They went twenty, thirty steps in silence.

"I wonder what's for dinner," Peter said. "Do you know what's for dinner?"

Amy shuddered. "I have like no no appet.i.te." appet.i.te."

"You're really a world-cla.s.s whiner, you know? Have you always been this much of a whiner?"

"It's the heat," said Amy. "I'd rather just drink beer. How many beers do you have left?"

"Five."

"Five each or five total?"

"Each."

"Good."

"I hope you're planning on reimbursing me, when we get back to civilization."

"My mother will," said Amy. "She's so happy I'm drinking beer with you, she'll pay you double."

"She didn't look too happy the last time I checked."

"When was that?"

"When Sam jumped."

"Oh, you mean how she looked like this?" Amy turned around and pursed her lips fiercely. "Probably she thought Sam shouldn't jump. My mother can be very critical of other mothers' decisions."

Peter was so hungry he was beginning to feel a little light-headed. He peered among the giant grape leaves for real live grapes.

"My mother would have loved for me to jump," he said. The leaves were as big as dinner plates, and neon green. There were no grapes, though. "She probably would have pushed me."

"Shut up."

"She would. My mothers mean."

"She's lonely, from what you tell me."

"And that's my fault?"

"Just water her flowers," sighed Amy. "Sit with her. Drink a gla.s.s of lemonade. That's probably all she wants."

"Like you're going to be so nice to your mother when she's old. I'm going to come and chew your a.s.s off then," said Peter, "and remind you of how judgmental you were of me, once upon a time."

"You won't even remember me two weeks after this trip."

"I'll remember you. You think I'm Lloyd?"

"Lloyd's so sweet," said Amy. "We should save our money and do this trip next year, with Ruth and Lloyd. Without my mother, of course."

"Or Mitch.e.l.l."

"Especially not Mitch.e.l.l."

They climbed out onto a ledge that overlooked the mouth of Havasu. Down in the fjordlike inlet, plump rubber rafts jostled against one another. Just outside the mouth, the candy-colored waters of Havasu melted into the brackish Colorado.

"Speak of the devil," said Amy-for down in JT's boat, there was Mitch.e.l.l, fumbling with his shorts. Amy took out her camera and snapped a picture just as Mitch.e.l.l arced back slightly.

"Mitch.e.l.l's not going to want to go anywhere, not after he sees our pictures posted all over the net," Peter said.

"Can he sue?"

"For what?"

"Invasion of privacy?"

"You he could sue," said Peter. "Not me." he could sue," said Peter. "Not me."

JT couldn't help but notice the new alliances that night. Mitch.e.l.l and Lena were eating dinner with Susan and Evelyn. Mark and Jill sat comfortably braced, back to back; and it didn't escape JT's notice that for much of the time their hands were interlaced. He was amused, later, when they snuck off during Poetry Hour. He just hoped they knew to watch out for snakes, because there was a big mean one that lived around here, fat from mice.

He made sure they were back before everyone broke up to go to bed.

Two more nights, he told himself as he prepared for sleep. He lay back on his mat, letting the wisp of a breeze cool the bare skin of his belly and the undersides of his arms. He dropped his hand down to the dog below and fingered the rubbery flesh of his ear.

"I suppose you're too spoiled to sleep in one of those crates," he murmured. "Probably have to sleep in a man's bed, don't you? Whether he's got a girlfriend or not. Yeah," he said, "well, we'll see about that."

July 13, Day Ten

I would love, I would just love if they all could have seen me at Havasu today. If they could tear themselves away from Victoria's Secret and look up from Facebook and the three hundred photos from last nights party, and see me with everyone else wading out into the pool, and JT telling us we had to just trust him and hold our breath and dive down, and not open our eyes, but feel along the sharp edges of this rock and keep your hand on your head because if you're a little off you can hit your head as you come up. And there we are, surfacing in this underwater cave, like being in an agate, water trickling, no other sound until JT tells us it's time to leave, and we have to dive down again and feel our way along that rock, and now when we come up the air is warm and yellow-

What I would give not to have to spend another 180 days of school with those people-

take me away take me far, far away

DAY ELEVEN.

River Miles 168179 Fern Glen to Below Lava

37.

Day Eleven Miles 168179 On the morning they'd be running Lava, JT brewed the coffee twice as strong. While the grounds were settling, he got out his sewing kit and mended one of the straps on his life jacket. He clipped his fingernails and washed his face well. Finally, he dug through his dry bag and got out his Lucky Lava shorts, which thus far had taken him safely down Lava Falls 124 times.

When the coffee was ready, he brought three steaming mugs down to the boats. Dixie wrapped her sheet around her shoulders and blew on the coffee. Abo sat like a bullfrog, blinking.

"Rise and shine," JT said. "Its Judgment Day."

He didn't have to tell them, for they'd dreamt of it as they tossed and turned in their boats that night. Lava Falls, Mile 179, rated ten on a scale of ten. Lava, with a sharp drop-off at the top followed by the Ledge Hole, which could suck you straight down into the center of the earth.

Dixie took a sip of coffee and winced.

"And take these." JT handed them some vitamins.

"It's just Lava" Lava" complained Abo. "What's the big complained Abo. "What's the big deal deal, everybody?"

JT knew he was kidding, but there was an element of truth in what he said. Lava was unquestionably the Big One, but it got more than its fair share of horror stories. Which naturally Mitch.e.l.l had pa.s.sed on the night before-near drownings and broken limbs and wooden dories getting ripped to splinters. Swim Lava, Mitch.e.l.l promised, and your hair will turn white.

"Mitch.e.l.l's got Susan scared to death," Dixie said now. "She asked me if she and Amy could walk around it."

"n.o.body's going to walk around it," said JT. "We're going to have good clean runs. We'll take it from the right, hit the V-wave, get drenched, bail like h.e.l.l, and be through in twenty seconds."

"Mitch.e.l.l's just trying to scare people off so he can get a spot in the paddle boat," said Dixie.

"I call Not-Mitch.e.l.l," Abo said promptly.

"Not-Mitch.e.l.l," Dixie echoed.

They both looked at JT.

"That leaves you, Boss," said Abo.

"I'll take Mitch.e.l.l," he said with a shrug. "Abo, you want to let Sam paddle?"

"Why, SURE I do!" Abo declared.

Dixie closed her eyes. "Abo? You're here," she said, leveling her hand up high, "and you want to be here." She dropped her hand.

"And Evelyn," said JT. "I think it's really important to her."

"Evelyn can paddle," said Abo. "As long as I have Peter up front. This quiet enough for you, darlin'?" he asked Dixie.

"Now cover up your b.u.t.t."

Abo glanced over his shoulder, then pulled the bedding farther up around his hips. "Who's taking Ruth and Lloyd?"

"I am," said JT. There was no argument here. The fact that he had more experience than either Dixie or Abo didn't guarantee anything. It did, however, make him feel prudent.

"How's Ruth's leg doing, anyway?" Dixie asked.

Fair is how JT would have characterized it. Holding. No more Cipro had turned up, so Ruth had only taken half the course, which meant they'd probably contributed to the global problem of antibiotic-resistant bacteria.

However, he wasn't going to ship her off the river, not on Day Eleven. Two more days, and the Flagstaff ER could take over.

"I've seen worse," JT told them. "But this is definitely Ruth and Lloyd's last trip."

"That's so sad," said Dixie, blowing on her coffee.

At breakfast JT had to tell Mitch.e.l.l to shut up with his stories. Despite the apprehension, everyone ate heartily. Yesterday's rift over Mark and Jill's parenting judgment had healed for the moment in the presence of excitement over Lava. They all applied sunblock liberally today, as though it would protect them from the rapids themselves.

"I am so sick of groovers," said Peter, relaying the roll of toilet paper to Jill.

"Anyone seen my water bottle?"

Mitch.e.l.l called out. "Mitch.e.l.l," said Peter, holding his camera. "Smile."

Mitch.e.l.l smiled broadly.

There are no real rapids to speak of in that stretch of river above Lava Falls, and without them, the guides and the paddlers had to work extra hard to keep up their speed. They pa.s.sed a landslide, with boulders perched precariously atop towers of rubble. Then they entered a vast volcanic field, with glistening black basalt dikes and lumpy beds of lava. Soon they rounded a bend, and a huge black rock rose up from the middle of the river-Vulcan's Anvil, a malevolent ship in placid water.

And with its appearance, the guides p.r.i.c.ked up their ears for the sound of Lava Falls.

JT looked over at Dixie, and they grinned at each other. It was there. It was always there: loud, wide, and hungry.

Twenty minutes later they pulled into sh.o.r.e on the right, along with the cl.u.s.ter of kayakers and several other rafts.

"Everybody out," said JT. "Time to scout."

"Is this Lava?" Sam asked.

"This is Lava," JT replied. "Lets see if its got any surprises for us today. Wet your shirts; it'll be hot up there on the lava bed."

"Got your camera ready?" Peter asked Amy as she dunked her baseball cap. "Got enough memory? Want to take mine, as backup?"

Amy positioned her hat, letting water drip down her neck. "I'm going to use my waterproof camera."

"Excellent idea," said Peter.

Ruth and Lloyd traipsed up the path behind JT. "Ruthie," said Lloyd, "this is such a beautiful place. I'm thinking we should come back here sometime."