Fishing In Fire, page 6
“Yeah, I know you’re very focused,” Yumi said. Focused on Swann. But the guy looked so happy. Smiling like an idiot. And people had been really crappy to Kelton. Even she and Hunter hadn’t been very good friends with him through the last couple of years. It was good for him to be close to someone, to have friends and a girlfriend.
Why couldn’t she ever have anyone? What was so bad about her? Yumi went back toward the bridge, and for just a moment thought about returning to fish with Hunter and Annette, but they were sitting kind of close, and finally talking. About what? Yumi had no idea. But she didn’t want to interrupt. At least not very much.
“Hey, you two, I’m going to head back,” Yumi said. Annette and Hunter hadn’t heard her as she approached. When neither of them responded to her, she spoke again. “Annette, I’m heading back.”
Annette sat up straight. “What? Back where?”
“Don’t be crazy, Yumi,” Hunter said. “You can’t go by yourself.”
“Relax, Higgins,” she said. “It’s not like your winter avalanche nightmare. The trail was pretty clear the whole way here. I can find Painted Pond. From there, no problem.”
“Yeah, but it’s so far,” Annette said. “Are you not having fun?”
Oh no. If Annette started to make a big hurt deal out of this, she’d never get away, and the two of them would be talking about this for weeks. She had to handle this just right. “You kidding me? I’ve caught two sweet trout! Don’t think this is the last time we’re doing this. Our fishing team will return. I just need to help my mom with some stuff at the store. I didn’t think we’d be out this long. Of course, none of us knew there would already be people at Painted Pond.”
Hunter frowned and grabbed the handrail in a sunny spot to pull himself up, only to jerk his arm back in surprise. “Darn it! Hot!” He started to rise again. “Yumi, you really shouldn’t go through the woods by yourself. You never know—”
“Higgins, I think that wolf has gone to your head,” Yumi shot back. “You aren’t the only one who can handle the wilderness. I’ll be fine. Seriously.”
“Are you sure?” Annette said.
“Ann.” Yumi put her hands on her hips. “You fish. I’m going. Goodbye.”
Without another word, she set off at a fast pace, not running, but seriously moving. In her head, she didn’t want to deal with the two couples anymore. But a part of her, a bigger part than she would have ever admitted, even to herself, was more than a little disappointed that her friends didn’t try harder to make her stay.
CHAPTER 6
Annette watched her best friend hurry away until she vanished through a stand of dense shrubs and pine trees. “Is she really going to be OK?”
“She was driving the snowmobile when you two came up Storm Mountain to save us, right?” Hunter asked. He pushed a strand of his hair out of his face.
“Yeah, she was driving.” The heat had to be up into the nineties by now, or else very close. It was the opposite of that scary snowy day.
“See?” Hunter gently bumped her with his shoulder. “She knows what she’s doing. Yumi’s tough.”
Annette laughed. Why had he bumped her? What did that mean? That was flirting, right? And that meant what Yumi’d said was true and he really did like her, right? Then what? She couldn’t just tell him that she liked him. Dad had joked once about how when he was in school back in the 1900s, he had written a paper note to a girl that said something like, I like you. Do you like me? Circle YES or NO. It wasn’t like that now. Her father barely even had internet when he was a little kid. This was the twenty-first century. And that meant . . . she had no idea. About anything.
Or was she overthinking everything again? Worrying too much? This was Hunter, after all. They’d talked so much when taking a break from hunting outside his family’s lodge last fall. He was a good guy. Just talk to him! “Did I ever tell you how cool I think it is that you two cousins are so close?”
“Hmm,” Hunter said. “Once or twice. I know she thinks you’re awesome.” He touched his nose nervously. “I’d say she’s right.”
It was the cheesiest line she’d ever heard a boy say to anyone in real life. It would be cheesy for a Disney teen drama show. But she could tell that he’d worked on it for quite a while, so it wouldn’t do to laugh at him. “Oh, that’s so sweet.”
“You know,” Hunter said, “now that we’re alone, I wanted to tell—”
“I got one!” Kelton shouted from behind them on the big rock.
Now Annette did laugh. Hunter’s timing was terrible.
“Well, almost alone,” Hunter said. “I wanted to talk to you about the dance last night. I know I didn’t get the chance to talk to you, er, you know, because I was going to ask you to dance. If you wanted, I mean. But, see, I was going to ask you, but then—”
Annette’s line jerked and her rod bent. An instant later, so did Hunter’s.
Why? A slow biting day, and we hardly talk that whole time. Then, as soon as Hunter’s about to say something, we both get a bite? “Two at a time!” Annette said.
“It’s not possible that we both caught the same one, is it?” Hunter asked. “I mean, the bites came at almost the exact same moment.”
As if in answer to his question, two separate scrambling splashes broke the surface. Annette’s rod bent more, curved way down. “I must have a big one!”
“It’s gonna bust your pole,” Hunter said. “Can you bring that in?”
“Yeah, I got it,” Annette snapped. The doubt in his voice was annoying, like he didn’t think she knew what she was doing. She’d fished so much more than him. “He’s got some fight in him. Going to work him, wear him down.” She let out some line, reeled some in, trying to exhaust him.
Hunter fought for his fish too. “It’s not that. Just that I think you’ve snagged a real big one. I’m gonna cut mine loose, help you with yours.”
“Hunter, no!” Annette shouted. “The bet! We need them both. Anyway, there’s not much you can do to help me.”
“I’ll grab the line, help you bring it in.”
Annette released some line. When she pulled her rod back, she felt some tension slackening. “Hunter, if you do that, I’ll lose the natural variable resistance, all the give-and-take in my arms and in the rod. You’ll make it more likely the line will break.”
“Right.” Hunter worked his fish. “So, we’re on our own.”
Annette smiled at him. “Just with the fishing.” Where did that come from? The fish gave a hard tug. She loved this part, the thrill of it, the excitement, wondering if she’d succeed or if the fish would get away. “Come on, buddy,” she said to the fish. “You can’t get away. I’ve got you.”
Hunter hauled his fish up, a solid trout. He pulled the hook out and tried to set the fish down on the wood planks of the bridge, but the slippery fish flipped about. Hunter looked ridiculous, reaching for the scale with one hand and making an effort to control his fish with the other, but in the next instant, the fished flopped right off the bridge and splashed down to the water below. He held up shaking fists. “Curse you, Mr. Fish!”
Annette laughed. “No, don’t make me laugh. This is hard enough. It’s too big to just pull up.” It was a struggle, but Annette managed to keep control of the rod while making it off the bridge to the riverbank. There, she hauled the fish in, slipped a couple of fingers into its gills, and yanked it out of the water. “Oh wow!” Annette couldn’t contain her excitement. “Look at this thing!” She held it in both hands. With Hunter’s help, she soon had it on the scale. Twelve pounds!
“Annette!” Swann shouted from over on her rock as Annette showed off her catch. “This is the biggest one yet! The others won’t catch anything like this! You might have won it for us!”
Hunter took a picture before she lowered the fish back toward the river. She looked at the huge fish before she dropped it into the water with a satisfying splash. The biggest she’d ever caught. Incredible. She watched the fish hurry off through the clear river water before she and Hunter exchanged smiles. She was breathing heavy, her heart pounding.
Once, a few years ago, Annette had heard someone blathering at school about how fishing was just a lot of waiting around. But if that guy had felt this excitement and surge of adrenaline, from the first nibble to the capture of the biggest, toughest fish, he’d know what real fun, what a real rush, this sport could be.
Annette closed her eyes and lay back across the footbridge, resting in the hot sun. A shadow fell across her. She opened her eyes, squinting up at Swann, who stood smiling down at her.
“It seems like such a waste to catch these fish, just to let them go.”
“Well, if we had brought some buckets or a cooler, we could take some back,” Annette said.
“Do you really know how to, like, turn the fish from a swimming creature into a fillet to eat?” Swann asked.
Annette sat up and opened her eyes, blinking in the brightness. “I’ve always cleaned the fish with my dad, but I could probably do it on my own.”
Swann and Kelton sat down on the bridge. Swann sighed. “It would be so awesome to just catch a meal right out of the river.”
Annette loved fish, especially a popping-hot fried fish she’d caught herself. “My favorite fish to eat is walleye, but they bite better in the winter, taste better in winter too. It has to do with the kind of food they’re eating.” Annette smiled with a memory. “Once my dad nearly brought in a walleye, had to be at least nineteen pounds.”
“Nineteen pounds of fish?” Swann said. “That’s enormous!”
“Would have made for several great meals,” Annette said.
Annette offered a round of sodas, and with them, the group had another snack break. “We really should have planned this better,” Annette said. “Brought a whole picnic.”
“Yumi’s dad has a bunch of Army field rations, the MREs?” Hunter said. “We take them hunting and camping. They’re pretty good when you figure they’re shelf-stable and don’t have to be cooked.”
“My mom’s ex-boyfriend Steve used to talk about all the great things he would have done in the Army if he had joined. He bought some of those things once. Mine wasn’t that great,” Kelton said. “But what’s the deal with Yumi? She just took off? Did we make her mad somehow?” He lowered his gaze. “I guess maybe we weren’t talking to her a super-lot over on the boulder.”
Swann patted Kelton’s arm. “True, but she could have talked to us too. It’s like those memes online that talk about how you might feel bad when you haven’t texted or contacted your friends, but then you realize the internet works two ways and nobody has contacted you either.”
“I don’t think you offended her,” Hunter said. “Yumi’s just direct. Sometimes people mistake her honesty for her being angry or mean. She’ll be fine. I can tell.”
“You two are amazing,” Swann said. “The way you’re so close? I’m not even like that with anybody. I guess I’m close with my parents, closer now after the snowmobile disaster, but it’s different with parents, you know? Things change when you’re twelve or so.”
Annette barely ever had the chance to talk to her parents. Dad worked long hours at the printing company down in Boise. Mom worked at McCall City Hall. Even when they were home, they were tired, plus they had to deal with her sister and three brothers. “Yeah, being out with friends is way different than being with family.” She sipped her soda.
“But Hunter and Yumi are both,” Swann said, sounding impressed.
“It’s not that weird, is it?” Hunter said. “We’re about the same age, same grade in school. We’ve grown up together, so we’ve always played together or hung out at family Thanksgiving and Christmas. My mom would babysit her. Her mom would babysit me. A lot of growing up together.” Hunter smiled. “Like the first time either of us went fishing, first fish I ever caught. This tiny little one, half the length of a dollar bill. But I was scared to touch it.”
“Aww, that’s so cute,” Annette said without thinking. But if she’d embarrassed Hunter, he didn’t show it and merely smiled.
“It was slippery and flopping around. I was too scared to touch it, almost going to cry.”
Kelton laughed a little. “Dude, seriously?”
Hunter frowned. “Cut me some slack, Kel. I was maybe five years old. But Yumi picked it right up, and even though she said it was yucky or something, she brought it close to her face and started opening and closing her mouth, making a fish face. My dad, Grandpa, and Uncle Rick laughed and laughed.” He ripped a strip of beef jerky in half with his teeth and talked with his mouth full. “Grandpa tells that story about every time we go fishing.” Hunter paused for a moment, chewing and swallowing his jerky. “Yeah, me and Yumi are friends. She’s awesome.”
“It’s too bad she left,” Swann said. Nobody said anything for a long moment. The river gurgled around the rocks below. Kelton crunched a chip. The pines swayed in a wave of strong wind. Hunter slurped a drink of soda. “Thanks for this, you guys.” Swann held up her soda in salute.
Annette frowned. “It’s just the cheap, generic kind of soda. My parents buy it by the case, and my brothers—”
“Oh, I didn’t mean thanks for the soda,” Swann said. “Thanks for that, but also, thanks for this trip.”
“Fishing is fun.” A strong breeze blew Annette’s hair in her face and she pushed it out of the way. “Could do without this wind, though.”
“Yes, but I mean . . .” Swann was struggling to find the right words, looking uncharacteristically unsure of herself. She continued, “I mean for helping me feel like I belong. For being nice to me.”
Was this really happening? How could a girl as rich, beautiful, talented, and sophisticated as Swann ever feel like she didn’t belong? As soon as Swann had arrived in McCall, almost all the girls changed their hairstyle and clothes to imitate whatever Swann did. Almost all the guys had crushes on her, acting completely stupid whenever she was around. Annette’s locker wasn’t far from Swann’s, and she’d seen all the notes Swann had been given.
Annette smiled. How could a girl like Swann be grateful for the company of a girl like Annette? But then she thought of the war. It had been bad enough for Annette, with people posting crudely Photoshopped pictures of her and saying all kinds of cruel things online, and all Annette had done was point out how both sides had been mean and how everybody would be better off if a truce were called. Swann had been one of the main targets.
“But besides that group back at Painted Pond, everybody likes you, Swann,” said Kelton. “I mean, you were on the cover of People magazine! That’s so cool.”
Swann frowned at him. She looked more bothered by what Kelton had said than when they’d discovered McKenzie’s crew had beaten them to their fishing spot.
“I was on the magazine because of my parents. A lot of people want to talk to me because my parents are in movies,” Swann said. “They’ll come up to me and shout, ‘Sliding into destiny,’ or ‘Things are heating up out here in the snow,’ from Snowtastrophe III, or—”
“I think the ‘Things are heating up’ line is from Snowtastrophe II,” Hunter interrupted.
Swann closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “My point is, none of that is me. People think they want to be with me, but they’re just excited about famous stuff or whatever. They don’t want to spend time with me or get to know me.” She gestured around them. “That’s why I love the woods. Nobody asking for my autograph out here.”
“Swann?” Kelton said. “Can I have your auto—”
“I will push you off this bridge,” Swann said. “I’m trying to be serious. Thanks for, you know, being with me.”
Annette cast her lure out into the river. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say. One of the best things about fishing is getting away from the world. Just us, nature, and the challenge of catching fish.”
They all went back to fishing from the bridge for a while.
the fire was a large living thing, like an animal, breathing with a sinister hiss as it stalked through the woods. And the creature was hungry. It had a taste for the dry pine cones and needles, for twigs and branches that had snapped off under the winter’s heavy snow and then dried all through the rainless summer. But the monster was never satiated. The more it consumed, the more it wanted, needed to consume.
The wind blew hard, and the fire rushed ahead, flying in white-hot flares of destruction. Tree limbs crackled and crunched as it bit down in flame. A fallen tree trunk exploded in the heat, sending hot chunks of wood flying out into new dry places where the fire could spawn and spread out until it all united. Flames raced up standing trunks almost as fast as water would have rushed down them. Only there was no water. Day after day, week after week, the blazing-hot sun had shone down from cloudless skies that now hung heavy and brown every day. The sun shined through, an angry red orb, matching the orange flames.
The ring of fire spread along the forest floor faster and faster in the wind. It neared a trash bag that had blown out of the back of a passing pickup that winter. The bag swelled, melted, bubbled, and burned in an instant, newspaper, a cardboard milk carton, and Christmas wrapping paper blackened at the edges, flames dancing over them. And when the wind blew, the burning papers rose and scattered, some flying up over the shrubs, over the hill to dry undergrowth on the other side. Some burning papers lodged in the needles of the pines overhead. The greener needles took longer to ignite, giving up their last moisture in sizzling protest. But it was a hot day, hotter near the fire, and so very dry. At last small fireballs burst up in the branches, the flames crackling and scrambling higher and higher in the trees. Burning chunks of wood fell to the ground below and the fire grew and grew.
An old enormous pine at the top of the hill, its trunk three feet thick, had finally succumbed to the endless onslaught of the wood beetles and died last spring. Winter winds had pushed it into a precarious lean. When the flames found its delicious dry bark and half of the trunk exposed with no protection, they blazed fiercely, devouring the tree so that it quickly flared like a colossal match head, and minutes later finally gave up the struggle to stand. When the burning tree slammed into the ground with a crackling crunch, fire burst out in a circle all around it.
