, Michael.”
“What were the two of you nattering on about, anyway? I thought I heard you shouting.”
I don’t see the point in telling him about the photo; it’s been deleted, anyway. “Oh nothing. She wanted me to teach her how to meditate.”
He snorts. “I’m sure you had lots to offer. Look, all this hiking shite—it’s not helping us. I’m going to press her to invite us over for dinner. We’ll get her a little drunk, then ask her for a tour of Stonehaven—the whole house—and we can drop the rest of the cameras. It’ll be easier with both of us there, so one of us