Screwed (24 page)

Staring up at thirty feet of fake rock face, Grace was ready to tear off her harness and run back to Connecticut, into the safe, compassionate arms of Helen and Charlie. There was no way she could do this. She could have been standing at the base of Mount Everest.

“Are you ready?” asked Dirk, whose name fit him perfectly. Tall, blond, and ruggedly handsome, he was featured on the cover of the No Boundaries brochure, surrounded by formerly troubled teens who gazed up at him adoringly.

“No, not quite ready.” Grace tugged at the nylon straps between her legs. Dr. Weston had examined her and said she was good to go, but it sure didn’t feel like it.

“You look good down there,” Dr. Weston had said. “You didn’t need an episiotomy, so you’re all healed.”

“So I can go to Colorado?” Grace had explained No Boundaries to her.

“I wouldn’t want to go mountain-climbing two weeks postpartum, but you’re young, and I know that nothing I say is going to stop you, so just be careful. Your body has been through quite a bit, so try to take it easy. You’re going to be tired and sore.”

“I’ll be fine,” Grace said. Tired and sore were nothing after giving birth. It was the pain in her heart and her mind that threatened to do her in.

“You will be,” the doctor told her. “Give me a hug, and come back to see me when you get home.”

Dirk tugged on his own straps. “The harness is supposed to be tight like that, to hold you in and keep you safe.”

“I know.”

No one here knew why Grace had joined the program as a junior counselor. In her application she had written about her desire to test her mettle, face new challenges, all while helping young girls who had been through rough times. That was all true, but the reason for her need to do those things was her own special secret. Like Charlie had said, once she left home, no one would ever need to know. If she told, although she was certain everyone would be just as nice, they would see her differently. She would become just like the troubled girls she was helping, and for the first time in a long while, Grace needed to be someone without those kinds of problems.

“Then let’s do it, Super G.” As appealing as Dirk was visually, that’s how annoying he was to listen to. He never called Grace by her given name. It was always some irritating nickname, like G-Woman or Lady G.

“Okay, I’m going.” And she did. Managing to avoid looking straight down, Grace clawed her way to the top. Once there, she turned and for the first time looked down at Dirk, who was waving and smiling from what looked like a million miles below. Holding her breath so that she wouldn’t hyperventilate, she was at once terrified and ecstatic.

“You did it, Baby G. Now walk down that wall like Spiderman.”

Too scared to open her mouth for fear of what might come out, Grace did as she was told. Her arms felt like rubber bands when she got to the bottom; she could barely hang onto the water bottle Dirk handed her, spilling most of it all over herself.

But by the end of that first day, Grace knew she’d made the right decision. She had literally taken one step at a time, and she had conquered the wall. She could feel her power and self-worth returning, like a dead car battery slowly recharging, and as long as she didn’t spend too much time looking down, she was okay. Her knees were scraped from the rough concrete wall and her blistered hands ached from gripping the tiny handholds she’d used to pull herself to the top, but in all that throbbing agony was a sense of accomplishment she’d never known. Getting stellar grades had come so easily, and she realized she’d never pushed herself to do things she wasn’t already good at. Now she knew she was strong enough to challenge herself physically and emotionally, and the rush she got when she conquered her fears was far better than the thrill she’d experienced when Nick told her she was pretty or the satisfaction she felt when her parents used to pat her on the back for a perfect report card.

On the second day, Dirk made Grace look down every minute or two, and she didn’t throw up or faint. Being up high was still scary, but in a thrilling, roller coaster kind of way, because she had learned to trust the rope and Dirk and herself. Strangely, even thirty feet off the ground, she felt safer and more sure of herself than she ever had in her life.

“You’re pretty strong for such a munchkin,” said Dirk.

Grace shrugged. It wasn’t physical strength that was getting her through; it was pure determination. If she failed at this, she knew she would never recover from Nick. Although every muscle in her body was screaming out loud, Grace forced herself to keep going. Like childbirth without anesthesia, the pain was part of her self-inflicted corporal punishment. As nuts as she realized her homemade therapy probably was, it was the only way she was going to be able to forgive herself. Each twinge meant she was another step closer to getting her soul back.

After indoor climbing came outdoor climbing, which was way scarier, but Grace was ready. Then she learned how to build a fire, pitch a tent, kill and cook small animals, catch and gut fish, navigate by the stars, use a compass, gather rainwater, and learn what to do if she ran into a snake or a bear. No Boundaries was for real, and although Grace had read all the paperwork and knew the risks in the abstract, it wasn’t until she was dangling off a sheer rock cliff in the second week that she realized she could actually die in the process of trying to rebuild her life. When she first thought about it, still stinging from her crossed signals with Charlie, she became almost fearless, not caring what happened to her. It would serve Charlie right if she never came back — then he would be sorry he hadn’t fought for her. But the more she thought about what Jennifer had said right after Molly was born, the more she understood that she shouldn’t resent Charlie for lacking cojones when she had been just as much of a chicken. It was the twenty-first century, and there were no laws that said she couldn’t tell him first, couldn’t put her heart on the line and wait for him to hopefully meet her in the middle. They were both candy-asses, but the time had come for her to cowboy up, which seemed appropriate considering she was learning how to keep body and soul together in the wild, wild West.

After nearly five weeks of training, Grace was ready to meet her team. Under the supervision of a former heroin addict who had first come to No Boundaries as a troubled fourteen-year-old and was now a senior counselor, Grace would help lead four fifteen-year-olds on a two-week program designed to help rebuild broken spirits and shattered self-esteem.

“If you thought the last few weeks were hard, just wait,” said Truth. Not her real name, Truth had legally changed it to reflect her new philosophy of life after finding herself at No Boundaries more than a decade earlier.

“I think I’m ready,” Grace said, not at all certain she was or ever would be. Although she could start a fire with the tiniest piece of flint and had gotten her fear of heights under control, she wasn’t sure she had the emotional strength to help the kind of girls who came to No Boundaries — not just recovering drug addicts, but victims of abuse, runaways, and the occasional anorectic.

“Don’t worry about it. No one ever is. I’m still not. These kids are beyond messed up. I ought to know. I used to be one of them. Just remember, no matter how far gone a girl might seem, don’t you
ever
write her off as a lost cause.” Truth wasn’t usually so serious.

“I won’t give up,” Grace promised.

“I know this is hard for you, having never lived through any of the nightmare shit these girls have experienced, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get it. When you look them in the eyes, you’ll see what I mean.”

Several times, Grace had almost told Truth about Molly, but she always stopped herself. Maybe because compared to what Truth and these other girls had experienced, an unplanned pregnancy was like a broken fingernail. Even so, Grace knew it was silly to be so secretive, considering how open Truth was about her own history. More importantly, Grace knew that she needed to own her past if she was ever going to move beyond it, and owning it meant acknowledging it.

“The only thing you have to do is accept them for who they are, and then help them be the best people they can be going forward. That’s all we do here,” Truth said, putting her hands together in the Namaste pose and bowing slightly.

Grace wanted to cry, because that’s all she had ever wanted from her parents — to be accepted for who she truly was, not who they thought she was, not who they wanted her to be.

Truth looked at her watch. “It’s time to go meet our girls.” She jumped up and held out her hand to help Grace to her feet. A van pulled into base camp and the door opened, but none of the girls got out of their seats. “Sometimes they need a little coaxing. Remember, they’re not here by choice.”

Grace just nodded. It sounded like they were going to be carrying these girls up the mountain on their backs.

Truth climbed into the van. “Hey ladies, welcome to No Boundaries. My name is Truth, and we are going to do great things together. Please give me your phones as you get off the bus.”

No one said a word, but one after another, the girls trudged off the van and stood in a sulky line in front of Grace. Intimidated by their despair, which they each wore like a suit of armor, Grace didn’t know what to do next.

“Hi, I’m Grace. I’m your junior counselor,” she said, knowing she sounded like a waiter introducing herself as she handed out the menus:
Hi, I’m Grace, and I’ll be your server this evening
.

They spent an awkward hour getting to know each other, as much as anyone could get to know four girls who clearly wished they were anyplace else. The girls’ silence continued as Truth explained the rules at No Boundaries and went through their duffel bags, confiscating four Fentanyl patches, three joints, two cartons of cigarettes, and a pot pipe that looked like a miniature penis. It was like a druggie Twelve Days of Christmas.

“I get those back after, right?” asked Kat, who had the face of a ten-year-old but the gravelly voice of a veteran smoker.

“You do realize that you were sent here by drug court, and if you use drugs while you’re here, you’re going to go to jail?” Truth said.

“Whatever. I got that pipe in Tijuana. It’s a souvenir, and I’d like it back. Memories,” said Kat, staring at a tree behind Truth, not at all fazed by the threat of incarceration. “And the smokes, too.”

“We’ll see. Hopefully, by the time we’re through, you won’t want them back.”

“We’ll see,” said Kat, arching one eyebrow.

“Danni, where did you get the Fentanyl patches?”

“My grandma. She has bad arthritis.” Danni said, chomping on an enormous wad of pink gum and twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

“Don’t you think she’s probably missing them right about now?”

“She’s got plenty.” Danni spit out her gum onto the ground.

“Pick that up right now. This is God’s country, and we don’t litter.”

As Danni bent over she flipped the bird at Truth, ending in a salute as she stood upright. “Thank you. Beth, nice rolling job. Excellent technique, but really? You just got out of rehab two days ago,” Truth said, holding up one of the joints.

“I wasn’t planning on smoking them,” Beth said.

“What were you planning on doing with them?” Rubbing her forehead, which was already throbbing, Truth reminded herself that the first day was always the worst.

“I like to hold them. Like a lucky rabbit’s foot, you know?”

Truth shook her head and exhaled slowly. “No, I don’t. But you know what, the first rabbit we kill, the foot’s yours. How does that sound?”

“Can I have one?” Kat asked, sounding interested for the first time.

“Why not? Tara, thank you for not bringing any contraband. I really appreciate it,” Truth said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tara whispered, staring down at her brand new boots.

Dressed for a vacation in Vail, in head-to-toe Patagonia and real Bavarian hiking boots with a thick braid hanging down her back, Tara looked like she was on break from some fancy East Coast boarding school, not carrying out some court-ordered punishment. The other girls were in skinny jeans, Converse sneakers, and about a gallon of black eyeliner. It was going to be a rough trip for Tara. She was clearly the weakest member of the herd.

“Kiss-ass,” Danni whispered, making smacking sounds.

“There will be none of that here,” Truth said sternly. “Respect.”

In spite of their lack of enthusiasm, all four girls were quick learners, and they seemed to enjoy Dirk’s silly name-calling. They took pride in their bruises and blisters, and they were all, including Tara, incredibly gutsy. No matter what Dirk asked them to do, none of them backed down. At the end of the first week, Kat Woman, Danni Darkness, the Bethinator, and Terrible Tara were ready to tackle the mountain. They sounded like a roller derby team.

“I’m proud of you, and you should be proud of yourselves for what you’ve accomplished so far,” Truth said, as the six of them sat around the campfire on their first night on the mountain. “Let’s each share what the hardest part of your first week was.”

Kat, Danni, and Beth all complained about the lack of coffee and cigarettes. Tara said she was afraid of heights. The other girls laughed, and Tara zipped her fleece pullover all the way up to her chin and pulled her hands inside her sleeves. She looked like a turtle withdrawing into her shell.

“Respect,” Truth whispered, glaring across the flames at the three rebels who had become fast friends, leaving the debutante on the outside looking in.

“I’m afraid of heights, too,” Grace said. “I think you’re very brave.”

“You too,” Tara whispered, her voice barely audible, as if she didn’t want anyone to hear what she was saying. Her uncertainty hung in the air around her like a dense fog.

“A few puffs of some good weed, and you’ll be ready to jump out of an airplane,” said Kat, miming taking a drag on a joint.

Truth reached over and gave her a gentle swat on the side of the head. “You think you’re so tough with your penis pipe? When I was your age, I ran away with my twenty-year-old boyfriend. We went on a week-long heroin binge that ended when I got arrested for soliciting an undercover cop. After I got out of rehab, my parents didn’t know what else to do with me, so they sent me here. I thought they were full of shit, this place was full of shit, the world was full of shit. But this shitty place saved my life, and it’s going to save yours, too. That’s the only speech I’m going to make, so I hope you were paying attention.”