Played. Liz Fichera

Mogollon Rim for a pinecone.

      “Empty. I checked.”

      “Great,” I mumbled. “What’s the sense in having a ranger station if there’s no ranger?”

      Sam shook his head. “Off-season, I guess. Doesn’t matter now. Let’s see if you can walk.”

      With his arm around my waist, Sam pulled me to my feet. I wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pressed my lips together to muffle the shooting pain at standing up. I’d had sprains before from dance practice, but nothing like this. It felt as though a thousand needles were pressing into my back and leg. By the time I stood straight, I was gasping and unable to stop clutching Sam as if he were a life preserver.

      “This doesn’t look good,” he said, shaking his head as I balanced on my left foot, still leaning against him.

      “I’ll be okay,” I said, gasping for my next breath. “I’ll just need to take it slow. I don’t think anything’s broken.”

      Sam looked at me and then at the side of the mountain. The climb back up wasn’t completely vertical but it would still be a challenge, especially now with my injured leg. He didn’t say anything but I knew what he was thinking: it was going to take forever to get out of here.

      “I think it helps to stand,” I said, trying to stay positive. “I can do this.” I glanced at the top of the rim and nodded confidently. “I know I can.” I really didn’t want him to leave me. I was going to climb up the mountain, inch by painful inch, even if it took the rest of the weekend.

      Then the sky cracked open.

      “What the...?” I stared upward, numb. Ice-cold raindrops cooled my cheeks.

      Sam sighed. “It’s the rim. It rains in the afternoon.”

      “B-but,” I stammered. “The sky was blue a second ago.”

      Rain started to fall harder, white and blinding, almost like hail. The valley below us disappeared in the storm, as if it weren’t even there. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees, just like that.

      Sam’s arm stayed wrapped around my waist and my arm still wove around his shoulder. It was awkward but necessary, given the circumstances. The corner of his mouth twitched with obvious panic. We stared at each other, wide-eyed, at a mutual rare loss for words.

      Finally Sam said, “Let’s wait it out. Got no choice.” He had to yell over the rain. “We can’t climb out now. Too dangerous.” Raindrops clung to the ends of his bangs before spilling onto his cheeks. “Let’s sit underneath the branches. At least it’ll keep some of the rain off.”

      “But it might start lightning,” I yelled back.

      His eyes widened. “You got a better idea?”

      I shook my head. “Not at the moment.”

      We turned back toward the tree, me leaning against Sam and Sam dragging me forward. We limp-walked until we dropped in a heap beneath wispy pine branches already heavy with rain.

      “How long?” I asked.

      Sam looked up. A second ago, the sky had been a hazy gray. Now clouds raced across it, dark as ink blots. “Could be five minutes. Could be five hours. The storm’ll let us know, soon enough.”

      “That’s comforting.”

      Sam sighed. “Sometimes you can’t have everything you want.”

      “You think I don’t know that?” The rain fell harder. It landed on my face like pinpricks.

      Sam didn’t answer with a clever quip like I expected. Instead, he placed a hand on my shoulder. Despite the chaos swirling around us, his touch slowed my panicked breathing. He leaned closer to my ear and said, “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

      Thunder rumbled. Together we looked up at the unforgiving sky and squinted against the rain. “I hope so,” I said. “But what else can we do?”

      12

      Sam

      Crazy freaky spoiled white girl! What had she been thinking?

      Even worse, what had I been thinking? I should never have climbed down after her like an obedient dog.

      We’d crawled beneath the closest pine. It had thick, wide branches like a Christmas tree, but the lowest branches didn’t touch the ground. Instead of getting completely drenched, our clothes and hair only got annoyingly soggy. It didn’t bother me much but I could tell it was getting to Riley.

      She kept wincing. I knew that her leg must have ached but she didn’t moan much. That surprised me. I figured her for someone who’d be full-blown hysterical by now.

      But when her whole body began to shiver, I got scared. I knew what I needed to do but I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like it.

      “You’re shivering,” I said.

      “Telll meee something I donnn’t know,” Riley replied, her teeth chattering. She wrapped her arms around her chest.

      “Wait here,” I said.

      “Where are you going?”

      “Not far. Stay here.”

      “Where am I gonna go?”

      Ignoring her sarcasm, I ran to the tree nearest ours and gathered as many dry pine needles and pinecones as my arms could carry. I ran back and forth several times, making a fairly decent pile of dry needles beside Riley. We’d already had a nice pile under our tree, thanks to all the needles that had already dropped, but I knew we would need a lot more.

      “Can I help?” she said, but I continued to ignore her. There wasn’t time to explain. The rainstorm made sure of that. Besides, what could she do with a sprained leg?

      I remembered the folding knife in my pocket. I squeezed it. It was one of those Swiss Army kinds that did everything from slicing through cardboard to popping open bottle caps. Dad had given it to me for my thirteenth birthday, a gift that had surprised me, since Mom was always the one who bought the birthday and Christmas gifts. I couldn’t take it to school but I carried it in the front pocket of my jeans at all other times. Practical Dad. He’d told me it would come in handy when I least expected it. Said a man should always carry one. Also said his dad had given him one when he was my age, shiny silver with turquoise inlay, no longer than my forefinger, just like mine. I used it a lot at work, cutting through duct tape and boxes loaded with paper towels and pasta noodles. But today was what Dad would probably call one of those critical times. Thanks, Dad, I said to myself as I removed it from my pocket. With a flick of my thumb and forefinger, the knife opened with an easy click.

      I cut down four leafy, dry, skinny pine branches as fast as I could. I had no idea how long we’d be stranded on this ledge, but I did know we had to stay as dry as possible.

      Racing against the rain, I grabbed the branches and hauled them back to Riley. She sat beside the pine needle piles, running her fingers through them, clearly not understanding my plan. The rain continued to pound all around us.

      I dropped the branches and then dropped beside her, motioning for her to scoot to the side so that I could begin.

      “What are you doing?” Riley said.

      “Making a bed for us.”

      Riley’s eyes grew wider. “Will we be here long enough to need one?”

      “I’m guessing we might be. And we’ve got to work before there’s no light left at all.”

      “What can I do?” She grimaced as she pulled her injured leg out of the way.

      “Nothing. For now.”

      I spread the pine needles in a circle big enough for two. Then I placed the branches over the needles, weaving them top to bottom. It wouldn’t exactly be plush but it would be better