"Sorry, what?" I said, in disbelief.
"Come on, Leigh," Finn sighed. "Look at this mess we're in. We could just walk around in the visitor center for a while until someone recognizes us. How bad could the consequences be?"
I picked my jaw up off the ground and began to fathom a response. "You're insane. Absolutely batty. We can't go back. I thought we had both agreed on that."
Finn stretched his legs out and rubbed his shins, murmuring something about his tibial stress syndrome. "We can't live up here forever. Sooner or later someone is gonna find us and sell us out. Think about how close it was just a few minutes ago!"
I exhale loudly. As much as I adore Finn, he is rather yielding and often doesn't think about things in the long term.
We are silent for a moment, each in our own thoughts. At last, Finn breaks the dead air. "Hungry?"
I nod.
Every night, after the mountain's visitor center is closed and all the hikers have gone home, Finn and I break into the cafeteria. Its really not as bad as it sounds, though. We don't exactly "break" in, so much as climb through a window and steal a backpack full of day-old buns and bruised apples.
The hike down is the worst part. It is completely down hill along side the glacial river, which Finn always insists on swimming through.
"Come with me, Leigh," he pleads, pulling off his hoodie and sweatpants and tossing them to me. "Cold water's good for the soul!"
I fumble, but manage to catch Finn's clothes. He wades precariously around the rocks and into the chest-deep water. "I'm ok here," I reply.
"You're no fun," he pouts but swims alongside me anyways.
Its a long, boring walk for me as usual, especially with Finn paying attention to nothing but the bottom of the river. After a half hour or so of walking, the visitor center comes into view. Its a simple, good-sized log cabin perched on a cliff, and if you didn't know any better you might think a mountain man and his family lived there. But as you get closer, you can see the graffiti on the walls and signs plastered over the plexiglass doors - signs of the public, signs of life. An eerie feeling crawls up my spine every time I see the building; hundreds of people pass through here every day with the hustle and bustle of a city and now it is hauntingly quiet.
Just under the cliff is the spot where the river picks up and becomes more rapid. Although I know Finn isn't stupid enough to let himself be carried away by it, I remind him well in advance to climb out before it's too late.
"Come on," I shout over the noise of the rapids. "Get out of there now!"
He laughs, and grabs hold of a tree root on the bank. Anxiety claws at my insides. What if his hand slipped? What would I do then?
I can see it. Finn loses his grip on the slippery root and is carried away by the rough waters. He calls my name as his head disappears underwater, and I see a spiral of blood -
"Alright Mom," Finn jokes, grabbing his clothes out of my arms.
He slips back into his sweats and hoodie, shivering. "Its fucking cold in there."
I roll my eyes.
Together, we scale the back wall, where a window is located on the second story. As usual, it opens without a problem and in turn Finn and I slide inside. The window ledge drops down onto a cafeteria table, on which is a pile of napkins and a ketchup bottle.
"Mmm, I can taste the pudding cups already," Finn moans, grabbing my sleeve and heading to the kitchen.
"Pff," I scoff. "Help yourself to the pudding. I want a croissant." We giggle like schoolchildren and jog to the kitchen, but our giddiness is abruptly interrupted.
"Hey Carl?" A man's voice with a thick accent yells. "Is that you in the kitchen, Carl?"
I freeze. Finn mouths some cuss words and we panic for a minute. In all the times we have broken into this cafeteria, no one has ever been in here.
"Nah, Gurveer I'm in the east hallway!" A second voice calls out into the dimly lit building, from slightly farther away than the first."
"Then who's in the kitchen!?" Gurveer demands.
"Oh shit," I say under my breath.
"Get the hell out," Finn mutters.
