Part 22 (1/2)

”Stop complaining/' said Charles.

”How's everyone doing?” shouted Hannah at the front, walking backward up the hill. ”Marvelous, marvelous. This is f.u.c.king Candy Land.” ”Only a half hour to the first lookout point!” ”I'm going to throw myself off,” said Jade. We trudged on. In the woods, with its endless procession of malnourished pines and lop-eared rhododendrons and wan gray rocks, time seemed to speed up and slow down without provocation. I fell into a strange lull as I lumbered along in the very back, staring for minutes at a time at Jade's red knee-socks (hiked up over her jeans; some precaution against rattlesnakes), the thick brown roots caterpillaring through the trail, the splotches of fading gold light staining the ground. The seven of us seemed to be the only things alive for miles (apart from a few invisible birds and a gray squirrel skittering up a tree's torso) and one couldn't help but wonder if Hannah was right, if this experience she'd forced us into was, in fact, a gateway to something else, some brave new understanding of the world. Pines frothed, imitating the ocean. A bird fluttered up, up, swiftly, like an air bubble, to the sky.

Oddly enough, the only person who appeared not to have fallen under this plodding spell was Hannah. Whenever the path stiffened into a straight line, I could see she'd hung back to walk with Leulah and talked animatedly-a little too too animatedly-nodding and looking over at Lu's face as if to memorize her expressions. And every now and then, she laughed, an abrupt and harsh sound, puncturing the bland peace of everything. animatedly-nodding and looking over at Lu's face as if to memorize her expressions. And every now and then, she laughed, an abrupt and harsh sound, puncturing the bland peace of everything.

”Wonder what they're gossiping about,” said Jade.

I shrugged.

We reached the first vista, Abram's Peak, around 6:15 P.M. It was a large rock promontory off to the right of the trail that opened up, like a stage, to reveal a grand expanse of mountains.

”That's Tennessee,” Hannah said, shading her eyes.

We stood next to her in a line, staring at Tennessee. The only immediate sound was Nigel unwrapping the blueberry Pop-Tart he'd removed from his backpack. (As fish are impervious to drowning, Nigel was impervious to all Quietly Profound Moments.) The cold air tightened my throat, my lungs. The mountains hugged each other sternly, similar to the way men hugged other men, not letting their chests touch. Thin clouds hung around their necks, and the mountains farthest away, the ones pa.s.sed out against the horizon, were so pale, you couldn't see where their backs ended and the sky began.

The view made me sad, but I suppose everyone, when happening upon a sprawling expanse of earth, all light and mist, all breathlessness and infinity, felt sad -”the enduring gloom of man,” Dad called it. You couldn't help but think, not only about shortages of food, safe water, shockingly low averages of adult literacy and life expectancy in various developing nations, but also that shopworn thought about how many people were, at this precise moment, being born, and how many were dying, and that you, like some 6.2 billion others, were simply between these two ho-hum milestones, milestones that felt earth shattering while they were happening, but in the context of Hichraker's 2003 edition of the World Geographical Factbook, World Geographical Factbook, or M. C. Howard's or M. C. Howard's Finding the Cosmos in a Grain of Sand: The Nativity of the Universe Finding the Cosmos in a Grain of Sand: The Nativity of the Universe (2004) they were ordinary, run-of-the-mill. It made one feel as if one's life was no more imperative than a pine needle. (2004) they were ordinary, run-of-the-mill. It made one feel as if one's life was no more imperative than a pine needle.

”f.u.c.k you!” Hannah screamed. Hannah screamed.

The sound didn't echo, as it would in a Looney Tune, but was swallowed immediately, like a thimble hurled at the sea. Charles turned and stared at her. The look on his face clearly indicated he thought she was crazy. The rest of us s.h.i.+fted like nervous cattle in a boxcar.

”F-f.u.c.k you!” she shouted again, her voice hoa.r.s.e. she shouted again, her voice hoa.r.s.e.

She turned to us. ”You should all say something.” She took another deep breath, tipped her head back and closed her eyes in the manner of someone preparing to sunbathe on a deck chair. Her eyelids trembled, her lips too.

”Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments!” she screamed. she screamed.

”You okay?” Milton asked her, laughing.

”There's nothing funny about this,” Hannah said with a serious face. ”Put some muscle into it. Pretend you're a ba.s.soon. And then say something. Something that comes from your soul.” She took a deep breath. ”Henry David Th.o.r.eau!” ”Henry David Th.o.r.eau!”

”Don't be afraid to be afraid!” Leulah gasped rather abruptly, sticking out her chin like a child in a spitting contest. Leulah gasped rather abruptly, sticking out her chin like a child in a spitting contest.

”Nice,” said Hannah. Jade huffed. ”Oh, G.o.d. I guess we're going to be born again from this ex perience?” ”I can't hear you,” Hannah said. ”This is f.u.c.king ridiculous!” ridiculous!” Jade shouted. ”Better.” ”Dang,” said Milton. ”Wimpy.” Jade shouted. ”Better.” ”Dang,” said Milton. ”Wimpy.”

”Dang!”

”Jenna Jameson?” shouted Charles. ”Is it a question or an answer?” said Hannah.

”Janet Jacme!” ”Get me the f.u.c.k out of here!” screamed Jade. screamed Jade. ”Set limits and goals with equal precision!” ”I want to f.u.c.king go home!” ”Say h.e.l.lo to my leetle friend!” ”Set limits and goals with equal precision!” ”I want to f.u.c.king go home!” ”Say h.e.l.lo to my leetle friend!” yelled Nigel, his face red. yelled Nigel, his face red. ”Sir William Shakespeare!” ”Sir William Shakespeare!” shouted Milton. ”He wasn't a sir,” said Charles. ”Yes, he was.” ”He wasn't knighted.” ”Let it go,” said Hannah. shouted Milton. ”He wasn't a sir,” said Charles. ”Yes, he was.” ”He wasn't knighted.” ”Let it go,” said Hannah.

”Jenna Jameson!”

”Blue?” Hannah asked.

I didn't know why I hadn't shouted anything. I felt like a person who couldn't unstick their stutter. I believe I was trying to think of someone with a decent last name, someone who deserved this privilege of being sent into the wind. Chekhov, I'd been about to say him, but he seemed too stilted, even if I added the first name. Dostoevsky was too long. Plato seemed irritating, as if I were trying to one-up everyone by choosing the Very Root of Western Civilization and Thought. Nabokov, Dad would have approved, but no one, Dad included, seemed certain of the p.r.o.nunciation. (”NA-bo-kov” was incorrect, the p.r.o.nunciation of amateurs who bought Lolita Lolita under the impression it was a bodice ripper; yet ”Na-BO-kov” fired like a defunct pistol.) It was even worse with Goethe. Moliere was an interesting choice (no one had yet mentioned a Frenchman) but there was a problem shouting the guttural R. Racine was too obscure, Hemingway too macho, Fitzgerald fine, but in the end it was unforgivable what he did to Zelda. Homer was a good choice, though Dad said under the impression it was a bodice ripper; yet ”Na-BO-kov” fired like a defunct pistol.) It was even worse with Goethe. Moliere was an interesting choice (no one had yet mentioned a Frenchman) but there was a problem shouting the guttural R. Racine was too obscure, Hemingway too macho, Fitzgerald fine, but in the end it was unforgivable what he did to Zelda. Homer was a good choice, though Dad said The Simpsons The Simpsons had b.a.s.t.a.r.dized his reputation. had b.a.s.t.a.r.dized his reputation.

”Be-be true to yourself.” shouted Leulah. shouted Leulah. ”Scorsese!” ”Behave yourself.” ”Scorsese!” ”Behave yourself.” said Milton. ”That's not a good one,” said Hannah. ”Never behave yourself.” said Milton. ”That's not a good one,” said Hannah. ”Never behave yourself.”

”Never behave yourself” ”]ust do it!” ”Be all that you can be!”

”Don't rely on the sound-bites of American advertising to tell you how you feel/' said Hannah. ”Use your own words. What you have to say, what's in your heart, is always powerful.”

”Full-sleevedtattoos!” shouted Jade. Jade's face was now screwed up with shouted Jade. Jade's face was now screwed up with emotion like a ringing out washcloth. ”Blue, you're thinking too much,” said Hannah, turning to me. ”I -uh -” I said.

”The Canterbury Tales!” ”Mrs. Eugenia St.u.r.ds! May she live happily ever after with Mr. Mr. Mark b.u.t.ters but may they not procreate and terrorize the world with their offspring!” Mark b.u.t.ters but may they not procreate and terrorize the world with their offspring!”

”Say the first thing that comes into your head - ” ”Blue van Meer!” ”Blue van Meer!” I blurted. It slipped out like a big catfish. I froze. I prayed no one had heard me, I blurted. It slipped out like a big catfish. I froze. I prayed no one had heard me, that it'd swum into the air, far ahead of everyone's ears. ”Hannah Schneider!” ”Hannah Schneider!” shouted Hannah. shouted Hannah. ”Nigel Creech!” ”Jade Churchill Whitestone!” ”Milton Black!” ”Leulah Jane Maloney!” ”Doris Richards my fifth-grade teacher with the incredible t.i.ts!” ”h.e.l.l yeah!” ”Nigel Creech!” ”Jade Churchill Whitestone!” ”Milton Black!” ”Leulah Jane Maloney!” ”Doris Richards my fifth-grade teacher with the incredible t.i.ts!” ”h.e.l.l yeah!”

”You don't have to be lewd to be pa.s.sionate. Dare to be real. To be serious.”

”Never listen to the awful things people say about you because they're jealous!” Leulah pushed her hair out of her tiny, demure face. She had tears in her eyes. Leulah pushed her hair out of her tiny, demure face. She had tears in her eyes. ”One-one must persevere despite great adversity! One can never give up!” ”One-one must persevere despite great adversity! One can never give up!”

”Don't just be that way here,” Hannah said to us. She pointed at the mountains. ”Be that way down there.”

The remaining hike to Sugartop Summit (now a disturbing dotted line on our keyless map) took another two hours and Hannah told us we needed to pick up the pace if we wanted to get there before dark.

As we walked, the light weakening, bony pines crowding closer and closer around us, Hannah again became engrossed in a private conversation, this time with Milton. She walked very close to him (so (so close that, at certain moments, she with her great blue backpack and he with his red one, collided at the shoulders like b.u.mper cars). He nodded at something she said, his large frame hunched down on the side where she walked, as if she was causing him to erode. close that, at certain moments, she with her great blue backpack and he with his red one, collided at the shoulders like b.u.mper cars). He nodded at something she said, his large frame hunched down on the side where she walked, as if she was causing him to erode.

I knew how complimentary it could feel when Hannah talked to you, when she singled you out-opened your meek cover, boldly creased the spine, stared inside at your pages, searching for the point at which she'd stopped reading, anxious to find out what happens next. (She always read with great concentration, so you thought you were her favorite paperback until she abruptly put you down and started to read another with the same intensity.) Twenty minutes later, Hannah was talking to Charles. They broke into screechy seagull laughter; she touched his shoulder, pulling him to her, their arms and hands for a moment entwined.

”Aren't they they the happy couple,” said Jade. the happy couple,” said Jade.

Not fifteen minutes later, Hannah was walking next to Nigel (I could tell from his lowered head and sideways glances, he was listening to her a little uneasily), and soon, she was in front of me talking to Jade.

Naturally, I a.s.sumed she'd eventually move back to talk to me, me, that this was a Hannah-Student Conference, and I, bringing up the rear, was the last on the list. But when they finished their conversation -Hannah was encouraging Jade to apply for a summer interns.h.i.+p at that this was a Hannah-Student Conference, and I, bringing up the rear, was the last on the list. But when they finished their conversation -Hannah was encouraging Jade to apply for a summer interns.h.i.+p at The Was.h.i.+ngton Post The Was.h.i.+ngton Post (”Remember to be kind to yourself,” I also heard her say)-she whispered something more, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then hurried to the front of our procession without so much as a glance in my direction. (”Remember to be kind to yourself,” I also heard her say)-she whispered something more, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then hurried to the front of our procession without so much as a glance in my direction.

”Okay! Don't worry, guys!” she shouted. ”We're almost there!”

I was a mixture of indignation and melancholy by the time we reached Sugartop Summit. One tries not to pay attention to blatant favoritism (”Not everyone can be a member of the Van Meer Fan Club,” noted Dad), but when it is so unashamedly flung in one's face, one can't help but feel hurt, as if everyone else gets to be pine needles, but one is forced to be sap. Mercifully, the others didn't realize she hadn't talked to me, and so when Jade threw her backpack to the ground, stretched her arms over her head, a big smile sunseting her face and said, ”She really knows what to say, you know what I mean? Amazing” Amazing” I admit I lied; I nodded in emphatic agreement and said, ”She does.” I admit I lied; I nodded in emphatic agreement and said, ”She does.”

”Let's try to get the tents up first,” Hannah said. ”I'll help with the first one. But go take a look at that view! You'll be speechless!”

Despite Hannah's patent enthusiasm, this campground I found dreary and anticlimactic, especially after the sprawling majesty of Abram's Peak. Sugartop Summit comprised a circular dirt clearing flanked by mangy pines, and a blackened campfire where a few logs had recently burned, soft and gray around their edges like the muzzles of old dogs. Off to the right, beyond a cl.u.s.ter of boulders, was a bald rock ledge, narrow as a nearly closed door, where one could sit and spy on a naked, purplish mountain range sleeping under a shabby bedspread of fog. By now, the sun had drained away. Runny oranges and yellows clogged the horizon.

”Someone was here five minutes ago,” said Leulah.

I turned from the lookout point. She was standing in the middle of the clearing, pointing at the ground. ”What?” asked Jade next to her. I walked over to them. ”Look.” In front of the toe of her boot was a cigarette b.u.t.t. ”It was burning three seconds ago.” Crouching down, Jade picked it up as one picks up a dead goldfish.

Carefully, she sniffed it.

”You're right,” she said, throwing it on the ground. ”I can smell it. Great. Great. All we need. Some mountain scab waiting for nightfall to come f.u.c.k us all in the a.s.s.” All we need. Some mountain scab waiting for nightfall to come f.u.c.k us all in the a.s.s.”

”Hannah!” shouted Lu. ”We have to get out of here!” shouted Lu. ”We have to get out of here!”

”What's wrong?” asked Hannah.