It was a waste to stay inside on a day like this. I grabbed my cane and stepped onto the back porch. I stood on the top step for a long moment, shielding my eyes from the sunlight with my free hand. I wished I could’ve worn sunglasses, but I’d never found a pair that wasn’t too dark for me to see through. Too much light was easier on my eyes than too little.
I wasn’t even sure what to do now. Christy would tell me to lay out and get a tan while I still could, but my skin just burned and peeled anytime I was in the sun too long. Mursey was pretty rural, so there was nowhere to go besides the old woods behind the house. And Mama had always made me stay out of those woods. She said all the trails were grown over and it was too easy to get lost.
It was an old rule. One she’d made when Gracie and me were in elementary school and liked to play pretend in the backyard. Gracie was always the princess, and I was always the servant girl. If Mama hadn’t warned us, I’m sure my sister would’ve sent me out into the woods to fetch her something she needed to save the castle, better known as our garage.
But today, staring out at the trees, that old rule seemed awful silly. I was sixteen now, and I could walk in the woods if I wanted. Didn’t matter that there was nothing back there but deer stands and old dirt-bike trails. If I couldn’t go to Lexington, get out of Mursey, I could at least get out of the house. Mama couldn’t be too mad about that.
And … I never had to tell her.
It was that thought that propelled me, cane in hand, down the back porch steps and out toward the woods. Under the cover of trees, my eyes adjusted a bit. My depth perception was still off and all the greens and browns bled together, but I was able to get my bearings and make out more than I had before. I managed to navigate through the thick brambles and high grass until I found one of the old paths that wasn’t too overgrown yet. It was wide, like it had been used for four-wheelers before. I moved along slowly, swishing my cane back and forth, making sure not to trip over any tree roots.
Around me, I could hear all sorts of birdcalls. In the distance, a woodpecker was hammering away at a tree. Squirrels squeaked and bees buzzed around wildflowers so bright even I could see them. And not too far off, I heard twigs cracking beneath feet that were too small and fast to be human. The smell of grass and bark and dirt filled my nose and I inhaled it, glad for the fresh air. Nothing about the woods was unexpected—I knew what I’d find back here—I just didn’t realize how peaceful or nice it would be.
I followed the trail for a while until it split into two narrower paths. I picked one at random and followed it until it split, too. I didn’t think much about which way I was going. I was too taken with all the sounds and smells. I’d never really thought of myself as an outdoorsy person, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was something to all those poems Mrs. Hartman made us read about the beauty of nature. I couldn’t see much of it, but I could experience it. I ran my hands along tree trunks and smelled all kinds of flowers, wandering my way down the different trails until, all of a sudden, the sun hit my eyes again, and I found myself in the middle of a large, grassy clearing.
The grass was unkempt, nearly up to my knees. I laughed and spun around in it for a minute, like a little girl in a movie, my hair swept up in the wind. It was silly, I guess. But I felt free. Like a dog who broke its chain. I was only in the woods behind my house. It was a small rebellion against a rule that hadn’t been spoken in years. But it still felt good. Maybe better than it should’ve. So I spun and spun until I was so dizzy I could hardly stand up.
But then something dawned on me.
“Oh no,” I muttered, blinking at the woods around me. Several paths fed into this clearing, and after spinning around like an idiot, I’d lost which one I’d come in on. And even if I found it, I’d forgotten which paths I’d taken to get there.
And, of course, I’d forgotten my phone. It might not have helped much—Mursey had awful cell phone reception, and most people in town couldn’t afford a cell phone anyway. My parents had bought me one for emergencies. Which seemed like a waste of money to me. I was always at home or with them. I’d never needed it.
But maybe I needed it now.
Because just like Mama had predicted all those years ago, I was lost.
My small rebellion didn’t feel so good anymore.
I was still trying to decide which path to take back when I heard a shout and something coming up—fast—behind me. I turned just in time to see a huge gray blur speeding toward me. I didn’t even have time to scream before it was on top of me, knocking me down and pinning me to the ground with its big paws. I yelped as a slobbery tongue began to lap at my cheeks.
“Utah!” a girl’s voice hollered. “Utah, get back here. Bad dog!”
The monster, which I now realized was a dog, backed off me with a whine and hurried back to its owner.
“You all right?” the girl asked.
I sat up, wiping doggy drool off my face. “I think so.”