Wild by Hannah Moskowitz

Author:Hannah Moskowitz
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Young Adult, Gay, GLBT, Disability, Fiction, Romance, Realistic
ISBN: 9781973423881
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: 2017-12-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 1 1

I start to rise back to the surface, like I always do eventually. The semester ends (Jordan pretends to be shocked at my A in ASL I, and my teacher gives me the go-ahead to skip II and start III next semester), Gin brings in the shitty grades everyone expected but fills the house with Christmas cookies, and Chelsea comes home for the holidays. We spend a lot of time at the yogurt shop even though Chelsea doesn't work anymore, just harassing Phoebe while she's trying to get work done. I guess Phoebe's become part of our little friend group, now. Honestly, my friend group feels more like Jordan and Colin nowadays, but they don't need to know that.

​The English is still nice, but I'm always trying to interpret them in my head, for practice. Imagining how my hands would do the lazy way Max slurs his words, or what kind of non-manual markers I could do to get Chelsea's sarcasm just right.

​They're already at the yogurt shop when I come in the Tuesday before Christmas. They came in pretty soon after it opened for smoothies and a place away from their loud siblings and louder parents, but I spent all of last weekend eating cheesecake with Jordan and getting no more exercise than kicking around sheets, so I just finished up a twenty-mile run and I feel fantastic. I stumble in and wave at Phoebe in a way that's hopefully specific enough that she'll know to throw some of everything in the blender for me and I starfish into one of the pink metal chairs.

​“This is driving us crazy,” Chelsea says. “Your race. It has trail markers, right? They're saying it doesn't have trail markers.”

​“Don't interrogate him right off the bat,” Max says. “We haven't seen him in ages. You'll scare him away again.”

​“I watched a documentary on it,” Phoebe says. “There are no trail markers.”

​I point at her. “That's a good documentary.”

​“There have got to be trail markers,” Chelsea says.

​“Nope.”

​Max says, “So what, you GPS the whole thing?”

​“No way, you can't bring cell phones out.”

​“You can't bring a cell phone out? What if you get hurt?”

​“Then hopefully someone finds you, I guess. I imagine they send out search parties. After the race is over.” I wonder how many search parties they sent for my dad before they gave up. He must have called the Tennessee police from the same pay phone he called us from, eventually.

​“What if you want to quit?”

​“They have what's called quitter's road,” I say. “Like an easier path back to camp. You can walk it or try to hitchhike. It's an actual street. If you can get out of the woods and find it.”

​“What if you can't get out of the woods and find it?” Chelsea says.

​“Then I guess you die.”

​Max says, “I feel like maybe you shouldn't do this.”

​“But seriously,” Chelsea says. “There have to be trail makers. You can't just memorize a map.”

​“There's no map,” I say.

​Chelsea plops down her yogurt cup.

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