A Beginner's Guide to the American West ✓

chapter thirty-one

t h i r t y - o n e

*

"March!"

I hear Arjun call my name, his voice muffled by the water and my pulse in my ears, and then I feel his hands around my wrists as he pulls me out of the water. But the second I put any weight on my right foot, that screaming pain returns and it's only thanks to him holding me that I don't go down again.

"Shit, March, what happened?" He looks panicked, his eyes so wide I can see the whites around his black-coffee irises, and he hooks his arm around my waist to help me out of the water. We're totally alone here, no-one to witness my humiliation and no-one to help.

"I rolled my ankle. Fuck, I think I sprained it," I say through gritted teeth, hobbling to the shore with his help.

"Are you sure?"

I nod and try not to grimace. I've had way more than my fair share of sprained ankles and I know what one feels like, and it doesn't get less painful. It doesn't help that I've broken this ankle three times and now, rather than the fused bone strengthening, it's weaker than before.

"Shit. Oh my god. You scared me!" He splays his hand over his heart when we're out of the water and I'm standing on one foot, leaning against him as though my life depends on it.

I want to weep. I really, seriously want to weep, and not just from the pain. I had a chance and I was going to take it, for once in my life, and I had to ruin it. And now I'm absolutely soaked and I can't walk, and we're a mile from the shuttle stop. In that moment, everything crashes down and I feel so overwhelmed, as though there's a weight on my chest, and I don't know what else to do but sit down and cry.

All I can taste is gross, dirty, stagnant lake water, and then the salt of my pathetic tears, and I can't bear for Arjun to see me like this. I want to hide away, to crawl beneath the sand so he can't see the shame in my leaking eyes, but there's no escaping him. He crouches down, right in front of me, and plants his hands on my shoulders.

"Hey. You're gonna be fine. We'll go back to the campsite and get you into something dry, and if it's just a sprain, it'll heal on its own. Right?"

I nod, because he's right, but it morphs into a shake of my head. "I can't walk," I mumble, my voice thick. My walking is already compromised by shitty balance and no coordination and a non-existent sense of direction, so when I'm down a foot, I'm useless. I have horrible, painfully awkward visions of the park rangers having to come and get me with their golf cart, or Arjun having to call Sam for help.

The taste of the lake rears up and forces a cough out of me, and it feels like I'm hacking up a lung when I bend over to the side, spitting algae and silt and bile onto the sand. Arjun's hand is between my shoulder blades and he's holding out a water bottle that he brings to my lips.

"Calm down, you're ok, March. Just get it out," he says, the hand on my back moving slowly. I swish out a mouthful of water and swallow the next, dragging the back of my hand across my mouth, and I want to fucking scream.

Once I've got my breath back and I've got rid of the taste in my mouth, I slump over my knees and wait for the ground to swallow me up.

It doesn't, unfortunately.

"Finish this," Arjun says, holding out the half-empty water to me. I do as I'm told. He screws the cap on the empty bottle and zips it into his bag, then pulls out a can of Coke. "This might help."

He cracks it open and hands it to me and I glug thirstily. The cool fizz is instantly refreshing, taking away the taste of the lake, and I swallow a few mouthfuls in quick succession until the bubbles start to burn my tongue and my throat.