Page 5 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
My words stop, even if the numbers keep moving through my head. Exactly how much water we’ll need on the trail depends on a lot of factors. How fast we’re walking. How hot it is outside. Our body weight relative to how much weight we’re carrying. The distance we have to travel before we can resupply or find potable water on the trail. Perry ought to be glad I can run the calculations in my head. Dehydration is a big problem for long-distance hikers.
“Stop it,” Perry says.
“Stop what?” I say as I shoulder my pack.
“Stop calculating.” Perry grabs his own bag and follows me to the front porch.
“I’m not calculating anything.”
“Yes, you are. Your eyes are doing that thing where they dart around. I promise we’ll be fine. There’s water all over the trail.”
We will be fine. I know this. People hike the Appalachian Trail every summer without coming close to the kinds of ridiculous calculations that keep my brain occupied. Best guesses, rough estimates, those are good enough. Especially when there are so many unexpected variables with long-distance hiking thatcan’tbe calculated.
That doesn’t mean I won’t be doing the math anyway.
Sometimes I forget that constant number-crunching isn’t normal. That all drivers aren’tcalculating exactly when they’ll reach their destination based on slight fluctuations in their speed. That people on walks aren’t estimating the number ofsteps they’ll take before they reach some landmark in the distance. But it’s how my brain works. It’s actually why I decided to teach chemistry instead of math. There are still a lot of numbers in chemistry, but the science part gives my brain a break from the constant calculating.
Tyler pulls up minutes later, and we load up our gear. I take a deep breath and climb into the back seat of Tyler’s SUV, content to let Perry take the front.
I need this trip. The decompression. The time in the mountains. The time away.
I settle into my seat and tap my cell phone into my palm. We won’t be without service while we’re hiking, and I’ve got a solar charger in my pack, but coverage will be spotty in places. If responding to Kate starts a conversation, I’d rather have it now, when I’ve got hours to kill in the car, than later, when I’m on the trail and Perry is watching my every move.
But what do I say? And how do I say it?
No exclamation points. That’s important. I want to seem chill. Not overly exuberant. The fact that it’s already been an hour since she first texted is a good thing. I won’t seem over-eager,annnndnow I sound as bad as the girls in my freshmen environmental science class stressing about how long they can leave guyson readwithout responding.
I have to just do it. Respond. Adult this situation once and for all.
I pull up my texting app, but a new message pops up before I make it to Kate’s thread, this one from Monica, a fellow teacher at Green River Academy and the woman I sort of dated a few months back. I may or may not appreciate the delay. Even if itiscaused by Monica.
Monica: Hey! Wasn’t sure you’d check your email before leaving. Confirmation just came through that the next school board meeting is delayed until you’re back in town. I’m gladthey’re seeing the benefit of having you there to defend the program. In the meantime, enjoy your trip!
I close out the text thread and pull up my Green River Academy email. Sure enough, there’s the form email addressed to the entire district pushing back the date of the next school board meeting, plus a separate message addressed only to me. It’s brief, relaying what Monica has already told me.
Brody—The school board agreed you deserve the opportunity to speak for the program. I can’t make any promises, but we’ll give it our best shot. –John
It’s more encouragement than I’ve gotten from John Talbot, Green River Academy’s principal, in weeks, so I’ll take it.
Green River Academy is a charter high school focused on integrating experiential outdoor learning with regular classroom experiences. When they hired me to teach Chemistry and Environmental Science, they already had enrichment programs that covered rock-climbing, backpacking, horseback riding, and swimming.
What they didn’t have—weirdly, because the academy sits less than a mile from the Green River—was whitewater kayaking. It took a little bit of maneuvering. Okay,a lotof maneuvering. I wrote grant proposals, begged for donations and support from local businesses, completed layers and layers of safety certifications. All total, it took thirteen months for me to get the Green River Academy whitewater kayaking program officially off the ground. The first year, six kids enrolled, which was good because I’d only managed to acquire seven kayaks. Five years later, the program is maxed out at twenty-five high school students, with another twenty on a waiting list.
And now the whole thing is under attack.
I force my jaw to unclench and take a long, slow breath. The whole point of this trip is to getawayfrom the stress of all this.
Another text from Monica pops up.
Monica: Would love to get together as soon as you’re back in town. Without the teachers’ lounge, I’m going to miss you!She ends the message with a kissing emoji that makes me roll my eyes.
Monica is very nice. But she’s also not taking the hint. And by hint, I mean a very specific conversation in which I told her I’m not attracted to her and only want us to be friends. I don’t know how I could possibly be more clear.
Monica started working at the academy two years after I did, and since we sort of knew each other in high school, she glommed on quick, using me as her go-to guy for questions about the school. Everything from teachers’ lounge politics to what cafeteria meals ought to be avoided. I never minded her questions that first year. She’s a genuinely good person. Great, even.
That doesn’t mean I feel any spark when I’m around her.
I can almost hear Perry’s voice in my head.You’ll never feel a spark with someone new until you get Kate out of your head.
