"Lloyd used it."

"And what, he thought we were right around the corner from Wal-Mart?" Mitch.e.l.l spat into the sand. "I pay three thousand bucks and you can't provide me with a five-dollar roll of gauze?"

All this time the Mother b.i.t.c.h had been sitting off to the side, flossing. Shoot this guy Shoot this guy, she said. Tie him to a rock. Let him fry Tie him to a rock. Let him fry.

At that point, Lena spoke up in what seemed to everyone to be the first time she'd said much of anything the entire trip.

"Mitch.e.l.l," she said. "Behave yourself. We're a group, and someone else got hurt, and we used up the gauze. We didn't mean to but we did." Her use of the first-person plural reminded everyone that she did indeed teach kindergarten. "Now give me your handkerchief, and take this," and she handed him a paper towel.

"Do I need st.i.tches?" he asked her.

"No," said Lena. "You don't need st.i.tches. There's a lot of blood, but trust me, it's a small cut. Head cuts are like that."

"Lie down, Mitch.e.l.l," said Dixie.

"I'll bet if I walked into the ER right now, they'd give me st.i.tches," Mitch.e.l.l said. "Now I'll have a scar. But hey, what's the big deal? Fifty-nine-year-old guy, why should he care about his face?"

"Come on, Mitch.e.l.l. Lie down," said JT.

"I wouldn't be surprised if this dog has rabies," said Mitch.e.l.l.

"The dog does not have rabies," said JT.

"And you're an expert on rabies how again?"

"Mitch.e.l.l! Lie down and SHUT UP!" said Dixie.

Lena held up her hand. "I think it would help if everyone took a deep breath. Mitch.e.l.l, you don't need st.i.tches. The dog doesn't have rabies. Dixie and JT have everything they need to bandage you up. Now it's time to cooperate."

"Thank you, Lena," said Dixie.

"Please, Mitch.e.l.l. Lie back," said JT wearily. "I want my beer."

Mitch.e.l.l lay back with a grunt. JT cradled the man's head in his lap. His beard was rough, his skin craggy. Mitch.e.l.l closed his eyes, and JT was thankful for that. Lena told Mitch.e.l.l to think of a nice place.

"I'm in a nice place," he grumbled.

"A nicer place," said Lena.

"On three, Mitch.e.l.l," said Dixie.

Mitch.e.l.l grimaced as Dixie poured peroxide directly onto the wound. JT blotted it, then Dixie swabbed it with antibiotic cream and taped three Band-Aids over it.

"Okay, kiddo," she said.

Mitch.e.l.l opened his eyes.

"All in the antic.i.p.ation," Dixie said. "Isn't that right, Sam? Sit up, Mitch.e.l.l. Take a look." She found a small mirror in the first aid kit. Mitch.e.l.l peered at Dixie's bandaging job. He did not look too terribly unhappy, but he was not going to begrudge anyone anything at this point.

"If this gets infected, you are going to regret this decision like no other," he told JT.

JT stood up and cuffed sand off the back of his shorts. "Which decision might that be?"

"The decision to keep the dog," said Mitch.e.l.l. "What are you guys governed by, a state licensing board? I imagine it doesn't screw around with decisions like this. One hundred and twenty-five trips, did you say? Maybe that's a nice round number to call it quits."

Stake him to an anthill, said the Mother b.i.t.c.h. Want me to do it? No qualms here Want me to do it? No qualms here.

"Oh goodness," said JT. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Don't test me," said Mitch.e.l.l.

Afterward, Evelyn made her way down to the boats and hovered about until the guides looked up.

"I'm not second-guessing you," she said, "but peroxide is no longer the disinfectant of choice. You should use Betadine."

"Oh. Okay," said JT. "Thank you, Evelyn."

Evelyn turned and toiled back up the slope.

"She's a good lady," said Abo. "Even if she is a fuddy-duddy."

"She is," said JT.

Dixie leaned back and closed her eyes. "JT?"

"What's that?"

"Have you ever wished for any of your trips to be over?"

"Are you counting the days, Dixie?"

"Nope," said Dixie. "But I'm glad I'm not the Trip Leader right now."

34.

Day Nine Mile 150 It was a tense dinner that night. Mitch.e.l.l went off and ate by himself; Lena, having received a testy rebuke when she tried to follow him, stayed with the group for once and got a stern lecture from both Jill and Susan that she really didn't need to take Mitch.e.l.ls bullying for the next thirty years.

"I wouldn't call him a bully," said Lena.

"Somewhat overbearing?" prompted Evelyn, and Lena didn't correct her, and Evelyn felt good, for being definitive. Their site was narrow and hugged the cliff, and they all sat together in a long line, looking down upon the river, gla.s.sy and dark. Evelyn scooched closer to Jill.

"Mitch.e.l.l has a hard time with groups," said Lena.

"You don't need to make excuses," said Susan.

"And he's wanted to do this stretch of the trip for so long," Lena went on. "The city council wants him to give a slide show at the library, after he's finished Powell's journey. And he knows someone who used to work for National Geographic National Geographic too. He might do a story for them. That's a long shot," she added. too. He might do a story for them. That's a long shot," she added.

Far below, a lone kayaker glided silently down the center of the river. They waved. She waved back.

"Still," said Jill. "A little common courtesy goes a long way."

"I would never argue with that," said Lena. "But you people don't know Mitch.e.l.l the way I do. You've known him for eight days. I've known him for thirty years.

"He can act like a boor," she said, "but he's not a boor at heart."

Peter for his part could deal with the fact that he wasn't going to get any b.l.o.w. .j.o.bs on this trip, but he didn't think he had it in him to tolerate four more days of Mitch.e.l.l.

He dished himself a plate of food and walked over to join Amy and didn't even offer a lead-in sentence. "I'm thinking in the middle of the night," he said, sawing at his steak. "We stuff a sock in his mouth. We tie his hands. We drag him down to the river and give him the old midnight heave-ho."

"Better if we could make it look like he fell," said Amy.

"Because it's me or him," Peter went on. "One of us has got to go."

"I'll bet my mother will help," said Amy. "She's strong."

"I don't care if I even have to go to jail," said Peter. "I am so sick of this guy making himself the center of attention. What, you're not eating?"

"Not hungry," said Amy.

"This isn't the time to try and lose weight."

"Thank you, Dr. Atkins." She reached over and took the piece of meat he'd just cut. "Happy now?"

"Maybe we should put some of this steak in his sleeping bag," said Peter. "Let the dog do the rest of the work."

"Find a scorpion and put it in his hat," Amy suggested.

"Or hot sauce in his coffee."

They watched Mitch.e.l.l take a picture of Dixie bending over one of the kitchen boxes, in an unflattering pose. "I swear, if that guy takes one more picture of me," said Peter.

Amy sat up.

"What?"

"Oh, my, G.o.d," said Amy.

"Tell me!"

"This is so perfect."

"What's so perfect?"

"I have the the best idea." And she proceeded, then, to tell him about the idea that had just popped into her head. Peter thought at first it was too simplistic, that it wouldn't be mean enough and n.o.body would pick up on the nuances; but as she gave him one example after another, he marveled at the girls ingenuity. Ten days ago he'd a.s.sumed she was merely somebody to tolerate. Now he was filled with admiration. best idea." And she proceeded, then, to tell him about the idea that had just popped into her head. Peter thought at first it was too simplistic, that it wouldn't be mean enough and n.o.body would pick up on the nuances; but as she gave him one example after another, he marveled at the girls ingenuity. Ten days ago he'd a.s.sumed she was merely somebody to tolerate. Now he was filled with admiration.

"You can be really mean when you want," he told her.

"I'm in high school," she reminded him.

July 12 Day Nine

So today Mitch.e.l.l cut his head on a rock and was a total a.s.shole and snapped at everyone, including Ruth. Peter and I were having dinner afterward and figuring out ways to kill Mitch.e.l.l, and I had this idea. It just came to me in a flash. OMG. We are SO going to get him back.

Here's the plan:

So Mitch.e.l.l's been taking pictures of everyone and everything the whole trip. Sam with the red ant. Mark and Jill fighting. JT bandaging Ruth's leg. Evelyn in her sports bra, (Okay, she shouldn't be wearing a sports bra, but it's the RIVER and EVEN I CAN WEAR A SPORTS BRA DOWN HERE IF I WANT, JUST DON'T TAKE A PICTURE OF ME IN IT!!!!)

Anyway, Peter and I are going to take pictures of Mitch.e.l.l! They'll be totally innocent pictures, but they'll remind us of what an a.s.shole he's been. A picture of him taking pictures, for starters. I definitely want to get one of him without his shirt on, if I don't puke in the process. Oh, and talking to Lena, so we can all remember how not not to be treated by our husband someday to be treated by our husband someday.

Then we make an alb.u.m and post it online.

Am I not the biggest b.i.t.c.h in the universe?

DAY TEN.

River Miles 150168 Upset to Fern Glen

35.