Rebel and Soul Read online

  When Maddie reaches the platform, Eagle helps her climb onto the wooden surface then signals that it’s my turn. I’ve already strapped up, so I buckle my O-ring in and begin the climb. A few minutes later, I’m making rapid progress upward. Normally, I take my time. What did Sage say this morning? Some poetic shit about how the journey, not the destination, is important.

  I couldn’t even mess with him, though, because it was the only time he sounded like himself the entire phone call. After talking to him, I need this climb.

  I recently took up a new Saturday routine. Afternoons, I head out to the forest and stay with Grandmother through the night. Saturday mornings, I call Sage.

  The doctors like to take off as much of the weekend as possible, so they schedule most of Sage’s tests and procedures on weekdays. I know that Abby visits every Sunday, so I claimed Saturday mornings.

  His first chemo treatment was pretty rough, so I spent most of our call trying to get his mind off the pain. It’s hard to find the words to describe how freaking unbelievable it feels to be suspended hundreds of feet off the ground, but I tried to make Sage feel like he was the one strapped into the harness.

  Someday, he’s going to climb this tree with me. I have to believe they’ll both survive—Sage and Grandmother—and that we’ll have a big old party together in her branches.

  For now, I’m just glad I’m not alone. If Maddie wimped out, I would be all alone tonight, trying not to think about just how crappy Sage sounded. Instead, I have this surprising girl, in her hot red dress, to distract me.

  I grasp the platform. That must have been my quickest ascent ever. I hope Eagle and Wren don’t notice, because Maddie doesn’t need to know how eager I am to be alone with her.

  An entire night in the tree together. I hope she doesn’t flip when she finds out.

  Maddie

  I CAN’T believe how far up I am. On the climb to the platform, I didn’t notice so much. I must have been on an adrenaline high. But as soon as I was unstrapped from my harness, common sense came rushing back. I hunker down in the very center of the wooden floor. Even at the center, there’s only a few feet of floor space around me.

  The platform just ends, like solid wood transforming into vacant air. No safety rails, no walls, nothing between tree and ground, except the powerful force of gravity.

  Why did I ever agree to this?

  The answer glares back at me—the unnatural gap in the tree canopy. When I’m finally brave enough to stand, I can see all the way down to the ugly stumped clearing. It must be a constant reminder to those who guard this tree.

  While I’ve been sitting here, contemplating how high up I am, the other tree sitters have gotten a different kind of high. They ignore me when passing the rolled-up smoke between them.

  The sweet, pungent smell is a stinky reminder of how far out of my element I am. I don’t belong here, in this tree, with this boy. But do I really belong anywhere?

  Andrew shattered my dreams of the fairytale life I was raised to expect. A three-thousand-square-foot house in Denver’s most prestigious suburb, a membership to the same country club my parents belong to, and my days free to volunteer for “worthy” causes. All that could be mine if I look the other way for his little transgressions.

  But my actual fairy tale has begun to write itself. Rather than a cheating fiancé and an advantageous match, I have started to imagine what falling in love would feel like. What would it be like to follow my dreams, for once?

  I try to ignore that these musings always feature a particular pierced, tattooed, sandy-haired boy. Picturing Soul as a part of my world is a stark reminder that my dreams are nothing more than outrageous fantasy.

  Soul swings himself up onto the platform. He grins at me as he unclips himself then attaches himself to another rope dangling from a series of horizontally suspended ropes. “How was the trip up, Maddie? Are you sure you haven’t done this before? You were a pro!”

  When he nears me, he glances at my harness-free body then whirls around to his friends. “Eagle, what the hell? She’s not attached to the safety.”

  “Wren and I have been doing our sits unattached. Being completely free is exhilarating, man.” Eagle pushes his greasy brown hair out of his face.

  “Try dangerous and selfish, you dumb ass!” Soul snaps.

  “Chill, Soul.” The dread-locked blonde takes another toke before blowing a ring into the air. “You choose how you squat, and we choose how we squat. It can all be perfectly harmonious.”

  “Until someone falls from the tree and the entire sit is closed down.” Soul buckles me back into my harness as he mutters, “We have to operate by the book, or we’re not going to do these trees any good. And that means no intoxicating substances.”

  He glances at the stub they were smoking. I’m glad he didn’t ask to take a smoke, too. Climbing a tree is risky enough for me. I’m not ready to venture into the illegal substances department.

  Soul snaps me onto the line that runs parallel to his. “Sorry. We’re supposed to be strapped the entire time. Nothing’s ever happened, but just in case…”

  “Don’t apologize. I might actually be able to move around a bit now.” Slowly, I stand, grasping Soul’s arm. The height still causes my stomach to sink, but I no longer feel like I could plummet to my death at any second.

  Eagle holds out his hands. “Hey, man, sorry to upset you. I just wanted—”

  “It doesn’t matter what you wanted.” Soul shakes his head. “All that matters is saving the trees. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

  Wren lugs a white bucket to the side and attaches it to a pulley. She lowers it until we hear the gentle thud of bucket meeting forest floor. “See you tomorrow,” she says before connecting her clip to the ropes and lowering herself to the ground.

  “Yeah, man, tomorrow.” Eagle follows her.

  If they’re both returning tomorrow, who’s going to be here tonight? Then it hits me. If Soul’s stuck here overnight, then I’m stuck right along with him.

  An hour later, I’m still ignoring Soul. What kind of guy keeps a girl captive, two hundred feet off the ground? Not the kind I’m interested in seeing again. I’ll just make it through the night and go on my merry way tomorrow. Alone.

  It’s easy to disregard his pitiful attempts to explain. “We never discussed time limits for challenges. You could have set ‘no overnights’ as a rule.”

  His words are meaningless. I’m still stuck in this tree.

  I open my phone to call Abby. She’s banned from making personal recommendations in the future. The tree is totally out of cell range, though. No matter in what direction I point the phone, I don’t get a signal.

  Though I can easily ignore Soul, I’m having a harder time ignoring my body’s needs. That extra morning coffee finally caught up with me, and I would swear a ten-ton weight rests right above my bladder. No matter how I wiggle or shift, I can’t get comfortable. My need is getting urgent, but I don’t want to break my expertly administered silent treatment.

  After five long, uncomfortable minutes, I give in. “Can you help me down? I need to use the bathroom.”

  The smug jerk actually grins. “You think you’ll find a bathroom in these woods?”

  “I know there’s no bathroom,” I snap. “I figured I would find a nice, private shrub.”

  Soul leans back to rest on one elbow. “I never took you for the ‘relieving yourself in the woods’ type.”

  He’s right. I’m not that type at all. I have never done my business without a clean, private stall and a flushing toilet, but there’s no way I’m going to admit that. Acting cool gives me the upper hand, and I’m grasping for control here. “I’ve learned to embrace new experiences.”

  Soul’s smile spreads. “I’m glad to hear you’re open. It’s too risky going down every time you need to p—relieve yourself. We use the white bucket over there.”

  My cool fades away. I stare at the five-gallon bucket with its tight-fitting lid. He can’t act
ually expect me to…

  Soul stands and drags a ratty shower curtain along one of the rope tracks. “For your privacy.”

  How thoughtful of the jerk. I can’t stay angry, though, not when mortification fills every pore of my body. This platform’s no bigger than a king-sized bed. He’s going to hear every sound and smell every odor.

  “Hey, nature’s call isn’t a big deal.” Soul sits next to me and rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve been coming up to this tree for a while. Dozens of people have done their business in front of me. Don’t worry.”

  The gentle pressure of his hand and the softness of his voice reassure me. No matter how angry I am, I really like Soul.

  “Can you sing?” I slowly stand and move behind the curtain. The pressure of my bladder increases with each movement.

  “Not well,” he says.

  “Please.” This whole thing feels like a test. Take the proper sorority girl into the wilds of nature and see if she can manage without flipping out. The singing is my own test, though. He has compassion for the trees. Will he care about my embarrassment and discomfort?

  “As long as you don’t laugh.” He begins to sing the refrain of a Grateful Dead song, loudly and off-key.

  I check to make sure the curtain is shut then drop my panties. I squat over the bucket and try to ignore the sound of splashing against the bucket’s bottom.

  Thankfully, Soul increases the volume of his off-tune singing.

  A minute later, I fasten the lid tightly onto the bucket. A small plastic basin sits empty, with a gallon jug of water, soap, and antibacterial gel next to it. I take a few minutes to sanitize before stepping from behind the curtain.

  “Feel better?” Soul pats the space next to him.

  I feel my cheeks warm with my nod. Usually, I never blush. Embarrassment has been bred out of me, but this boy, with his crooked grin and too-long hair, brings the unfamiliar feeling rushing back. “Thanks for making that as unhumiliating as possible.”

  “Can we call a truce?” he asks, holding out his hand.

  “How about a temporary truce, until we get out of this tree.” I take his hand and shake it. “Once we’re on firm ground again, I’m free to ream you once more.”

  Soul

  AS THE sun sinks in the sky, Maddie begins to shiver. She wraps her arms around her legs, but goose bumps spread along her exposed skin. I dig out the extra hoodie I always carry in my backpack and offer it to her. “Peace offering?”

  “Since I had no idea I’d be stuck in this tree, I…” She unfolds the gray jersey and slips it on. “Sorry. I’m trying to honor the truce. I’m just so cold.”

  I grab a couple of fleece blankets and spread them across our laps. “Yeah, the wind’s a bear up here. Sometimes, even when you don’t even notice it down below, it whips through the treetops.”

  She presses up against my right side then tucks the blankets under us. Her bare leg presses against my jean-clad leg. Exquisite torture.

  “I can’t believe you climbed up here with me.” I rest my hand on the blanket, just a space away from hers.

  “I can’t believe you come up here every Saturday.” She stares at our two hands. “How long have you been doing this?”

  “Since Sage was diagnosed.”

  “But he learned he was sick months ago, right?”

  I don’t trust myself to speak, so I nod.

  “What’s the connection? Between tree-sitting and Sage?”

  I’ve never really thought about it before. My sister raised me to be environmentally minded, and Boulder’s a hotspot of activist activity. I’ve had my pet causes since high school, but this is the most radical I’ve ever gotten. “I can’t do anything to save him. With some kinds of cancer, you can donate your bone marrow, but with brain cancer, there’s nothing I can do to help Sage.”

  “But you can save this tree.” Madison slowly moves her hand atop mine. “Tree-sitting gives you hope.”

  “Are you going to psychoanalyze me all night?” I joke.

  She laughs, but it quickly fades to a frown.

  “Hey, I was just joking.” I flip my hand, so that we’re holding hands palm-to-palm. “I never asked your major.”

  “Psychology.” She starts to move her hand away, but I entwine my fingers with hers.

  “What’s wrong with that? Helping people is admirable.”

  “My major has nothing to do with helping others.” She sighs with a long, drawn-out sound.

  She’s back—the sad, lost girl from the train. The more I get to know her, the more I recognize the signs. Her finishing-school posture sinks, as if she wants to shrink away, and she quietly withdraws into herself.

  I’m also figuring out what triggers these moments. “Your father?”

  She nods. “He chose psychology coursework so I could better understand others. My translation: learn how to manipulate people.”

  It’s one of the rare times I don’t have any words. Forced piano lessons is one thing. Lots of parents make their kids take lessons. Choosing your child’s career path is a completely different story.

  “He’s dictating your entire life?”

  “That about sums it up. He figures my actual career choice doesn’t matter, since I won’t be working.”

  “You won’t?”

  “Not if Daddy has his way. I need to focus on being a model wife—perfectly decorated home, Martha Stewart-esque dinner parties. I could go on, but you get the idea.”

  “That sounds dreadfully boring,” I say, in my most pompous voice.

  “I know,” she whispers sadly. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m just a prop in his grand campaign plan.”

  This coincidence thing is all coming together. I suspected before, but now I’m sure. My mission is to help Maddie find herself, and not only to find herself, but to fall in love with herself. That might sound hokey, but this girl’s father has made her feel like all of her thoughts and opinions are completely unimportant. People don’t recover from that easily. They need to spend time developing confidence, self-respect, and self-worth. Maddie has to believe her dreams matter. She needs freedom to explore.

  “If you could choose anything…” I run my thumb along the back of her hand. “What would you want to do?”

  “I don’t know,” she says quietly.

  “I don’t buy it. At some point, you had dreams.” I turn her slightly, so we’re still sharing the blanket but facing one another. “Think back to when you were younger. What was your dream?”

  She turns away and stares out at the ugly clear-cutting. “Journalism. I loved to write, and the investigative aspect always sounded exciting.”

  “Tell me more.” We’re finally getting somewhere.

  “It’s stupid.” She methodically rubs her fingernails. “But I would envision my name in the byline of a newspaper.” Her eyes light up. “Seeing your name in print for the first time must be amazing.”

  I need to encourage her since she doesn’t have anyone else in her life who does.

  Maddie’s story makes me appreciate what I have, instead of what I’ve lost. My sister has always supported my path, even when it led to stupid shit, like me sitting in this tree every weekend.

  “Why don’t you give it a try? CU has a sweet newspaper,” I suggest.

  “My father would kill me. Not literally, but you know what I mean.”

  “‘Politician’s Daughter Exposes the Truth behind Lobbyists,’” I joke. “I can see the conflict.”

  “I know it wouldn’t work.” She shakes her head. “But I’m so mad! Why should I give up my dreams in order to fulfill his?”

  Yes! I refrain from doing a fist pump. She’s finally getting it. “Yeah, aren’t parents supposed to be selfless?”

  I act like I know what I’m talking about, but I can barely remember my parents. My sister, though… well, she gave up everything to keep me out of the system. She was only twenty when she took me in. I’m a year older than she was, and I can’t imagine being responsible for a child
.

  “He doesn’t think it’s a sacrifice because I’m not supposed to have a career.” She cringes. “If I do as I’m told, I’ll marry Andrew and stay at home.”

  “You haven’t changed your mind about Andrew, right?” Please, don’t let this beautiful girl go back to that asshole.

  “I’ll never take him back.”

  I shrug. “If you’re already defying your dad, why not try out the journalism thing?”

  “What would I even write about? No one cares about the latest sorority bash.”

  You can say that again. “What do you want to write about it? If your dad’s rep didn’t factor in?”

  If I ever meet her father, I’m going to have trouble biting my tongue. I’ve only known Maddie for a week, but it’s obvious how much her dad’s messed her up.

  She watches the sun sink behind the tree line. This is my favorite time of day up here. The daytime critters have all quieted, but the nocturnal creatures aren’t out yet. Sometimes, for this half hour, I feel like I’m the only living creature left.

  “I’d write exposés.” She points to the clear-cutting. “Look at how the beauty of the sunset is marred by ugly human destruction. If more people knew, more people would care.”

  Thankfully, she’s busy watching the sunset, so she doesn’t notice me gaping at her. Hidden deep inside the sorority-girl exterior may be my dream girl. Maddie gets it.

  Lots of people squat in this tree. Some are radical anarchists, ready to protest nearly everything. Others come here because it’s hip. Participating in a tree-sit fits on a hippie resume right along with dreadlocks and attending a Dead reunion show.

  But Maddie talks as though she’s genuinely sad over the trees’ destruction. She cares. I’ve always been turned on by compassion. Combined with glimpses of her red-hot dress, I give up any lingering resistance.

  I draw her close and lower my lips to hers.

  Maddie