Only The Trees Know, page 11
Liam didn’t make a sound. He’d never been silent with me. If anything, I’d had a difficult time shutting him up. That realization was what made me fixate on mapping out the differences between how he treated us. Usually there was a film of jealousy that I watched them through. For once I was able to set that aside and really see them.
All of the correct actions were there. He held her close, sharing space. His tongue was most certainly rammed down her mouth. Yet even with all this, he wasn’t passionate. There was no spark. Instead it looked almost clinical.
The truth was glaringly obvious: he wasn’t into it.
My breath caught. That bastard. I knew Liam didn’t really like her and this proved that he was only faking their relationship to tick me off. There wasn’t any other reason for their messing around. He wasn’t getting any pleasure out of it.
Next to me, Parker took off his boots. Blood and pus soaked through the white material of his socks from where the new shoes had rubbed against his foot. He stripped off one and then began to run his hand along the sole of the foot. “How did I get rocks in my boots?”
I looked away from Liam and Zoe, and considered Parker’s bloody foot. “Your feet are going to blister. Maybe you should wrap them with something.”
My own feet were messed up too. Now that I was sitting and thinking about them, pain shot up my insoles. I knew better than to take my boots off like Parker had. If I did, I’d never get them back on, let alone continue to walk for the rest of the day.
Liam disentangled himself from Zoe’s face. He winced at the sight of Parker’s feet. “You’re supposed to break in your boots before you hike.”
“Is this another one of those things you were supposed to tell me and didn’t?” Parker asked Liam.
“No, that’s logical,” Liam said.
“Whatever.” Parker rolled his eyes then pulled his pack between his legs. He rummaged for a moment, fishing out a Coke. He popped the top and guzzled it.
I whistled, snapping my fingers.
Parker pulled out another and threw it to me.
“That’s why your bag’s so heavy,” Liam said, dryly.
Parker belched, crunching his can and tossing it into the woods behind him. “It’s only a couple of cans. It’s not like I’m carrying a twenty-four pack.”
Zoe wrinkled her nose. “Nice.”
“Drinking soda will make you thirstier. You need to hydrate with water.” Liam took a sip from the tube attached over his shoulder to his CamelBak as if to say, “this is the way you’re supposed to do it.”
“You’re full of sage advice,” I said to Liam. No one cared about anything he had to say at this point, except Zoe. I was sick of the sanctimonious crap.
“It’s not my fault that you guys don’t listen,” Liam said.
Parker did a pantomime to Liam with his hand, moving his fingers like they were speaking, then switched it to a gesture of self-pleasuring, letting Liam know he was full of it and to shut the hell up. Then Parker pulled out a bag of Funyuns. He opened them while propping up his bloody feet.
I leaned over to stick my hand into the bag and steal a few. “Did you swipe these?”
“Yeah, when that asshole yelled about what a mess we made.”
“We could have gone to jail for that,” I teased with my mouth full and spitting chewed Funyun.
“Nah, he was too busy being pissed at you for starting shit.” Parker reached back into his bag and pulled out several beef sticks, waving them. “Got these too. Want one?”
I snatched the one offered. Who knew a quarter day of walking would have me so exhausted and hungry? I’d thought I was in shape. Turned out walking around my neighborhood was far different from hiking. And I realized I hadn’t packed well now that Liam gave me shit for it. He was taking care of the main food, but he’d told us to pack snacks. He’d probably meant those gross high protein trail bars.
“How much farther till we reach our campsite?” Zoe twisted her hair into a ponytail. She’d worn no makeup today. It was something that had never happened and it weirded me out.
True to his word, Liam had planned the entire trip. He carried the maps and consulted them as we hiked. “Another couple miles. We need to make it to Skeleton Lake today.”
“A couple of miles?” she whined. It was the whine I hated, the one that scratched the back of my ears and made me want to run away from her rather than give her what she wanted.
“There’s nowhere to camp between here and there. Don’t worry, we’ll make it.” He gave her a side hug, squeezing her close.
She put her head on his shoulder. “Skeleton Lake sounds creepy. Are you sure we should stay there?”
“It’s only a lake,” Parker said. “Who cares what it’s called?”
“There’s probably dead fish floating in it,” Zoe said.
Parker rolled his eyes. “There’s not any dead fish.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I Googled that shit.”
Ignoring their snipping, I said to Liam, “I thought we were taking the trail through Tioga Lake.” All of our parents had demanded an itinerary so if we got lost, someone could find us. Liam had drawn it up, and I had paid enough attention to it that I felt confident talking about our route.
Liam shook his head. “Too many people. Besides, it’s faster this way.”
“Are we in a rush to get to the summit?” I asked sarcastically.
“I thought you guys were sick of walking. Now you want to take the longer trail?”
“No.” He had a point. We should get this over with ASAP. The faster we were there, the faster I could nap. My feet spasmed in agreement.
Deciding that I needed a little pain management, I reached into my pack and pulled out a baggie filled with prerolled joints. I figured it was the easiest way to travel with them. It was my idea of prepping for our vacation. My feet may be about to fall off, and I may not be hydrated, but I was damn sure going to supplement with the only thing that would get me through this trip.
I put a joint in my mouth, holding it there while I put the baggie away and dug for my lighter.
“Dude, share.” Parker had his hand open, reaching out to snatch it from my lips.
I angled away, glaring. Talking around the joint, I said, “Smoke your own.”
He’d brought his own stash. I’d made sure to watch him pack it. Because I didn’t want him smoking mine. I was sick to death of sharing with him, not when he still owed me a fortune. This was just like him, working through my stuff before he started on his own—and then he most likely wouldn’t share.
“What’s the point of lighting two? We’ll smoke yours now and mine later.”
Right, as if I believed that.
I found my lighter and lit the joint. It had been at the very bottom of my pack, so now I had a bunch of clothes and other crap littered on the ground. The pungent smell of weed filled the air. I inhaled a long drag, then another.
“Come on. Give it up.” Parker took his feet off his pack in order to lean closer to me.
I frowned and took another hit, and then reluctantly handed the joint over.
“You can’t smoke in a forest,” Zoe said. “You’ll start a fire.”
She was the stupidest person ever. I raised my eyebrow, speaking slowly for the mental case. “If you can light a campfire, you can smoke a joint.”
“But…” She looked to Liam.
Liam shrugged. He reached across the trail and took the joint from Parker, because of course he could be a douchebag to me but he had no problem smoking my stash.
I made a sound of protest at the exchange that went unheeded.
“Josiah’s right,” Liam said.
I didn’t care what Zoe thought. I’d already dismissed her, instead focused on rescuing my joint from Liam. I was over this sharing thing: weed, pills, sexual partners. We weren’t meant to be that close of a group. It fucked us up.
I got up to get my joint back, extending my hand for Liam to hand it over.
Zoe glared.
I glared right back. Screw her. She couldn’t intimidate me. She treated Liam like her property, and if I got too close to him she freaked. If she had to watch over him that much, there was obviously something wrong in paradise.
Liam ran his fingers along the back of my hand in a caress, startling me. I’d been so focused on Zoe, that I hadn’t been paying attention to him. Not that I’d expected any contact when I’d reached for the joint, let alone one that indicated he wanted me. An uncontrolled shiver ran through my body even as I cursed my weakness.
I turned my glare to Liam. I hated how he manipulated me. It crushed my ego and my soul a little every time.
Zoe had turned away and Liam took full advantage of it by giving me a wink and a flirty smile.
That fucker.
I snatched the joint and retreated back to my tree. No way that smoking it would give me any sense of calm. I was too wound up.
“Someone’s coming,” Zoe said as she jumped off the rock, snatching up her pack. “Put that shit out. It could be a ranger.”
I took another hit, ignoring her.
Whoever it was made a lot of noise. He crashed through the brush, announcing his presence long before he stepped onto the path where we could see him.
I’d expected a hiker. Though when I thought about it, a hiker would have been on the main trail rather than making his way through a side trail like we were. This man looked as if he made his home in the forest. His beard was overgrown and grizzly, and he looked as if he hadn’t showered in days. Little pieces of sticks and leaves were nested in his hair and beard. He didn’t seem to notice them, like he didn’t notice us at first.
We’d seen this guy before.
“It’s the crazy dude from the store,” Parker said. “Did he follow us?”
Liam stood and grabbed his pack. “I hope not. Let’s get out of here.”
I finished my joint, stubbing it out with my heel.
Parker had risen too, though made no move to leave. “I’m gonna kick his ass this time.”
Liam hissed, “You’re not gonna fight him again.”
“What do you think he wants?” Zoe reached out to grab Liam’s hand.
I stood slowly, shaking myself loose, glad I hadn’t taken off my boots. “Maybe he smelled the pot and wants a hit.” Then I turned to Parker. “Put on your boots.”
He looked like he might argue, but eventually did as I asked. Even if we did fight the guy, Parker couldn’t be stupid enough to do it shoeless in the forest.
Parker was tying his second boot when the guy finally noticed us.
“What are you doing here?” the man yelled, his words slurred. He walked closer, bringing with him the pungent odor of urine and body funk.
He didn’t seem to be focused on any of us in particular and I thought that maybe the dude was crazy.
Liam stepped forward, planting himself in front of Zoe. “Dude, go away.”
Crazy guy started yelling nonsensical stuff I couldn’t understand. It made the birds squawk as they angrily took flight. Limbs twisted overhead, raining down pine needles.
Parker puffed up and cracked his knuckles, then he loosened his neck, shifting his head from side to side. It wasn’t intimidating. He was a little too short and a lot too skinny to be a threat. “Get out of here, old man,” he said.
The grizzly responded by shouting, “Can’t be here. These are my woods.” And then he pulled out a knife.
“Oh, my god,” Zoe squealed as she backed away. Her feet made loud scraping sounds as they slid into the dirt.
I stepped forward so that I stood in front of Liam and Parker. I took out my knife and flicked it open. Then I showed it to the guy. “Big deal, I got one too.”
I could feel Liam’s stare. He asked under his shaky breath, “What are you doing?”
It was quite obvious what I was doing, so I ignored him. Besides, I doubted he had a better plan.
“We told you at the store to back off, man,” Parker said.
The man yelled again, his hand waving the knife.
“We’re not looking for trouble,” Liam said with his most calm voice.
“Go away,” Parker screamed and began to jump around like an idiot.
But it worked.
The guy huffed a couple of times, and then turned and shuffled back the way he’d come.
“Can we get going? Cuz I’m freaked out,” Zoe said from behind us. When I turned, she had her arms around her middle and she shivered.
I put away my knife and grabbed my gear to restuff my pack. “Yeah, because that dude isn’t going to stay gone for long.”
Chapter Sixteen
NOW…
Hyum Sok sat nervously in the witness box. The questioning so far had centered on the straightforward stuff: who he was, when he’d migrated to America, that sort of thing. It should have been easy, and yet he looked close to passing out.
His gaze jumped with each question, darting around the room. He’d look at the jury, offering them a nervous smile, or look to Ms. Johnson and expel his breath, or even Dawson’s way with his brow pulled tight. Not once did he look in my direction.
I wanted him to, daring him to say to my face what he recounted on the stand. He needed to acknowledge what he was doing: sentencing me to a life of hell with his testimony. Sitting back in my chair, I absently cracked my knuckles. More because I was bored than to relieve tension.
Dawson gave me a stern look followed by a pointed throat clearing.
On my other side, Number Two—whose name I still did not know—said from the side of his mouth, “Stop fidgeting.”
I bit back a frustrated sigh, sitting up and straightening my posture.
Mr. Sok wore thick brown glasses that covered most of his face and made his eyes appear like huge saucers. Headphones covered his ears, giving him direct access to the interpreter, who worked to the side of the room feeding Sok the translated questions. Sometimes he answered in Korean. Other times he answered with heavily accented English.
Sophia Johnson shuffled her papers, before starting her next line of questioning. When she was ready, she gripped the podium, her nails painted the exact orange of her heels. She pursed her lips. “Mr. Sok, you work at the Tulumne Meadows market, is that correct?”
Mr. Sok nodded his head once. “Yes.”
“What do you do there?”
“I’m a store clerk.”
Ms. Johnson nodded, already knowing the answer. She quickly ran down her list of questions, moving on to the next with barely a pause. “How long have you been employed there?”
“Three years.”
Ms. Johnson made a noise of assent, still nodding. “And at this market, what kinds of things do you sell?”
There was a long pause where Mr. Sok crinkled his brow while listening to the interpreter. “Things for hikers. Food, water, backpacks. General items.”
This was a stupid waste of time; no one cared what they sold. On the paper in front of me that was supposed to be for notes, I drew a cartoon version of Sok on the stand complete with horns and spewing venom. The skin I made blotchy, and the glasses I drew so that they had circles of confusion surrounding them. Out of his mouth I wrote a river of the word “LIES” in various ways.
“Knock it off.” Number Two shoved an elbow into my arm, knocking mine off the table.
I slipped forward, catching myself. The movement caused my pen to run a dark slash down the center of my drawing. I clenched my pen making my fingers white. How dare this douche nozzle physically assault me. I sat back, though, pretending to pay attention again forcing the anger I felt not to show.
Ms. Johnson consulted her notes. “And how many hikers do you personally see every year?”
“I don’t know.”
“Estimate,” she pushed.
Sok shrugged his shoulders. “Thousands.”
Ms. Johnson looked up, straight at Mr. Sok. “In all that time, how many guests do you remember who shop there?”
He looked perplexed. His brow scrunched. “Not many.”
I looked at the prosecution table. There were several attorneys crowding the desk though none of them had yet to take the podium to ask witness questions. Their heads were constantly together, whispering as they dug through reams of paper for whatever Ms. Johnson wanted. They were efficient and doggedly focused.
At the moment something seemed to be happening. They were close to each other making subtle but frantic movements. Paper shuffled loudly as they hurriedly scrambled through a cardboard box. One attorney held up a stack of papers that Ms. Johnson grabbed. She didn’t break stride in her questioning while she flipped through it.
“Stop staring,” Number Two whispered.
I blinked and looked away. Where did he want me to look? Not at the jury, not at the witness, and now not at the prosecution table. It was clear that no matter what I did, it was wrong.
Ms. Johnson droned on with questions. “On March twenty-first, do you remember the group of hikers that came into the store with,” Ms. Johnson paused to gesture in my direction, “Mr. Harrison?”
I looked up at the mention of my name. Every eye from the jury stared directly at me. I could feel them, their gazes full of sanctimonious judgment.
“Yes,” Mr. Sok said.
“Why would you remember this particular group as opposed to others?” Ms. Johnson asked. “As you have previously stated that you don’t remember most hikers.”
“Purple hair.” He made a gesture, indicating where longer hair would hit around the bottom of his face and spoke in English, “The girl, purple hair.”
Ms. Johnson tilted her head to the side. She paused before asking, “Purple hair? Are you speaking about Miss Adler’s purple hair?”
Dawson stood. “Objection, leading the witness.”
Ms. Johnson exhaled loudly. “I’m attempting to interpret his answer, Your Honor.”
“Sustained.” The judge then addressed Mr. Sok directly, “If you need to speak in Korean, Mr. Sok, please do so. The interpreter will translate for you.”
Judge Wallis signaled for Ms. Johnson to continue.
“Do you remember anything else about them? Anything that would stand out. Their appearance? Their demeanor? Anything else that would cause you to remember them?”
