The pressure was killing me. I just had to say it and get it over with. “I changed the recipe!”
“What are you talking about? You don’t think I know my own doughnuts.”
“They’re still your doughnuts. I didn’t change much. I just added a little mashed potato and instant coffee.”
Winnie looked at her doughnut. “You expect me to believe there’s mashed potato and coffee in here.”
“There is. I’m serious.”
“O-kay, Slick. Whatever you say. Maybe some chili peppers in here too?” She took another big bite.
“He’s not kidding,” Josh said.
“You know how I know you couldn’t have changed my recipe?”
“How?”
“Because anything different would be worse. And these are just too good,” she said as she helped herself to another one.
And just like that, what was right and what was wrong got all mixed up. It hadn’t felt right not to tell Winnie what I’d done, but now that I had, it didn’t feel right to make her believe it. I just knew she’d think I’d changed the recipe because I didn’t think it was good enough and that wasn’t true. Not even close.
I gave Josh a now-what look.
“Uh, I just remembered something,” Josh said. “My mom wanted us to move some books. We’ll be back in a second. C’mon, Tris.”
“Take your time. I’ve got my doughnuts for company.”
I followed Josh out of the room and into the computer nook.
“We have to let it go,” he whispered.
“I know. That’s what I was thinking. Does that make us liars?”
“No. We tried to tell her,” he said. “I’m just worried that if we make her believe it, she’ll think we thought there was something wrong with her doughnuts.”
“I know, but there wasn’t. Maybe I should just go back to using the recipe like it was.”
“Why? She loves these doughnuts. We love these doughnuts. Plus, she thinks they’re the exact same ones she was making anyway. What’s she going to think if you go back to the other recipe?”
“She’ll realize we were telling the truth, that these are different, and then…probably think I didn’t like the doughnuts the way she made them.”
“Right. She’ll feel…”
“Bad,” I said.
“Really bad.”
“Okay, so we agree. We’ll let it go, but not because we were too chicken to tell her the truth.”
“Right,” Josh said. “We told her. We just don’t want to make her feel bad by making her believe it.”
“Right. And everyone’s—”
“You boys done whispering yet.” Winnie’s head popped up from behind a computer monitor.
I jumped. “Sorry. We were just…”
“About to come back,” Josh said.
“Don’t bother. I ate all the doughnuts. I’m going home to get some Pepto,” she said. “See you Saturday, bright and early.” It was only then as I watched Winnie walk out of the library that I realized that the sun had already moved all the way down the bookshelves.
“Oh no! What time is it?”
“After four thirty. Call your parents and tell them my mom will drop you off after closing.”
I felt bad asking Josh’s mom to drive just because I couldn’t keep track of time. “Nah. I can make it.”
And I did, but just. Only a thin band of light blue was still above the mountains when I reached the driveway.
I ditched my bike in the bushes at the bottom of Terror Mountain because I was too winded to drag it up. And even without it, the hike took forever. After blasting my legs biking home, they felt so heavy, it was as if I had bricks loaded on my feet.
“I’m here! I’m here!” I jumped up and down, waving my arms as I came out of the woods onto the lawn. My mother was at the kitchen window, and she waved. She must have heard me, but it was definitely too dark to see me by now. She didn’t look like she was mad. She didn’t look like she’d even noticed it was getting dark.
Safe!
I dropped to the ground and lay there in the dead leaves, breathing hard.
“Tris!”
It sounded like Jeanine, but I couldn’t see her. I sat up and looked back at the house. My mother wasn’t at the window anymore, and the front door was still closed.
“Tris!”
“Jeanine?” I stood up and looked around.
“Up here!” Something rustled high in the branches of a tall, nearby tree. I walked over to its base and looked up. In one of the highest branches, I could just make out the shape of a person.
“What are you doing?”
Jeanine made a loud, long, snot-slurping sound. “I’m stuck.”
“Are you okay?”
“No! I’m stuck.”
“I meant, are you hurt?”
“Like physically?”
“Yeah, like are you too hurt to climb down?”
I listened for an answer. “Jeanine?”
“I got a scratch on my hand!”
“And you can’t climb down?”
She didn’t answer.
“Jeanine?”
Still nothing.
“Jeanine, did you try to climb down?”
“I can’t. I told you. I’m stuu—” Her last word was eaten up by loud sobs.
“You’re not stuck. You’re just scared.”
The sobs got louder.
I looked back at the house. Mom was afraid of heights, and she hadn’t even let Dad climb a stepladder since his concussion.
“Okay, Jeanine. Just hang on.” I reached up, grabbed onto a thick branch with both hands, jammed a foot in the groove where the trunk met the branch, and pulled myself up.
Climbing that tree was actually easier than climbing the rope ladder up to my room. Unlike a rope ladder, a tree does you the favor of standing still. Also, unlike other trees, this one had branches in just the right places so you never had to stretch too far.
“This tree is awesome,” I called when I was about halfway up.
“It scored highest for climbability.”
I laughed. “You ranked the trees.”
“I studied branch spacing and thickness to determine best climbability.”
“Of course you did,” I said to myself.
In no time, I was straddling a branch on the opposite side of the trunk from Jeanine.
“Cool view,” I said. Sky was all around us. It was darker now, and a few stars had already popped out.
“Oh, yeah?”
I peered around the trunk and squinted at her. “Are your eyes closed?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I think I know how to get you unstuck.”
“I’m not opening
