Everything Beautiful Is Not Ruined by Danielle Younge-Ullman

Author:Danielle Younge-Ullman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2017-01-30T15:21:35+00:00

PEACE

(Peak Wilderness, Day Eleven, Continued)

The moon is out (again) when we stagger into the campsite. It isn’t quite dark, but it certainly will be by the time dinner is being made.

I don’t wait for anyone to give me a job to do. I don’t even worry about getting the tent up. I set my backpack on a rock near the shore, take my boots and socks off, dig out my bar of soap, and walk into the water fully clothed.

Most of the group follows suit, with the exception of Peace, who strips down first, and runs back and forth in the sand, giving the rest of us a prolonged (should we desire) view of his genitals bouncing in the glowing pink last light of day.

At least he’s going to bathe.

It’s a long beach, and we each find our own spaces in the water to shimmy out of our clothing and try to rub the mud off. Once my pants, shirt, and socks are done, I dash out of the water in my underwear and bra (another thing my mom would freak over, but how can I even care?). I wring the clean-ish clothes out and put them on the rock next to my pack, then go back into the water.

It’s cold—really cold—but I want desperately to be alone, and the cold feels so good on my sore feet, on the hundreds of bug bites, on my sore muscles. I kick back and forth in a futile effort to warm up, then pull my bra and panties off, looping them over one arm so I don’t lose them before I can get them washed.

Before long it’s just me, my dwindling bar of soap, the reflection of the rising moon left in the water, and my miserable, angry heart beating against the cold.

I am too tired to cry.

I am so tired of everything, about everything, that I can imagine allowing the cold to take over, letting myself sink under the surface, and staying there, releasing my hold on the world and everything in it. I’m so tired, I’m not even shocked by the thought.

Then I hear splashing and turn to see Peace coming back into the lake.

I sink farther down into the water, hoping he somehow doesn’t know I’m here, and/or will get the hint that I don’t want company.

But no.

He comes right over to me.

And there I am, horribly aware, suddenly, that I am naked under the water, and not too tired to care about that.

“Hey, fearless leader,” he says, giving me a splash.

“Hey, Bob,” I say, with a deliberate lack of enthusiasm.

“Peace.”

“Right. Um, no, thanks.”

“No thanks for what?”

Another splash.

“For the splashing game invitation.”

“What’s the matter, afraid to drop your soap?” he says, with a yucky waggle of his eyebrows.

“I’m just trying to enjoy the peace, Peace.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Alone, if you don’t mind.” I drift sideways.

He follows. “Free country.”

“What, are you five?”

“Hey, hey, it’s all love, baby. All love.”

“Riiiight.”

“You don’t like me,” he says.

“I don’t know you,” I reply. I’ve hunched

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