out, laughing, onto the grass.
Amy lay back in the sunshine, complaining about blisters on her feet. So I got out the first-aid kit. Dad always insisted I take it in my backpack, even on a short hike, and that day I was glad. I stuck Band-Aids on Amyâs blisters. My feet were sore too, so I stuck a few Band-Aids on the worst blisters.
We each gobbled down a bagel and a chocolate bar. We saved the trail mix for later. Amy lay back again and closed her eyes. I pulled my sketchbook from my pack and flipped it open. But my eyelids were heavy and the sun shone warm on my face. My head drooped.
I heard a gasp. My head jerked up. Amy sat beside me, staring at my sketchbook, her eyes huge, her face white as death.
I looked down. There was my drawing of Amy being strangled.
The Brat
was printed in big letters and the sentence underneath said:
Iâm telling you Sara, itâs either Amy or me. One of us has got to go!
Her eyes turned to my face. âYou want to get rid of me!â she whispered.
âNo, Amy, of course not! I was just, you know, mad at you when I wrote that yesterday. You ruined my hike with Dad.â
âSo, are you planning to leave me up here?â
âYeah, right, Amy. Iâm going to take off and leave you to the bears.â
She jumped to her feet and picked up her knapsack. Her eyes went all watery, like she was going to cry.
âListen, Amy, if I wanted to get rid of you, why would I have helped you up the cliff? You said yourself that I saved your life.â
She looked uncertain.
âBesides,â I grinned, âyouâre not nearly as bad as I thought you were.â
âThanks heaps,â she said and grinned back at me.
I glanced at my watch. âItâs getting late. We need to get moving.â
Amy groaned.
chapter ten
We had no trouble wading back through the slow moving part of the river. The cold water felt good on our sore feet.
But soon the river began to spill over rocks as it twisted its way down the mountainside. We had to start crossing back and forth again. After a whole day of it, jumping from rock to rock gets very hard on the legs. Mine were tired and aching, so I knewhow Amy must feel. And the blisters didnât help either.
Amy dragged her feet as if they were made of lead. But she didnât complain, not once. When we got back to the bear dropping, she stepped over it like it wasnât even there.
The shadows of the tall evergreens crept across the river. I knew then that we should have turned back a lot earlier, but I hadnât counted on Amy being so tired. The air had cooled down quickly and we stopped to put on our jackets.
Amy jumped onto a flat rock in the middle of the river. All at once her legs gave out under her. She stumbled and fell sideways.
âYou okay?â I called.
She sat up. âI need a rest,â she begged. âJust a few minutes. Please?â
I shook my head. I knew her leg muscles would seize up if she rested now, so I had to keep her moving.
âItâs getting late,â I said. âWeâve got to get down the mountain before dark.â
âI donât care.â She whined, then caught herself. She looked up at me shyly, âIâm so tired.â
Her shoes were wet, her jeans were soaked from the knees down, her hair was a tangled mess and that stupid scrunchy still clung crookedly on top. She looked so pathetic I almost gave in but I didnât dare. âYou do realize that bears usually come down to the river at dusk?â I asked.
She made a sad little noise in her throat and pushed herself up. âOkay, you win. Iâm coming.â
We stopped above the small waterfall where Amy had easily jumped across earlier. Water rushed through a narrow gorge between two large rocks. The rock on the far side was so steep it would not be easy to land on, but we had no choice.
âI canât do it!â Amy said. âIâm too tired.â
âOf