“It does,” I say softly.
“Maybe being scared isn’t a bad thing,” they say instead. “It means we’ll be careful. It means we know this isn’t going to be easy and we won’t take any of this for granted. Because for all that we’re approaching it as a game, it isn’t. I wish it were, because if that were the case, we could press the reset button. Or take a break and reconvene and try again.”
I don’t know if Ever’s words are supposed to make me feel better, but in a strange kind of way, they do. They make me feel more centered. “This isn’t how I imagined my first time running again either. Missing it felt like life or death, and now…”
“Yeah.” Ever lifts their hand and then drops it again, almost as if they wanted to reach out to me. I can’t help but appreciate them for it. It’s not that I don’t like being touched at all, but I would rather it happens when I instigate it. When I know what to expect.
Finn paces ahead of us now. With every step, he winces, almost imperceptibly but not undetectable. Especially to someone who knows how to mask pain too.
He doesn’t know how to mask his awkward glances in my direction, though.
I push my hands into the pockets that are still lined with dust from the handfuls of pills. Would Finn understand? Would Ever understand? They both have enough on their minds as it is. Now is not the right time to bring any of this up, and part of me thinks never is the right time to bring any of this up. I don’t have the words for it. I don’t know how.
I never found the words for it with Carter, no matter how much I wanted to confide in him. Or in Sav. I would completely freeze up, and all the words were too overwhelming, too impossible to say out loud. And every time, I could see the window of opportunity close. Eyes flicking to something else. Face turned away. A smile that I didn’t want to disturb. So I never found the words, just the hunger and the need.
And now, the emptiness.
The only thing I have is this. As we near the closed-off section of the path, I fall into step with Finn. “I want to survive this,” I blurt out, and it’s as if the words are shards of glass in my throat, and at the same time they’re too vague, not enough. But I don’t turn away from him.
His eyes darken. “I know you do. We need to survive tonight, Maddy. But it doesn’t stop there. Once we’re home, you do not just need to keep surviving. You need to live.”
He draws breath to say more, but this time, I firmly keep my eyes on the path again. “We’re almost there.”
The sky above us has lightened to a pastel midnight, but when we turn another corner and the boulders appear down the path, they’re nothing more than shadows. And along the side of the path, all the way to where the boulders still topple over, a steep cliff.
It’s almost symbolic. We weren’t supposed to get off this mountain until a few days from now, until we finished our story. For some of us, it’d be our last hurrah before college, future, adulthood. And now we’re stumbling toward it through shadows so hungry, we can hardly see ourselves. I’m not prepared.
Finn comes to a dead stop.
He’s staring at the boulders. His shoulders hang low, and the overcoat he’s wearing no longer looks like it’s part of him. It’s only a costume now and an ill-fitting one at that. It looks like all the color is disappearing from him. On regular days, Finn is fierce. Even when he isn’t in costume, he wears enough pins to classify as armor and he’s equal parts bad decisions and endless loyalty. Now, his crutches are the only things that keep him standing, and he’s so pale, I half-expect his silver hair dye to drip from his hair.
Ever walks up to him, so close their shoulders touch. “Well then.”
“Yeah.”
Ever clears their throat, but keeps their voice low. “We have to find our positions. Maddy, we’ll stick to the tree line, out of sight. We’ll have to make sure that no matter what happens, we’re both on the same side of the boulders as Finn, okay?” I nod and take in the path ahead of me. “It’s a risk and we won’t be able to shadow Finn exactly, but we’ll stay close. It should be possible to get to you quickly.” They look at Finn intently while they say that.
When Finn glances up, his mouth is set in a fierce line. He hands Ever the long leather belt. “It’s the only way we can manage without walking into the trap. I’ll be fine. I’ll walk the path, ready for whatever this may bring.”
I take the opera cloak off my shoulders and pull the fabric taut between my hands. “The moment I see the Big Bad Evil Person, I’ll jump them.”
Ever nods. “And we’ll try to immobilize and tie them up.”
“Or knock them out.” Finn squeezes the grips of his crutches. “Let’s do this.”
“Game on.”
We didn’t decide on a way to say goodbye, because none of us considered we had to. But as we stand around awkwardly, before we part ways, I think the realization hits us all at the same time. This is it. This is where we make our stand. We don’t know what’ll happen from here.
All I can do is nod at two of the people closest to me, and disappear into the tree line, a sizable distance away from the path. I don’t know what else to do.
I try to keep from snapping twigs or making too much noise as I creep closer to the boulders. At the same
