Ty shakes his head. “I can’t do it, Lily. I can’t stand seeing my brother lying in that bed. He’s only thirteen. He should be playing computer games and hanging out with his friends. I call to check on him every day, but—” Ty drops his chin to his chest. “I’m not running away. It’s just—there was only one way I could help him, and now I can’t even do that.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was just a stupid, desperate idea I had that was a long shot, anyway.” He slips his hand from mine, pulls a hank of grass from the ground, and tosses it, watching it scatter. After a minute, he says, “About the hike. I don’t want to do anything to get you in trouble with your mom. I shouldn’t have asked you to sneak off and meet me the other day, either.”
“I’m glad I went,” I say.
“Me, too.” He looks up and smiles.
Relieved to see the glint return to his eyes, I add, “And don’t think you’re getting out of the hike. I know you’re afraid I’ll show you up, but you promised me a race, and I’m not letting you off the hook.”
“You want a race? Fine.” He reaches up and gently tugs a lock of my hair. “I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Oooh . . . I’m shaking,” I say with a laugh.
Just then, the receptionist pokes her head out of the door of the clinic to call us in. “Ready, Cookie?” I say. But he doesn’t budge.
Ty picks Cookie up again and carries him inside.
Early the next morning, I place two lunches and a few snacks in my backpack, make sure Cookie is comfortable, then look in on Mom in her bedroom. “Hey, I’m leaving. Call my cell if you need me.”
“I’ll be fine. Go have some fun for a change.”
I’m completely bewildered. One day she’s overly watchful, the next she seems completely disinterested in what I do. I don’t know what to expect from her anymore.
“Don’t forget to check on Cookie,” I say.
The vet confirmed my suspicions—Cookie is physically better and pain-free. So whatever is going on with him now probably is depression. Dr. Trujillo said he might be having trouble getting over the trauma of the accident. And he really might be missing Dad, too.
“Don’t worry about Cookie,” Mom says. “I’ll get up in a while and take him outside.” I go over and hug her, and as I step away from the bed, she rolls toward the window, her back to me. “You and Wyatt be safe,” she murmurs.
It’s always colder in the forest, so I tug a gray stocking cap over my hair and head for the door, feeling guilty for lying. But if I tell Mom the truth—that I’m meeting Ty instead of Wyatt—I’m afraid she’ll say I can’t go. And I know she wouldn’t let me hike the peak alone.
A few minutes later at the trailhead, I park next to Ty’s car in a small clearing at the side of the road. The driver’s door opens and Ty climbs out. Every guilty feeling I had flies from my head as he crosses to me, slinging a backpack over his shoulder. Ty’s wearing faded jeans and a blue flannel shirt left unbuttoned over a threadbare white T-shirt that hugs his chest in a way that transforms my legs to string cheese.
I cut the engine and slide off my four-wheeler. “You ready to hit it?” I ask as I lift my pack from the rack behind my seat.
“Lead the way,” he says.
“You brought a jacket, right? And rain gear just in case?”
“Yes, Mother. And I put on sunblock.” He grins.
I make a face at him, slip the straps of my backpack over my shoulders, and take off at a brisk pace, calling, “Do your best to keep up.”
Ty falls quickly into step beside me. “I thought we were racing.”
“Let’s just say the one who makes it down in one piece without whining wins.”
He laughs. “I’ll take that deal.”
We walk on without speaking for a while. My mind wanders and I relax as we draw deeper into the cool, musky shade of the forest, following the upward incline of the trail. Sunlight blinks through gently swaying tree limbs above. Lacy shadows dance across the ground, dodging our feet. Iris hums a catchy tune, and I realize I’m watching for her silhouette. I’m not three years old anymore; I know it’s only