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M y dad led us down increasingly tougher trails as the afternoon sun traveled through the sky. I blamed my jumpiness on that, and not the fact that the brush with a classmate had left me wired.

My shoulders bunched up to my helmet, and my hands hurt from their steely grip on the handlebars as Dad coached me through another hill.

“Anyway,” Dad said, looking at me, “I want you to remember—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t punch the throttle, stay smart, and faster isn’t always better,” I repeated from memory.

Dad grinned at me, his golden-brown eyes lighting up. “Said that before a couple of times, have I?”

“Yes,” Nick and I chorused in sync.

“Well then, here’s a new one,” Dad countered, his grin fading to signal he was serious. “If anything seems too difficult, don’t try it. I don’t care what it is—a hill, holes, ruts... Just let me know, and I’ll drive that part while you hitch a ride. Your mom is beyond nervous about this trip. Let’s avoid giving her a reason to say, ‘I told you so.’ She’d be impossible to live with,” Dad teased with a wink.

Nick snickered, but I just nodded my head, feeling my adrenaline surge, making me feel that weird combination of energetic, nauseous, and shaky. This was happening. I’d driven the four-wheeler a million times at home, but this time felt more official, more dangerous .

“To recap, I want you to follow me. If I think anything is too hard for you, then you hop in the Jeep with us through that part, and I’ll go back for the four-wheeler. Okay?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Dad rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, Willa.”

I lowered my voice. “Yeah, I know.”

He studied me a beat longer before nodding, calling out to the rest of the crowd, “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Wolf whistles and catcalls greeted my dad’s pronouncement, and I grinned a bit, allowing myself to enjoy the entourage—even if just for a minute.

Halfway down the first steep hill, I worried the brakes weren’t all that great on the four-wheeler. With it being a manual and having only driven it on mostly flat ground, I’d never even noticed before, otherwise Dad would have fixed it in a hot second.

Still, I told myself I was being overly paranoid with so much pressure not to mess up.

I shrugged it off and flashed Dad a thumbs-up, hearing his, “Atta girl,” reply through my helmet.

We continued on.

Dad shared what CB channel we were on once we learned a couple of the out-of-staters had a radio setup in their rigs, so we could all communicate without having to stop, get out, and ask each other face-to-face. Their running commentary sounded in my ear, much like Dad’s earlier “atta girl,” since Dad had installed a CB headset and kit in my helmet. Reception out here in the woods was notoriously nonexistent, so phones were out.

My confidence soared as I grew more comfortable with the trails. I even threw in the odd fishtail around a sharp turn instead of braking, something I’d done millions of times at home but hadn’t been brave enough to do yet with the audience.

The out-of-staters grew increasingly excited to try some of the bigger hills, and eventually, Dad had me pull up beside him for another quick chat. It was easier to do this on a small four-wheeler than it was to pull off with two full-sized Jeeps on the narrow trails.

“Yeah?” I asked, raising the shield on my helmet and feeling cooler air waft against my face. He motioned for me to cut off my speaker, so I clicked the button along the jawline to stop the input from my end.

“I know you have your own speaker and whatnot, but I wanted to avoid asking this over the radio since I realized I might have put you on the spot earlier at lunch when I asked in front of everyone.”

“Ha-ha, uh, yeah, that was a little nerve-racking,” I agreed. “But that’s okay. It’s all good now.”

He grinned at me. “It’s fine if you aren’t ready, but would you like to try something hilly?”

Having heard all the guys chatting, I knew why he was asking and really appreciated that he’d had me pull up to ask in person. They had a few Jeeps keyed to low-geared ratios, and they wanted to flex a bit, trying their hand at inclines.

“Uh, I don’t want anyone to be bored.”

Dad waved off my concerns. “We’re next to a fork in the trails here. One way is similar to what we’ve been doing. The other is somewhat tougher. If you’re uncomfortable, I could give them directions on the other, and then we’ll join up when the trails meet later on. I just want you to be comfortable. It appears like you’re doing just fine. You look looser and more natural, like you normally ride.” He gave me a knowing look. “But you aren’t saying much on the CB, so I wanted to ask. Do they make you too nervous?”

Ah, this was because of the thumbs-up I’d been flashing him instead of speaking out loud.

I gave his suggestion some consideration. I’d relaxed into the feel of the terrain, which meant I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up every second now, and he said I’d been doing alright. Even though it was hard to forget the presence of so many strangers in our group watching me learn, none of them had said a single negative thing.

Oh, why not?

“We can do the harder trail.”

Dad tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at what he could see of my face with the helmet still on. Doubtlessly, he was feeling uncertain without access to my usual tells to gauge my sincerity. “You’re sure, kiddo?”

I nodded, the large helmet making me feel like a bobble-headed doll.

“Alright,” he said before he pushed the button on the CB. A strange echo emanated when I heard him both from my speakers and right in front of me. “Listen up, ladies.” That comment got a few grumbles I could hear even without the CB. “I’m using that as the highest compliment since my seventeen-year-old daughter has been showing you all up today.”

I blushed bright red at that, slowly slid my face shield back into place, and dropped my head to rest on the handlebars.

“We’re going left at this fork. It’s a more difficult trail. If you aren’t woman enough to take it, then you can go right. It’s slightly easier, and they’ll both join back up in about ten minutes or so.”

“Woman enough, huh?” someone’s voice crackled over the CB. It might have been John, the most vocal in the group, but I couldn’t be sure. “Well, since you put it that way, it’s time to woman up, boys.”

The trail didn’t seem all that bad until we got to the first hill.

As it turned out, I should have trusted my instincts.

Because I hadn’t, the universe seemed to take exception to me ignoring the warning, and the Fates decided to bless me with a trial by fire notification.

“Okay, kiddo…” Dad coached me from the other side of the hill like he’d done a dozen times today. “I want you to give her gas. It’s a steep incline. Make sure you have all your speed up before you reach the bottom. This will keep your gravity low and stop you from stalling out. If you slow down too much and stop going forward no matter how much gas you give it—”

I cut him off. “Downshift.”

One of the out-of-staters chuckled. “She’s got your number, Dad. You’ve said this once or twice before today alone. She’s got this. Your girl’s a champ.”

“Okay, okay, okay. I get it,” Dad retorted.

“You’re probably more nervous than she is, Robert,” another added with a laugh.

I grinned and drove forward, shifting and gaining speed. My front tires straddled the tire tracks, and then the nose of the four-wheeler was facing the sky.

“Willa, is that you I hear? Wait, I didn’t get a chance to tell you it turns to the right on this side. Oh, and don’t forget to mostly use your rear brakes on the way—”

Dad cut himself off because he’d spotted me as I crested the top. “Show-off,” he muttered affectionately.

I grinned to myself as I made sure I was in the correct gear to coast down the other side. The top of the hill had slowed my speed enough that it seemed like I had all the time in the world to do it, but then, I was flying downhill, gaining an alarming amount of speed despite using the rear brakes.

“More front brake,” Dad advised.

I applied more pressure to the front brakes, but nothing happened. Panic settled in as the four-wheeler only sped up. Approaching the right turn, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to make it.

“Dad, why isn’t she slowing down?” Nick asked.

“More brake, more brake!” Dad shouted.

“I’m trying! It’s not working!” I yelped, terrified.

“Willa, downshift! Use the engine to stop you!”

I downshifted and jerked forward as the four-wheeler’s engine whined and screamed at the abuse. It slowed me just enough to stop me from driving straight off the trail at the turn. Instead, I only went off halfway and had to ramp the ruts carved into the earth from the larger vehicles. Popping onto my feet, I used my knees to absorb the shock and help keep the quad balanced. I countered the swerve, narrowly missing a sapling as I bounced back onto the trail, sweating bullets.

Luckily that was the only turn, and the bottom of the hill was a clearing big enough to park several full-sized vehicles. Because of that, I coasted for a bit, slowing naturally. Lo and behold, my brakes kicked in when they were no longer fighting gravity.

I wasn’t even fully stopped before I realized my dad stood right next to the four-wheeler, snatching the front and rear racks to help slow it down faster.

“Willa? Willa, are you okay? Willa, answer me. Can you hear me? Willa?” Dad placed his hand atop my helmet and tipped me back to get a better look at my face.

The other guys were asking questions about what happened and if I was alright, but Dad wasn’t by his radio anymore, and I didn’t trust my voice to speak yet, so they went unanswered apart from them hearing Dad’s nonstop inquiries through my microphone.

Dad pulled me into a hug that lifted me right off the seat. The helmet dug uncomfortably into my shoulder as he squeezed me so tightly that my oversized head shoved backward at a sharp angle. He didn’t seem to notice, and I didn’t seem to care.

One measly hill, and I was reduced to the emotions of a scared little girl.

Where was all that high school maturity now?

“The brakes—” I huffed, feeling sore and exhausted, like I’d run a marathon.

Dad didn’t need more of an explanation. He didn’t question whether I knew what I was doing or if I was sure. He just heard my half answer, redirected his attention to the offending machinery with a glare, and went belly up in the dirt, trying to inspect the part in question.

While I caught my breath, Dad, as well as two other people, checked over the four-wheeler’s brakes while the other dozen or so watched. So... basically, it was just like a construction site.

After a while, they determined that yes, indeed, I needed new brakes.

So shocking.

Dad bopped me on the head when I mumbled that out loud, and then he lectured me for a solid ten minutes about all the possible malfunctions—a line could have come loose, the brakes could have been too muddy and wet to work right, something about hydroplaning, or the fluids could have been low.

I just nodded and kept my head down, unwilling to make any more smart remarks that would earn me further lectures. My cheeks were already tinged pink in embarrassment when I’d noted the others’ muted amusement.

“Yes, Dad,” I replied demurely, on my best behavior.

More than likely, Dad just needed to vent all the pent-up emotion from watching me fly down that hill like a NASCAR driver at the Indy 500. That would scare any parent, so I endured as best as I could, trying not to hold it against him.

When the lecture wrapped up, the others closed in, not even attempting to be subtle in their timing so I could halfway convince myself they hadn’t been listening, and then the jokes began. The crowning achievement of horror had to be “Wild Willy.” An alarming amount of them had taken a liking to my dad’s atrocious nickname for me, and after the crazy maneuvers, it looked like Wild Willy might stick.

“Alright,” Dad cut in, “that was the nastiest hill on this trail. The rest is easy, so we’ll continue because this will take us back to Trail Zero faster. It’ll be getting dark soon anyway, and I need to feed my gremlins.” He ruffled my helmet hair, drawing my ire. “Also, the conservation officers get testy when you’re out on the trails at dark, so keep that in mind if you want to take another trail today.”

“Nah, I think we’re all good. We’d get lost out here, so we’ll turn in too.” John was speaking for the group again, but no one objected, so it made things easier.

My hands shook as I turned to the ATV.

Dad noticed me staring at the thing like it was a coiled, hissing snake. “Really, Willa. This might contradict what I said before, but you handled that emergency like a pro, and you know there aren’t any more hills after this. You can do this. If you don’t get back on after something scary, you’ll build it all up in your head and might never ride again.”

I gave him a woeful look, but he just shook his head at me.

“Nope, don’t give me that,” he warned when he made sure my helmet was fastened correctly for the third time . “Go on now. Off with you.”

I heaved a sigh and approached the quad. It was the same old, white four-wheeler it’d always been. It was muddier than normal with a couple of twigs and leaves wedged in the front grill after my short but terrifying journey off the side of the trail.

I gave my dad one more pleading look, but he crossed his arms and nodded. With trepidation, I climbed on and started the engine, glad when everyone piled back into their vehicles so they wouldn’t see the tremble overtaking my spine.

My dad reiterated, “We just have a few hundred more feet before we join back up with the easy trail, so we should be good from that point on. Willa?”

He paused long enough that I realized he was waiting for me to reply to be sure I was listening. “Yes, Dad?”

“Make sure to engine brake if you have any problems stopping. Got it?”

As if I’d soon be forgetting that valuable life lesson. “Got it, Dad.”

We headed out.

My hands shook so badly that each time the wheels passed over a bump, the ATV jerked and swerved due to the tightness of my grip on the handlebars. The stiff-armed stance overcorrected more than once, and from the back of the pack, I probably looked drunk.

None of them commented on it over the radio though. In fact, it was nearly dead silent, so I could pretend there weren’t a dozen cars following me.

The trails became more familiar, and I gradually relaxed until I was completely calmed down by the time we reached camp an hour later. Our entourage bid us good night and filtered off to their respective tents after one last round of congratulations on doing such a good job.

Nick helped with dinner once more because anything to get the food done faster, right?

I didn’t bother to take off a single piece of gear. It had cooled off enough as the sun dipped below the tree line, so I was no longer dying of heat. At this point, I wasn’t even sure I could get off the four-wheeler. I just reclined back, my cushioned helmet becoming a nice pillow as it cradled my head between two bars atop the cargo rack. My booted feet rested on the front fenders, finishing my horizontal totality.

Surprisingly, it was pretty comfy.

“Just bring me a blanket,” I mumbled, listlessly lifting a hand. “I’ll sleep right here.”

Dad stepped close enough to peer at me through the helmet. “No can do, kiddo. You’d be covered in bug bites by morning.”

“Meh.”

“You look mighty cozy there, Willy. I bet even spiders would crawl on you and stretch “spiders,” I jerked upright into a sitting position once more. “I am not cozy—ow, ow, ow!”

Dad chuckled with an aggravating lack of sympathy. “Sore?”

He didn’t need an answer to that, so I didn’t deign to give him one. Instead, I focused on moving each individual muscle.

“Just make it to the table. Just make it to the table, Willa.” My mantra somehow carried me to my destination, where I poured into a seat like water. There was no grace about it, just a quick maneuver before letting gravity do its thing.

“How can you stand wearing all that gear still?” Nick asked, giving me a doubtful look that said he was mentally calculating my sanity.

“It cooled down outside. Quit being so whiny,” I replied.

“Uh, no, it hasn’t. It’s still over eighty degrees.”

I frowned and lifted my head, raising the face shield to look over Nick and Dad. They both still glistened with a light sweat, but I most definitely didn’t.

I was cold.

Dad froze before approaching, putting his hand on my cheek. He swore, surprising us. He didn’t pay any attention to that though. He was too busy rummaging around for snacks. “You need to eat some food now .”

The gears in my brain chugged before kick-starting.

Dad knew I was about to have an episode.

A bad one.

Even now, I heard the faintest bit of staticky white noise. It wasn’t distinguishable as any particular sound both because it was too quiet and because it sounded like there were too many... things voicing at the same time.

A box of Twinkies was shoved in front of my face, and I started in on them. Halfway through the box, the sounds faded and ceased.

Nick threw a blanket around my shoulders and startled me with his grown-up attitude when he put his hand on my forehead. “You’re still cold. Keep eating, sis.”

I saluted him with the Twinkie in my hand, angling to get him to lose the worried look in his eyes. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

I finished the box of Twinkies and then also had to eat everything Dad put on my plate when he finished grilling the hotdogs.

“We were going to roast these over the fire, but this is quicker,” he chirped with a cheerful attitude that fooled no one. “At least this way we won’t have to worry about burning our hands or losing the wieners in the dirt.”

I grinned. “Who says wieners?”

“Me.”

“So how was shotgun?” I asked Nick.

Nick’s dark brown curls looked almost black in the firelight. “I hope you like riding the four-wheeler, because there’s no way you’re getting it back now,” he said by way of answering, stuffing a second hotdog into his mouth in almost three bites.

I might eat a lot, but at least I chewed instead of swallowing whole. Nick could give a snake a run for its money. My nose wrinkled at his antics.

After carefully monitoring that I’d eaten everything and checking my temperature for the fifteenth time, Dad eventually began building a campfire. Nick jumped up to gather the wood, and I had to stay swaddled up like a caterpillar in my blanket cocoon.

That did little to keep my mind preoccupied, and if I focused too hard, the white noise would begin humming to life.

Desperate for a distraction, I recalled my humiliating interaction with Ralph Buchanan outside the bathrooms, and boy, did that change of topic do wonders to keep my thoughts busy. That was an awful place to bump into someone. Camp shower blocks were notorious for not being the cleanliest of places. If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, I’d followed that incident up with a nice, heaping dose of blabbermouth syndrome. I was so cool.

Finally, a touch of heat warmed my cheeks before eventually spreading to the rest of my body as the fire crackled to life.

I glanced around the campsite.

Through the darkness, I could just make out the silhouette of the gray Jeep I’d thought was familiar. Running into Ralph had confirmed my suspicion.

I’d seen that Jeep at school.

Eventually, Dad determined I was back to normal, and we all retired to bed.

Ralph Buchanan’s words, “We’ll see you,” rattled around my brain with a vengeance, keeping me up long after Nick quit rustling in his sleeping bag beside me and settled into slumber.

We who?