The Distance Between Lost and Found (4 page)

Despite everything, she didn't really mind being punished. Not like that. The last thing she wanted was to spend extra time with Luke and Jonah and everyone else who was making her life miserable. Home, alone, was so much safer.

But three weeks ago, Rich met with her parents. He told them he'd spoken with Luke's dad and they both thought Hallelujah had been absent from the youth group long enough. She needed to be brought back into the fold. Being with her youth group peers, under Rich's supervision, would be good for her. It would help her move past the incident.

The
incident
. That's what Rich called it. Like everything that had happened and was happening with Luke could be boiled down into that one sanitized word.

Hallelujah hates thinking about it. Everyone discussing what to do with her. And anyway, she could have told her parents that being here wouldn't help. She would have, if they'd asked her. If she'd thought they'd listen.

Or maybe she wouldn't have brought it up after all. She hasn't tried talking to her parents about everything since that long drive home. When they asked for her side of the story and she couldn't find the right words. When her dad finally threw his hands up and told her to stop making excuses, to take responsibility for her choices, and her mom kept repeating,
We'll talk about this later
. And then later didn't come, because after the lectures, after the disappointment, the humiliation of telling them the truth was just too much, and Hallelujah stayed silent.

She'd been sure that was the best choice. She'd thought, then, that things would get better. But they didn't. And now it's too late to make it right.

She hears Luke now. His voice rising above others, getting closer. It must be almost time to leave.

Hallelujah checks her backpack. She has everything she needs.

She's ready.

T
HE VANS DROP THEM OFF AT THE TRAIL HEAD BY
A
BRAMS
Creek Campground. Kids pour out, backpacks on, and assemble next to the trail marker. They're the only group there, but with more than twenty-five of them, plus about ten chaperones, their chatter is a roar.

Hallelujah isn't talking to anyone. No one tries to talk to her. She stands on the edge of the group as Jesse and one of the other chaperones count heads. She watches.

The Knoxville girls are flirting with Brad, all teeth and eyelashes and hair-flipping. Rachel is talking to one of the girls from Chattanooga, but her eyes dart over toward Hallelujah. Hallelujah looks away quickly.

She finds herself scanning the group for Jonah. He wasn't at breakfast. Which is weird. She's never known him to skip a meal. He's a bottomless pit. Or at least he used to be.

And then she spots him. With Luke. Arguing. Jonah's hands are clenched into fists. Luke's face is twisted into a sneer. She only has a second to wonder what they're fighting about before Jesse calls for the group's attention.

“Gather round, hikers,” he shouts. “As you know, today we're hiking up to Abrams Falls. Who's been there before?”

A few hands go up.

“Well, if you haven't, you're in for a treat. It's about six and a half miles up to the falls, the way we're going. When we get there, we'll eat lunch and swim a little, if the weather cooperates. Do a devotional. Then we'll head back, taking a different trail. As we hike, I encourage you to be aware of your surroundings—the majesty of these mountains, the detail of each leaf and bud, the vast scope of the entire forest. And, of course, have fun!”

Jesse pauses. Ahems at Jonah and Luke, who finally break apart. Luke walks over to Brad and the Knoxville girls, laughing like nothing's wrong. Jonah goes to the opposite side of the group. He stands alone.

“And now,” Jesse goes on, “the moment you've all been waiting for: hand over your cell phones.”

Groans. From all directions.

“You'll get them back at the end of the hike. Trust me, you don't need them out here. Talk to each other. Look at the view. You won't regret it.” He pauses, watching chaperones circulate, backpacks open. Hallelujah drops her phone into Rich's bag without hesitation. She wouldn't have anyone to call or text or email, anyway.

“I know you've all had safety rules drilled into your brains. I know you don't want to hear it anymore. So all I'll say now is: For most of this hike we'll be single file. There are a lot of us to keep track of. Learn who's in front of you and behind you. Memorize names and faces. We'll count heads every time we stop, but you'll have to help us out. The flock watches out for its own sheep. Got it?”

Nods. Mm-hmms. An overzealous “Yes, sir!” from Hallelujah's left.

“Then let's get moving!”

Jesse starts up the trail first, his plaid jacket a bright contrast to the trees. Jonah is right behind him. Hallelujah wonders how it's possible to have known Jonah well enough and long enough to be able to tell, just from the stiff set of his shoulders, that he's angry, and yet to not really know him at all. He's the same person who was her friend. Before. But he's also not that person anymore. Sometimes she feels like she made that guy up.

She shifts her pack on her shoulders. She lets Rich herd her into the line between a Knoxville boy and a Chattanooga girl, neither of whom acknowledge her. She focuses on the sensation of her hiking boots on the damp earth.

T
HE SUNLIGHT HITS THE GROUND DAPPLED, FILLED WITH
tree-branch shadows. The light patches shift and slide as the wind moves the trees. Birds call out to each other overhead. And there are other sounds—insects, maybe, or tree frogs. Sounds she can't name.

Despite growing up not too far from the mountains, Hallelujah hasn't done a lot of hiking. Now, she's realizing she likes it. The way the mountains make her feel like a tiny part of something much bigger. And the way she could take a few steps off the path and feel completely alone and apart.

They cross a narrow log bridge over Abrams Creek, and she stops for a second to take it all in. The creek rushing by just a few feet below. The trees lining the banks on both sides, their branches arcing over the water. The way the log bridge vibrates with the others' steps, leaving her slightly off-balance, clutching the railing.

“Pick up the pace, Hal.” It's Rachel. Right behind her. How long has she been there? Why is she there at all?

Rachel shrugs, answering the questions Hallelujah didn't ask out loud. “I caught up. I wanted to talk to you.” She gestures around. “Single file. On a bridge. You can't run away, unless you swim. So can we talk?”

“I guess,” Hallelujah mutters. She starts walking. Down to the bank. Up a small hill. Over a fallen tree branch. Around a series of deep, old roots.

“You used to like Luke,” Rachel states.

“Used to.”

“But you don't anymore.”

“Don't anymore.” Hallelujah feels like a parrot.

“So what'd he do to you? Did you used to date? Did he dump you?”

Hallelujah snorts. If only it were that simple. “Ask him. You two seemed cozy enough last night.”

“I don't want to ask him. I'm asking you.”

“Why do you care? Why are you even talking to me?”

“Because—” Rachel takes in a deep breath. She lowers her voice. “Because the way you're acting has me kind of freaked out. If he did something really bad . . .”

Hallelujah turns to look directly at her. “Look. He didn't rape me, if that's what you're worried about.” She says it low. To make sure no one else hears. And to keep her voice from shaking. “Beyond that—I don't want to talk about it.”

“But—”

“I don't. Want. To talk about it.”

Rachel blinks. “Fine. Whatever.” She pushes past Hallelujah, up the trail.

They hike until they reach a crossroads. They turn left. They keep hiking. They take a short break, count heads, and start walking again.

Hallelujah waits for Rich to usher her into line near the back of the pack. This time, Jonah ends up behind her. His heavy footfalls remind her of the sound of him running last night, in the dark. She remembers him half in the girls' bathroom window. His muscular legs, his hand reaching down to pull her inside. Their eyes meeting.

She thinks again about their friendship. The bond they used to have. And how it came up almost out of nowhere. They'd known each other since fourth grade, since Jonah's family moved from Virginia and joined Hallelujah's church. But even after seeing each other in Sunday school every week, joining the youth group at the same time, and sharing a few academic classes, they'd never really talked.

Until ninth-grade choir at school. That first day, she'd walked in and been surprised to see him sitting at the back of the room. He'd lifted a hand and said,
Hey
. She'd said
Hey
back. After an awkward pause, she'd added,
I didn't know you sang
. He'd shrugged. Said,
I do. Kind of. Anyway, I had to pick an Arts elective
.

The next day, they started comparing musical tastes. Hallelujah liked passionate indie-pop. Singer-songwriters wailing and whispering with acoustic guitars and keyboards. Jonah liked old-school country. Cowboy hats and pickup trucks and broken hearts. Also, classic rock. Within weeks, they were trading songs, albums, artists. Ingrid Michaelson for Johnny Cash. The soundtrack to
Once
for the Eagles' greatest hits. They made an agreement early on: they didn't have to like everything, but they had to listen to everything.

And then they were sharing more than just music. Hallelujah convinced Jonah to read the Harry Potter books for the first time. Jonah launched an action movie marathon that continued until Hallelujah couldn't watch one more Fast and Furious rip-off and countered with
Sleepless in Seattle
and
Love Actually
. They watched old episodes of
Whose Line Is It Anyway?
on Jonah's computer, because he couldn't believe Hallelujah had never seen it. Then she made him sit through her new favorite show, a musical drama about a girl moving to New York City to try to make it on Broadway.

They didn't go deeper than that. No hopes, no fears, no dreams. Definitely no talk about who liked who. She never mentioned how hard she was crushing on Luke. If Jonah liked anyone, he never told her. Because of that, their friendship was easy. Uncomplicated by personal drama.

Which is why his silence after what happened with Luke hurt so much. She'd been sure that what Jonah had seen wouldn't change what they shared. That he'd give her a chance to explain. Instead, their friendship was as done as everything else in her life.

Hallelujah is pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of moving water. She turns the corner to see the group standing beside a creek. People are drinking from canteens and stripping off outer layers. Laughing. Catching their breath.

“There you are!” Rich strides over, looking relieved. He puts one hand on Hallelujah's shoulder and the other on Jonah's. “Luke noticed you two had fallen behind. That's what we mean about keeping an eye out for each other!”

Luke joins them, smiling like a proud dad. It's gross. “Glad to help, Rich,” he says. Then he turns to Hallelujah. “Looks like you have a new sidekick.”

He means Jonah. Jonah, whose face is growing more cloudy by the second.

“Were y'all having fun back there?” Luke asks. His tone of voice is innocent, but Hallelujah knows exactly what he's getting at.

Jesse's voice rings out: “All right, everyone! Time to cross the creek. If you stay on these rocks, you'll be fine. And if you fall in—well, it's not deep, but it is wet. So be careful. We'll take a quick break on the other side before we move on.” He starts lining people up. “Brad, why don't you take Madison and Kelsey across first.”

Brad bows and Madison giggles and Kelsey pouts, looking back toward Luke like she wishes it was him, and Hallelujah wants to throw up.

They cross a few at a time, Jesse calling out names and waving his lumberjack-plaid arms around like he's conducting a symphony. Hallelujah sits on the ground and waits. She watches Rachel stumble on a wobbly, slick rock, fight for balance, save it, and strike a triumphant gymnast pose complete with cheerful smile. And then she hears it:

“Luke and Hallelujah, you're up!”

No. No way. She can't. She won't.

But Jesse is waiting. Rich is waiting. Luke is waiting. Everyone is watching. After hesitating a second longer, Hallelujah gets up, slings her backpack on, and walks over.

Luke extends his hand, a wordless
After you
.

She takes a tentative step forward onto the first rock. It shifts and slides a little under her foot. When she's steady, she takes another step. And another. She feels Luke behind her. His shadow drapes over her, casts itself on the rocks ahead.

And then she steps on a rock that doesn't stay still. It shifts down suddenly, and her other foot slides, and her arms are flailing, and her backpack is so heavy, and she's falling, and Luke is looking down at her, smiling, shaking his head, and someone is squealing, and she realizes, with a splash, that it's her.

She is sitting, chest-deep, in the creek.

A crashing and splashing to her right. A hand reaching down. Jonah. He pulls Hallelujah to her feet, and she wobbles but stays up.

Jonah turns to Luke. “What the
heck
, man?” Jonah says “heck” like someone else might say a real curse word. Barbed. Spat out.

“I tried to catch her,” Luke says, loud enough for the group to hear. He shrugs. “Guess I missed. You okay, Hallie?”

“Fine,” Hallelujah chokes out. She wades the rest of the way across, feeling the heat of everyone's eyes, wanting to cry from frustration.

Rachel meets her at the bank. Hallelujah brushes by. Rachel follows her. “Hal, are you okay?”

Hallelujah spins and growls, “Why?”