Page 28 of Valley Girls
The Valley seemed the same—despite Walker’s jog into the night. No moon, but bright stars peeked out beyond the trees and rocks. Easing her breath out, she dialed Curtis’s old number.
The phone rang. Her breath held tight.
It rang. And rang. And rang.
And Rilla stared into the night.
Three days later, Rilla felt like a toy everyone had fought over and then forgotten about. No matter where she walked in the Valley, or how long she waited on the porch, trying to do homework while she watched the edges of the meadow for someone she recognized to cross through, the magic of the Valley did not conjure her anyone. Not this time.
Rilla kept texting anyone she remembered from home, hoping she didn’t sound like the desperate, insecure person that she was. But even if they did reply, no one talked for long. And no one would give her Curtis’s new number, no matter that she just wanted to apologize.
Worse, while stalking everyone on Instagram, she’d found Caroline’s account. Despite Petra creating expectations, Rilla wasstillsurprised at how beautiful and professional the feed looked. Like, a more-gorgeous-than-you’ll-ever-be girl sitting cross-legged on a cot, tied to a giant rock wall, laughing like a dork, as she ate from a tin can. There were pictures of Caroline climbing in tight pants without panty-lines or weird bulges or anything awkward. The comments on those numbered into the thousands and included a lot of not nice things, but Rilla didn’t pay much attention to those. The most recent ones were Valley sunsets, and climbing gear laid out. Rilla clicked one and saw the meal Adeena had made. Everything looked like a goddamn advertisement. Rilla kept scrolling. Before Yosemite there was Argentina. Arizona. Spain. Mountains bigger and higher than anything Rilla could imagine, even with Yosemite’s reset to her sense of scale. Food she’d never seen. Beaches she could only imagine. The one picture Caroline had posted of her and Walker for #nationalsiblingsday had a ton of comments about her hot brother. Those comments were made by girls prettier than anyone in Rainelle, let alone Rilla.
Rilla made a gagging noise and closed the app. How on earth had she thought she could be friends with Caroline? Or have a chance with Walker?
It was like all the embarrassment she should have felt, caught up in one rush of red-hot agony. Oh god, they probably hated her. They probably thought she was the dumbest person. They were probably talking right now about that awkward girl who had no idea. Thenerveshe had ...
Rilla looked at the phone, and found herself clicking it back on.
Caroline was from southern Ohio, which was a similar place to central West Virginia. Caroline was on her own, with her sibling, like Rilla. It was impossible to look at those pictures and not feel that all Rilla needed to do to fix herself was be like Caroline.
Irritated at herself for even remotely believing in magic and her ability to be that cool in the first place, Rilla resolved to never think of climbing again. She was definitely afraid of heights. It was a ridiculous sport. She already had a problem with recklessness. She didn’t have a death wish, no matter what anyone thought. It was stupid.
She closed Instagram. There.Done.
Determined to forget climbing, she spent her days at HUFF, hanging out with Jonah. He fed her leftovers from the kitchen, and she tagged along as they went through the routine of every day—work, food, and laundry. She took a spot in the makeshift living room formed of a rug and camp chairs in the dirt, rushing to make it back to Thea’s at a reasonable hour. When she wasn’t with Jonah, she unpacked her clothes, hung Christmas lights in the rafters of her attic, and tried to do homework.
In the middle of the week, Thea had her weekend. She had a serious-slash-awkward conversation with Rilla about how Ranger Lauren was actually her girlfriend, while Lauren leaned on the counter and tried to look supportive, but kept grinning at them like she found the whole thing hilarious, except she was wearing her glasses and they made her eyes bigger in a way that almost cartoonish, so Rilla kept trying not to laugh when she looked at her.
Finally, Thea finished her speech.
“You had to wait to tell me this?” Rilla asked as soon as Thea stopped talking. Maybe that was why Thea was on edge about everything. But, like, how terrible did Thea think Rilla was that she’d be upset about this?
“I just didn’t want to overwhelm you,” Thea said.
“Okay. Well. Good to know. Anything else?”
Thea frowned and glanced to Lauren.
Lauren shrugged.
“No?” Thea said, with no confidence.
“Thanks for updating me on your relationship status,” Rilla said, hopping off the kitchen stool and grabbing an apple before heading back to the attic. It was disconcerting though. To find out something this big about a person she’d known her whole life. Had she missed it? She didn’t want Thea to know how she felt—it might make Thea feel like she had to send her home.
It took forty-five minutes of getting distracted remembering things from their childhood, given this new information, before Thea was the same old Thea, and Rilla was restless again.
She finished one unit of trigonometry out of sheer and total boredom; but after she discovered Thea’s laptop had movies, schoolwork didn’t stand a chance.
•
“Your sister probably doesn’t want to go back to West Virginia because she’s got a girlfriend. Not because of you,” Jonah said, handing her a coffee a tourist hadn’t liked the look of. He usually worked in the cafeteria, but was covering the shift of a friend.
“West Virginia has lesbians,” Rilla snapped, exhausted by the constant comments about things West Virginia was or was not, as told by people who had never lived there.
He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but do they get married and have babies and put those babies in Montessori preschools?”
“Monta what?”
