Not Our Summer by Casie Bazay (android based ebook reader TXT) 📗

shorter route today,” Dusty explains once we’ve all gathered on the opposite side of the bridge. “We’ll have lunch at the lodge.”

“Yay!” someone says from behind me, and I have to agree. A lodge lunch does sound better than another PB&J.

Dusty clucks to his mule, but then pulls up again, turning to survey our group once more. “And just another reminder, smoking isn’t allowed under any circumstances in the canyon.” His eyes linger on me for an extra second, making my heart skip a beat. Becka tattled on me, apparently.

The smirk on her face leaves little room for doubt, but it’s not like she can prove anything. No one can. As the mules start uphill, my lips purse and I keep my eyes trained on my cousin, trying to catch a glimpse of her face each time we turn on the zigzag trail, but if she’s still scared, I can’t tell. This makes the ride markedly less fun for me.

We take two short rest stops today, and each time I hang with my three new pals. I’ve finally remembered the other woman’s name. Mona. I’ve also learned this is the second time they’ve all made this ride together. After talking with them I’ve decided on a new life goal: I want to be like them when I’m old. Still doing badass stuff like this.

At the rim, we say goodbye to our mules, and a bus shuttles us back to Bright Angel Lodge. A dull pang gnaws at my chest. I’m relieved to be back at the top, but that also means my first-ever vacation is coming to an end. Finding an empty table at the restaurant, I search around for my friends, hoping we can eat together one last time. Unfortunately, I don’t see them anywhere. They must have taken off early. Then, to my complete surprise, Becka appears and falls into the chair beside me, flopping an envelope onto the table.

“What’s this?” I pick it up and turn it over, seeing both our names listed along with the address for Bright Angel Lodge. The sender is Sisco and Browning Law Office.

“Certified mail,” Becka says. “I had to sign for it at the front desk.”

“Another one of Grandpa’s letters?”

“You’re a quick learner,” she says with a snort. “The lawyer said there’d be more.”

“I know, but I didn’t think it’d come here.” I want to smack that snide look off her face, but instead, I run my finger beneath the top flap of the envelope, peeling it open.

“May I?” I ask.

Becka crosses her arms. “Be my guest.”

CHAPTER 9ELI

My Dearest Granddaughters,

I hope you’ve enjoyed your trip into the Grand Canyon. You might be thinking your old Grandpa was even crazier than you thought, but hear me out and I’ll explain a few things.

One of my favorite memories as a kid was visiting the Grand Canyon. I was around eight when my parents took my sisters and me there, and it’s a trip I’ve never forgotten. We stayed in the campground in our camper and hiked along the rim every day. My mother didn’t care to get near the canyon’s edge, but my father took me and my sisters down into it one day. When we saw a line of mules and riders pass on the trail, my father said they were headed to the bottom to stay the night at Phantom Ranch. I knew I had to do that someday, so I made up my mind right then and there that I’d be back.

Well, my father passed away when I was fourteen, then Mom sold the camper, and we stopped taking vacations for the most part. When I married your grandma, I hoped we could return to the canyon, but money was tight in those days, and riding mules wasn’t exactly the kind of vacation Charlotte cared to go on. After the car wreck, when my panic attacks set in, my hopes for doing any kind of traveling at all dwindled away. But when I got the idea for you two to do some of the things I’d always wanted to do, this had to be first on the list.

I’d like to tell you a little story:

Back when I was a teaching assistant at the University of Arkansas, I was in charge of one of the science labs. I’ll never forget in one entomology class, there were two girls (Lisa and Jody—funny, how I still remember their names) who got into a big argument one day just as class was beginning. I don’t remember what they were arguing about, but the professor told them they would be lab partners from then on. I later found out by overhearing a conversation between two other students that Lisa and Jody had attended the same high school and evidently endured some sort of rivalry for a number of years. I thought the professor was only asking for a blow-up by putting them together. I just hoped that he knew what he was doing and that the expensive microscopes we’d just gotten in would be safe.

Well, Lisa and Jody did their work, but refused to talk to each other for the first few labs. Then one day, when we were doing a beetle dissection, I noticed the two of them were actually speaking to each other. It appeared they’d become so interested in their lab, they’d forgotten their feud with each other—at least for a little while. Strangely enough, things got better from there on out.

I don’t know whatever became of those girls, but I thought of them when I began planning these trips for the two of you. Hopefully, my two granddaughters can learn to talk to one another and, in time, maybe even become friends.

Love,

Grandpa

CHAPTER 10BECKA

K. J. HANDS THE LETTER TO ME WITHOUT SAYING A word. I could be mistaken, but she looks like she’s upset—if her version of upset consists of narrowed eyes and an exaggerated scowl, anyway.

“What?” I ask.

She shakes