Chapter 24 Three Years Before
3 years before Penny
The course only gets tougher the deeper we go. The air is damp with the smell of moss and mud, our sneakers sinking slightly into the forest floor. Sunlight flickers through the canopy, catching on ropes, tires, and old wooden planks hanging between trees — clearly built by someone with too much free time and a questionable sense of safety.
“Holy crap,” Ryan says, looking up at the structure ahead. “Are we sure this was built by high schoolers and not, like, ex–Navy SEALs?”
Caleb grins. “Guess we’ll find out.”
The next challenge is a suspended bridge — wooden planks strung together by ropes, swaying wildly over a shallow dip in the ground. The cheerleaders clearly didn’t test this one, because it creaks loud enough to make everyone hesitate.
Margo goes first, light on her feet and surprisingly steady. “It’s fine!” she calls back. “Just don’t look down!”
Ryan looks down instantly. “Oh, great advice, thanks.”
When it’s Jemma’s turn, the bridge tilts to one side. She flails her arms, trying to steady herself, and I step right behind her, gripping the ropes tight. “Hey, I got you. One plank at a time.”
She nods, breathing fast but steadying her pace. When the wind catches her hair and the sunlight hits her face, for a split second I forget this is supposed to be a game.
We make it across one by one. Caleb claps his hands together. “All right, that’s one down.”
“Barely,” Ryan mutters, shaking out his hands like he just wrestled a bear.
The next obstacle is straight out of a military course — a wall of tires tied together, stretching high between two trees. Nate whistles. “Okay, this one looks fun.”
“Fun for who?” Stacy says, squinting up.
Ryan grins. “For us tall people.”
She flips him off, earning a laugh from everyone.
Caleb goes first, swinging his legs through the tires and climbing fast. Nate follows, making it look effortless. Margo’s strong and tall enough to get halfway, but Stacy keeps losing her footing and slipping back down.
“Hold on,” I tell her, stepping up beside the wall. I grab the bottom tires to steady them, my arms straining as she climbs again. “Use your knees, not your feet.”
She tries again, gritting her teeth, and this time she makes it higher. “Holy crap, it’s working!”
“See? You got this,” I say, glancing up to make sure Caleb’s there to help her at the top.
When it’s my turn, I barely have to think about it. My body just moves — grip, swing, pull, lock, climb. It’s all instinct. I’m at the top before I realize it, pulling myself over with one hand and landing beside Caleb.
“Dude,” he says, half laughing, half winded. “That was fast.”
“Guess I’m just motivated,” I say with a grin, but when I look down, Jemma’s watching me — eyes bright, mouth slightly open.
She shakes her head and laughs. “Show-off.”
We all regroup, panting and sweating. The trail ahead narrows again, and now there’s a rope course stretched between trees — platforms high off the ground, some gaps wide enough to make your stomach drop.
“Are they serious?” Ryan asks. “We don’t even have harnesses.”
“Guess that’s part of the fun,” Margo says.
Caleb volunteers to go first again, testing the first platform, which wobbles but holds. Nate follows, then me, and soon we’re all moving in a line, careful but quick. The boards shift under our weight, ropes creaking.
Halfway through, one of the boards snaps with a loud crack.
Everyone freezes.
“Keep going,” I call. “Don’t look down, just step farther apart. Use the ropes if you need to.”
Ryan swallows hard. “This feels like a trust exercise made by Satan.”
We make it across, barely, and collapse onto the next stretch of dirt path, laughing like we just cheated death.
Jemma’s cheeks are flushed, hair sticking to her face. “You’re insane,” she says between breaths, looking at me. “How are you so good at this?”
I shrug, trying to hide my grin. “Guess I played a lot of tag as a kid.”
“Tag doesn’t make you Spider-Man,” Ryan says, panting. “Seriously, man, that was some action movie shit.”
Caleb nods, leaning against a tree. “You’d kill it in the army or something. You move like you’ve done this before.”
“Yeah,” Nate adds, half-joking. “If this was a recruitment test, you’d be first pick.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “No thanks. I’d rather stay alive.”
That earns a round of laughs, but Jemma’s still looking at me like she’s seeing me differently. Like she’s realizing I’m not just some easygoing guy who jokes his way through everything.
We keep moving, slower now, and when the final obstacle comes into view — a fallen log stretched across a shallow river — everyone groans.
“Whoever falls in is doing laundry tonight,” Caleb says.
“Don’t tempt me,” Margo mutters, staring at the water.
We cross in single file, arms out for balance, laughing as Ryan pretends to wobble and almost takes Nate with him. Jemma’s right in front of me, shoes slipping slightly, and when she steadies herself by grabbing my arm, she looks back over her shoulder and smiles.
“Still think you’d rather stay alive?” she teases.
“With you around?” I grin. “Definitely.”
She laughs, shaking her head, and we make it to the other side together — soaked in sweat, covered in dirt, and happier than any of us have been in months.
We jog the rest of the way through the forest, our breaths syncing into a steady rhythm, the trees blurring past in streaks of green and gold. Every muscle in my legs burns, but no one says a word—we’re too close to the end now, the sound of voices and laughter getting louder ahead.
When we break through the last stretch of trees, the clearing opens up, and there they are—the cheerleaders, standing by a finish flag stuck in the dirt. The orange and black teams are already gathered near them, gulping water from plastic bottles and cheering as more groups arrive.
Then I spot the red team—and they’re in chaos.
One of the football guys is red-faced, gesturing wildly toward the trees. “I’m telling you, he was slowing us doooown!”
Another one crosses his arms. “He kept falling! He literally faceplanted like five times!”
The cheerleader at the front isn’t having it. “Doesn’t matter,” she says, twirling her whistle. “You got here without a team member. You’re not done until everyone’s across.”
The guy groans. “Oh, come on. He’s probably taking a nap back there!”
“Well, then you better go wake him up,” she fires back with a smile that isn’t a smile at all.
The rest of us can’t help laughing.
Caleb raises his hands in mock celebration. “So that means…?”
The cheerleader points at us with a grin. “Green team—third place!”
We erupt into cheers, high-fiving and clapping each other on the back. Even though we’re covered in dirt and sweat, it feels like victory.
Ryan bends over, hands on his knees, panting. “Third out of six isn’t bad. Top half. I’ll take it.”
“Barely top half,” Nate teases, shoving his shoulder.
I laugh and toss my arm around his shoulders. “Come on, third place is worth a little pride.”
He shrugs, but he’s smiling. “Yeah, yeah. Guess you’re right.”
Across the field, the red team’s still arguing, their missing guy nowhere in sight.
We all collapse on the grass, still laughing, still talking over each other, basking in the kind of exhaustion that feels good—the kind that means we actually earned something today.
Jemma drops down beside me, tugging at the green bandana in her hair. “Not bad for a bunch of amateurs,” she says.
I smirk. “Not bad at all.”
And for a second, surrounded by the noise of our friends and the smell of forest air, I forget about everything else—my parents, the silence waiting back home, the parts of me I don’t understand yet.
Right now, it’s just this. The team, the laughter, the way her knee brushes mine—and the quiet thrill of belonging.