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I wish I could report the clouds parting and a rainbow of understanding shining down on me, but no, two weeks later, I’m as confused as I was before. I do know that I hate having people mad at me though, and Malone’s cold-shouldering me gets to be too much to take, so one night, I drive to the Asheville Climbing Center, where she works. Just the sight of those walls with their tiny handholds is enough to make my stomach do somersaults. I find Malone at the base of the expert wall with a group of college-y-looking guys in a semicircle in front of her. Kate’s wearing black soccer shorts and an employee shirt with the sleeves cut off. She looks absolutely badass.
“I can’t,” she’s saying to one of the guys. “I’m not allowed to climb during work hours.”
He says, “Come on, I’ll even make it easier for you. I put up ten bucks and you put up nothing. Just race me.”
“Like I said—”
He snorts and says to the guy next to him, “I knew it was all talk. No girl’s that good.”
If he’s trying to push Malone’s buttons, he’s picked the right one. Without a word, she clips onto the wall and motions for a coworker, another girl who looks like she could snap me in half. Once the guy clips in, he and Malone stand waiting at the base of the wall.
“Want a head start?” he says.
Malone ignores him and asks the worker for a quick countdown.
At zero, Malone is gone, a spider monkey climbing the wall. Her legs and arms flash this way and that as she rockets toward the ceiling. It takes her less than twenty seconds to climb fifty feet, and when she reaches the top, she clangs the cowbell at the ceiling’s base. Then Malone pushes off the wall and drops down, rappelling past the poor bastard who isn’t even three-quarters of the way up.
As she unclips, she tells the guys, “Have your friend give Mia my ten bucks when he gets down. Whenever that is.”
The girl who spotted Malone gives her a high five and says, “You’re so hot.”
“Thanks, Mia,” Malone says. “I’ll see you later.”
I follow Malone as she walks to another area of the building. She’s not even breathing heavy.
“That was amazing,” I say.
“I shouldn’t have let them get to me like that. But whatever,” she says. “So why are you here? Looking to lecture me again?”
“No, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have said anything about Libby.”
“But you still think I shouldn’t have done that to her?”
“Honestly?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t know.”
I tell her about what Watson said about revenge and justice and how I feel like we’re confusing the two in our pursuit of exposing the Chaos Club.
“So what if we are?” Malone says. “That’s not your problem. If Adleta wants to puke on Stranko and his dad, and I want Libby dead for what she did to me, then that’s on our consciences, not yours. I totally wish I could just forget what she did to me, let it go and pretend like it’s no big deal, but I can’t.”
“I get it,” I say. “I just wanted to say I was sorry. I was an idiot. I’ll mind my business next time.”
Malone softens, and her eyes drop for a second while she works something out.
“Well, since you didn’t mind your business, I’ll be guilty of it too,” she says. “Ellie told me about you two at the radar dish.”
My cheeks get so hot, my head may burst into flames.
“Don’t get embarrassed,” she says. “I totally get it. Ellie’s cute and cool. You’d be crazy not to try to kiss her.”
I don’t say anything because: (A) I don’t know how to respond, and (B) I’m hoping if I focus hard enough, I’ll teleport to another planet.
“But, look, here’s the thing—and I feel like a bitch saying this, but you’re a good guy—I think you need to be careful around Ellie.”
“What?”
“It’s just…look, I like Ellie, I really do. She’s really nice, like scary nice, but I’ve heard things about her, Max. Like maybe she’s not as nice as she makes herself out to be.”
“What have you heard?”
“Rumors mostly.”
“About what?”
“That she lies, Max. All the time. I admit I haven’t witnessed that, but I don’t know, I can see it somehow. She’s so good at acting. We’ve seen that firsthand. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. She blew me off.”
“Maybe that’s for the best.”
Getting rejected is “for the best”?
Yeah right.
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At home, I do two things:
First, I delete the naked picture of Malone from my phone. It’s something I should’ve done months ago. But before you give me the Good Guy Award, know that my finger hovered over the Delete Photo button for a good two minutes. Still, I did push it.