Page 33 of Furious

The afternoon after the barbecue, CJ, James, and I drive half an hour north of Dell’s Hollow, winding along narrow mountain roads until we’re deep in the Appalachians. James parks his secondhand Subaru wagon (a beast of a car passed down to him after being owned by his two older brothers, which means it’s covered in stickers and smells weirdly like fast food and sports gear) in a tiny lot beside a metal trestle bridge that crosses the Greenway River. We all pile out and gaze at the river. Sunlight glints off the water, a wide, moss-colored liquid ribbon that runs out of the Appalachian Mountains and curves around Dell’s Hollow. There are no major rapids on our local stretch, and today the water moves sluggishly. Cicadas hum, and though a breeze ruffles the dense foliage along the river’s bank, the humidity is like a wall.

“I cannot wait to get in the water,” CJ says, as they slather sunscreen on their face for the second time in half an hour.

“Don’t wait,” James says, grabbing CJ’s hand. “Race you to the river!”

The sunscreen tube falls to the ground as the two of them dash toward the water, splashing through the shallows and then diving under. Picking up the sunscreen, I stay near CJ’s car, looking down the road for El, who should be here by now. A bead of sweat rolls along my collarbone. Today, I’m river-ready in a racerback bikini top and jean shorts, slathered with sunscreen as CJ insisted, and wearing old Tevas that I borrowed from Grandma Jolene’s closet. When I’d asked El the night before if she knew any good local things I could do with CJ and James, who were staying the entire weekend after the BBQ, she’d insisted we go floating with her and Zaynah.

“Floating, like down the river?” I’d asked, skeptical. “You mean in like rubber donut tubes?”

“It’s amazing, trust me,” El had said. “Max and I used to do it all the time, and it’s really fun and chill.”

Hard to argue with that reasoning, and besides, if it meant more of my friends hanging out with El and her best friend, I was in. The plan was to have El and Zaynah drive separately and leave Zaynah’s car a few miles down the river, so we had a way back to the bridge after the float, where James’s car and El’s car would be. El and Zaynah were bringing all the inner tubes, and they were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.

What am I going to do with CJ and James if El doesn’t show up? Of course, why wouldn’t El show up? We’d snuck in a goodbye kiss last night after the BBQ, but what if—

Just as CJ tries to dunk James under the water, El pulls up in the Oatmobile. She and Zaynah have the windows down and are blasting music. My heart does a little flip as El waves at me.

“Sorry we’re late!” she says breathlessly as she parks the van beside James’s car. “We had to get more tubes because one of ours had a hole in it, so we stopped at a friend’s house on the way. But we found five!” She opens the side door of the van and several inner tubes tumble out.

My hand darts out to catch one as it rolls toward me. “Thanks for bringing these.”

“Of course,” El says. “It’s going to be great. C’mon.”

They’re both in their suits, El in a bikini top and board shorts, and Zaynah in a burkini with a hood, carrying a drybag apiece with drinks and snacks inside, as planned.

I want to linger, maybe sneak a kiss in beside the van with El as Zaynah moves toward the river, but El’s already turned away, backpack on her shoulders, and gathering tubes. Looping my arm through an inner tube, I follow her toward the riverbank.

After several failed attempts at everyone getting into their tubes, and CJ and James screeching as they flipped on the first tiny set of rapids, we finally manage to get our tubes floating down the river. A lazy, hazy sort of peace settles over me as I trail my fingers through the warm water. Frogs croak from the banks, crows screech from the treetops above us, and CJ, James, and Zaynah belt out show tunes. It’s peaceful, and I close my eyes, letting sunlight wash over my face.

A soft bump on my right side startles me. My eyes fly open, but it’s just El, holding out a Coke can. “It’s pretty, isn’t it,” she says, nodding at the river and the general landscape.

It really, really is, and seeing it via inner tube, at this pace, makes me appreciate Dell’s Hollow and this area that much more. El grabs my tube with one hand, and we float side by side in companionable silence for several minutes as the river bends and gets even broader. My eyes drift over the tree line, watching a hawk soar overhead. On our right, a tree-covered stone bluff rises along one side of the river. It’s covered in thick tangles of branches that jut over the water. A rope swing dangles from one of the branches, and a narrow, well-worn path snakes up from the riverbank, disappearing into the trees. There’s a pile of beer cans and a picnic table along the bank as well.

“What’s that?” I say, pointing at the rope swing.

El glances upward. “There’s a super-deep pool—at least ten feet—in the water over there. Max was famous for once doing a double backflip from that rope.”

“Is it safe?”

El shrugs. “I’ve never done it, but no one’s ever gotten hurt on it, at least not that I know of.”

I track the way the swing moves in the breeze, as our tubes float near the bank. With the bluff and the trees, it’s at least as high as a two-story house up there, but it looks fun. Dangerous, yes, but also exhilarating. The thought of jumping off it sends a spike of adrenaline laced with fear through me.

There’s a certain feeling that I’m always chasing.

If my goal is to be a race car driver again—which it is, at least according to the F1 Academy form in my bag back in James’s car—then I have to face my fears. Confront them head-on. Keep moving fast enough so they can’t catch up. Which, in this moment, means jumping off the damn rope swing.

“I’m gonna do it,” I say as I gently unhook El’s fingers from my tube. I start paddling with my hands toward the shore.

“Jo! Wait!” El calls.

But I’m already slipping out of my tube to haul it onto the riverbank. My sandals sink into the muddy bank. “Come with me?”

El swims out of her own tube and sloshes after me. She hollers to CJ, James, and Zaynah, who are farther down the water. They head toward the bank and walk back upriver to join us beside the picnic table.

“I reserve the right not to jump,” El says as we pile our tubes on the picnic table and start up the path to the swing.

I shoot El a look and thread her fingers through mine, giving them an encouraging squeeze. Of course, it’s fine if she doesn’t want to jump. This is about my fears, not El’s. And having some fun. And maybe, perhaps just a little bit showing off for El.