Community Service

Community Service | Part Nine

        Community Service | Part Nine

            Ross doesn’t really save the environment and neither do I, only two black bags halfway full with trash between the two of us. I’ve lost track of all the twists and turns we’ve made on the path, and I’m wondering if Ross is really as directionally coordinated as he claims to be when he suddenly stops on the trail and I nearly run into his sweaty, naked back.

            “Um, is everything okay?” I ask, shading my face with my hand and wiping off the sweat on my forehead. The sun is hot and brutal, sapping up any strength I had, and even Ross is very out of breath, leaning on his stick for support.

          Ross looks around at the trees and gulps, and I freeze. “Um.”

          “Ross?”

            “Yeah.”

            “You do know where we are, right?”

            “Well-“

            Now is not the time for him to grin sheepishly and give me his yeah-we’re-totally-lost-sorry look.

            “You’ve got to be kidding.” Wheeling around on my heels, I give him a stoic glare, staring at the trees and rocks that literally look identical to the ones we passed an hour ago. “This is not good-“

            “Hey, it’s fine.”

            “Fine?”

            “Do you have your phone? We can just call the park office and they can get an aerial view of the park. My dad and I-“

            “Ross.”

            “Yeah?”

            “I don’t have my phone.”

            “Oh.”

            There is silence as I wonder if it’s a good idea to ask my next question. “Do you have, uh, your phone?”

            There is another silence and I don’t like it at all, panic building up inside of me as Ross’ facial expression gets even more sheepish with every second, like a kid just caught stealing three candies from the free-but-only-take-one lollipop jar at the dentist. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to completely understand that we are completely screwed over.

            “Shit.”

            “I mean we’ll find our way out.” He replies optimistically, but the end of his sentence trails off as his confidence in his words dies.

            We don’t find our way out in the next twenty minutes of stomping around and peering through the thick underbrush and I am fried, slumping down on the ground against a tree stump and watching as Ross’ face gets really, really guilty for leading us into this dismal situation. I’m not mad at him, since it’s probably been a while since he’s hiked with his dad, and I feel like there’s some need to treat him with fragility after his candid confession earlier.

            “Do you want to sit?” I ask, patting the dirt ground next to me and squinting at him in the sun. “I don’t think we’re going to get out of here anytime soon so we might as well just rest for a second.”

            Ross hesitates for a second, chest heaving (something I don’t fail to notice unfortunately), then acquiesces, falling onto the dirt with a sigh, shielding his face from the persistent sun with his right hand.