The Crimson Climb

Summit

The Cream Climb splayed out below us as we took in the view from the summit. I had only been here once before, about a week ago, before I began taking Walt climbing with me. He slows me down, but I appreciate the company. It's not like I'm slowed down by much, though. Despite my summer crash course in climbing, I haven't improved very much in terms of speed. Climbers pass me all the time, and I get jealous at first. Then I remember that they've probably been at this far longer than I have. This usually helps, unless they really look like newbies. Once, a dad with two kids got ahead of me. These kids couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old! And they were faster than I was! I tried to use my anger to help me climb faster, but it didn't really do much. It probably just made it worse.
Those kids were on the Cobalt Climb, though, and it was only my second time on Mount Clarence this summer. I suppose it doesn't really matter that much. Well, what about the cool kids? What will they think?
A chill of shame runs up my back before I can remind myself that they probably don't have much experience rock climbing, either. I haven't seen them here at all in the past few weeks. Maybe they're coming when I'm not here. You have to have some sort of experience before you can climb the Clementine and Crimson Climbs- the staff of Mount Clarence makes sure of that. The cool kids probably come later in the day to practice on the easier trails, like I do. I tend to do my climbing earlier in the day, though. Maybe next time I'll come in the afternoon and see if I can spot the cool kids then.
The following afternoon, before I know it, has me returning to the rocky face of Mount Clarence. It looks different in the afternoon light. I've seen it a million times in passing, but somehow the shadows fall in new places, and the sun hides behind the summit. After avoiding a collision with a passerby, I find myself in the information building. Here, you can learn about Mount Clarance, pay to climb, and rent gear. There's also a small kiosk in the corner selling granola bars and trail mix and stuff like that. I've never bought from it, though, because I usually bring my own snacks in case I get hungry, but I still glance in its direction as the woman the equipment rental counter hands me my rope and harness. As soon as I do, I tense up. Jenny Harrington's there, leaning against the side of the display - and she's staring right at me.
Darn. It's just my luck to have accidentally locked eyes with one of the cool kids. Even though I did admittedly come here looking for them in the first place, it was just out of curiosity. I had no idea or plan of what to do upon seeing them. I guess I was just hoping they wouldn't notice me. There goes that idea. Jenny's eyes aren't on me anymore, but the way she's talking to her friends lets me know I haven't left their conversation. I can practically overhear their gossip. I know I'm assuming the worst, but you can never be too careful with the cool kids, especially the girls. Word passes between them faster than lightning. The whole class will know about my being here in no time.
Then again, is it really that bad? I mean, you have to practice in order to be able to do something like the Clementine Climb. As long as I don't look like a loser in front of them, I should be okay. They know that I'll be there climbing with them soon enough. Jenny and I have a mutual friend, Mason, and as far as I know he's filled them all in and convinced them that I'm worthy of joining their little group.
Jenny throws a final glance in my direction before heading off to buy day passes with her friends. The threesome walk slowly but have smiles on their faces. Hopefully that isn't because they've been laughing about me. The dreadful possibility of it seeps through my veins. After a moment, the warm sunlight filtering in through the windows evaporates my depression, but the insecurities still linger in the back of my head. Will I ever be truly good enough for them?
I strap in my gear, and soon enough, I am on my way up. My muscles strain from working so hard yesterday. Maybe I won't go as far today. I can see Jenny and her pals just beginning to scale the Cream Climb from the ledge I've worked myself up to. This would be okay and unremarkable, except I'm on the Cream Climb too. They're coming up after me. Can't a guy get a break? My first instinct is to avoid them. I guess I'll have to break that habit when - if - I join their ranks, but for now it's instinct to me. Perhaps talking to them would be good, though. How else am I going to find out what they think of me? How else are they going to get to know me? How else am I going to get to know them? There's no way they haven't spotted me up here by now. I don't want to look like I'm waiting for them, so I restart my ascent. Maybe I'll catch the three of them at the next ledge.
Heaving myself up the side of the ledge, muscles burning, I pull myself to solid ground. Catching my breath, I look down to check on Jenny's progress. She and her friends are slower than I expected, but they're making good time nonetheless. I've no idea how long they've been practicing, so who am I to judge? If I had to guess, they've been at it for about as long as I have. They'll reach my ledge in maybe a minute or two. If I take a water break or work out a nonexistent cramp, I can finally talk to them. So I take a drink, then stretch my legs. As I'm switching sides, Jenny's brown hands enter my field of vision. The hands are followed by Jenny herself. She gets one knee, then two on the ledge, and before I know it she's standing right in front of me. She greets me, brushing a frizz of dark hair from her eyes, then helps her friends up.
"Didn't expect to run into you here," Jenny says.
Previously I'd thought it would be a good idea to talk to Jenny again, but now I'm not so sure. All the things I was preparing to say have suddenly vanished from my mind. My disheveled hair and sweaty shirt probably don't help my image either.
"Y-yeah, neither did I," I stutter, eyes darting from side to side. Hopefully, Jenny nor her friends notice  my anxiety taking effect.
"You come here often?" Jenny asks, drawling out the words somewhat. She fixes me with an expression that looks part apathetic and part something else I can't put my finger on. God, are teenage girls confusing.
Before I know it, I'm nodding my head. "All the time!" I affirm, offering her a nervous smile in return. Well, never really, except these last few weeks. But she doesn't need to know how much of a rookie I am. What if she was practically born climbing these slopes? I have no way of knowing.
"Huh." Jenny tilts her head a bit. "Then I guess we have something in common."
By this point, my nerves have calmed down enough for my brain to stop buzzing. Great. So she's been at this forever, probably. My attention shifts to the people she helped up the edge. "These guys, too?"
"Oh, yeah," she says, casually as ever. "Gotta practice for the big climb, y'know?"
"Oh, yeah, me too, actually. What a coincidence, meeting you here and all." Stop stating the obvious, Matt!
Jenny and her little posse appear unfazed by my terrible social skills. I'll definitely have to work on that once I join her crowd. Right now I'm just barely scraping by.
One of the other kids - a diminutive blonde with freckles across her nose - pipes up. "You got invited?" I expected her voice to be high pitched and, well, girly, but it has a surprisingly commanding tone.
Jenny turns to look back at the small girl. Before I can get a word in, she speaks. "Um, yes he did, Christine. Mason invited him, remember?"
It takes Blondie - Christine - a second to register the information. "Mason, right. I remember!" she says, nodding vigorously. Embarrassment radiates from her in waves. Jenny may be hard to read, but this girl's like an open book. I get the sense that this kind of thing happens often between the two.
Christine turns to me, smiling in the same nervous way I imagine I looked to Jenny moments earlier. "I guess I'll see you then!" she says.
Another one of Jenny's friends, an intimidatingly tall boy with pronounced muscles on his arms, stares me down through his sunglasses. "You think you can handle it?" he asks me.
"Well, yes, of course. I mean, I think so." What else am I supposed to say? When a guy with half a foot on you asks you a question like that, it's suicide to admit weakness.
The boy cracks a smile. "Good man," he tells me. "And good luck. You'll need it." He turns to talk to Christine, leaving me, Jenny, and her final companion. She turns so I can see her properly, and it's then that I recognize her. Her name is Madeline, although everyone calls her Mads. We went to middle school together (small town, am I right?) and were even in the same classes for math and history. In the eighth grade, she got in trouble once for yelling at a teacher, and the "mad Mads" jokes didn't stop until graduation. I haven't seen her much since then, but I can tell from the look on her face that she remembers me, and not in the best way. I may have participated in the mad Mads craze once. Okay, more than once. Way more than once. I had a feeling she might have pushed me off the ledge already if we were still in eighth grade.
Mads doesn't talk, though, just stares daggers. Jenny either doesn't take note or pretends not to. She pulls out her phone to check the time. "We'd better get going," she tells me. "Can't miss dinner out with these guys."
"Totally," I reply, trying my best to sound cool. If I have any luck at all she'll get a good last impression of me.
"Unless," she adds, fixing me again with that half-apathetic-half-unreadable look, "you want us to wait for you." A challenge glints in her eyes. "If you're up for a race."