Page 45 of Valley Girls
Quick as a flash, she entered the trees, hopped off the planks, and kicked up pine needles and dirt behind her in tufts. The sharp cedar air seared into her lungs. Golden light filtered through the trees, enticing anyone who wandered through to slow down and breathe deep. But Rilla sped past.
She slowed for the rocks at the river’s edge, and waded through a shallow part of the Merced, straining her thighs against the current of the water. Her foot slipped and she slowed nearly to a walk. She couldn’t afford to fall—not in this frigid water, with deeper, darker currents farther down. God, it was hard to run through a river. This was a first in an escape route. She pressed on, and it became shallower, licking at her ankles, until she was just soggy sneakers on the bank. Up the other side, she redoubled her speed and crossed the road.
Someone honked.
Rilla kept running, her shoes squelching in the dirt.
Now running on the opposite side of the Valley, she turned and ran west, with Half Dome at her back. She knew the long impenetrable wall bordering her side of the Valley for all its names now. She knew them from paging through the guidebooks with Adeena and Petra, looking for easy climbs they could top-rope before the sun slid into night. Maybe one day, though, she might know the walls by touch.
Rilla wove around the Benzes and Caddys waiting for the valet at the four-star hotel sequestered behind a grove of oaks in a meadow under the cliffs. Almost home. Almost.
She drew sharp breaths through her nose. The sweat stung her eyes. Was that a siren? Her ears strained over her heartbeat.
Shit. It was.
She hurdled the bushes into Yosemite Village—past the little store, the firehouse, the jail she’d spent the night in—and flew through the mulch of the cultivated beds around the visitor center and administrative offices. There were more tourists here, near the waterfalls and most food options. She dodged a clustered Japanese family with a baby in a buckled carrier and construction workers pushing wheelbarrows, slipping back into the woods. Almost. Almost. She was going to throw up. No. She was going to make it. Tightening her fists, she pushed the last bit of energy she had into her feet.
Finally, the edge of her meadow.
Ranger Stafford stood outside, grilling in the front of the house with his twins in a kiddie pool. He shook his head as she passed, turning his back as if he didn’t want to see. Leena and Lamont, his twins, stilled in the pool, waved and laughed.
Rilla would have laughed if she didn’t have a stitch in her side and her heart about to explode out of her chest.
That was definitely a siren following her home.
Shiiiiit!
With all that she had left in her legs and lungs, she sprinted through the dry grass for the back of Thea’s house and lunged for the rusted fire escape.
Her sweaty hands slipped on the rungs, but she made it to the back roof, and jumped for the window. She clutched the edge and let her legs do the work—sneakers pawing at the siding and pushing her up. Three weeks ago, when she first moved here, she couldn’t have done this. Maybe escaped, but never have gotten back inside. She grunted and groaned, pulling herself over the edge and into the narrow window opening. She couldn’t fade now.
The siren sounded like it turned into the meadow.
Shit.
She fell onto the floor in a greasy, sweaty, gasping heap.
Home. But she hadn’t beaten him yet. Still on the floor, Rilla kicked her sneakers off. Ripped her shirt up. She crawled onto all fours. Closed her eyes. Her heart slammed against her ribs—calm down, calm down, calm down.
Her clothes rested where she’d laid them out and she leaned against the bed as she wrestled into them. Tanktop. Gym shorts slipped over sweating skin. New socks. The same things she’d worn to lunch with Thea and Lauren. Rilla yanked out her ponytail, and her face felt like it was on fire.
The siren stopped. He was here.
Come on. Come on. Her fingers trembled as she scooped ice out of the cooler under her cot. Rubbed it over her face. Neck. The bright red splotching on her thighs. Oh god, she had to stop breathing so fast. Her side cramped. She fought nausea. Grabbing perfume, she sprayed a cloud and wiggled-slashed-rolled through it as she plopped on the floor, opened her books, and tucked her hair behind her ears.
Made it.
Her heart beat so loud, she couldn’t tell if it was in her ears making her head swim, or if it was the sound of Ranger Dick Face’s knocking. She waited, ears straining.
“Rilla?” Thea shouted from below.
Rilla took a deep breath, willing her heart to steady. Calm. Calm. She’d been studying the last hour. These ridiculous problems in trigonometry. She rubbed the pencil across her fingers, the lead smudging her calluses. “Just a second.”Shit.Her voice sounded ragged and just the reply had used all her air.
Slowly, she stood. Fighting the dizziness. Her face was hot, but not actively sweating like under her hair, thanks to the ice and her clean, cool tank top. She had this. Escaping in a small town was a thing she knew as well as she knew anything.
Carefully, she descended the ladder. Walked down the hall. A confused, slightly annoyed expression arranged on her face. “Yeah?” she asked Thea.
Ranger Dick Face stood sweating and red in the door.
