Nature Girl by Jane Kelley Page B

expression.
    “What? Brownies aren’t good for dogs.”
    I crumple up the bags and cram them deep in my pack. But I don’t want to be reminded of what a pig I was. So I take them out and bury them behind a bush.
    “There.” I brush the dirt off my hands.
    Arp is still looking at me.
    “What? For your information, that’s where they always put trash. They bury it in a landfill. What do you expect me to do with it? It’s not like there’s going to be a garbage can around the next corner.”
    The moment I turn my back, he starts digging up the bags.
    “Stop it, Arp. Whose side are you on?”
    I carefully cover everything up.
    “Weren’t you listening when I told Trail Blaze Betty how important it is?”
    He looks at me like I must not have been listening either. The brownies have been eaten. So I bribe him with a peanut butter sandwich. Then I remind him, “The only way to fail is to quit, so let’s keep going!”

8
Saved!
    I don’t exactly know how the Trail can find out my secrets, but I don’t want to take any chances. For the next hour, I totally respect the Trail. I step over roots. I don’t whack trees or kick stones. I don’t rip leaves off branches. I try to keep Arp from lifting his leg right by the edge.
    “Can’t you do that someplace else?” I ask him.
    But he doesn’t listen. He’s having too much fun chasing after chipmunks and rabbits. Sometimes he doesn’t even see an animal; he just sniffs along a trail of stink that a wild creature left behind in the dead leaves. He really shouldn’t do that. What if the stink trail led to that Bear? Besides, then he always has to run like crazy to catch up.
    “Arp, you’re wasting energy!”
    Does he care? Of course not.
    “We have a long way to go. And I’m not carrying you anymore when you get tired.”
    It’s past twelve o’clock. I’m not hungry. Those eight brownies are a big lump in my stomach that won’t go away. Like a huge pile of guilt. I’m so hot and tired, all I want to do is lie down and take a nap. But I can’t. I have to keep going, because as you might remember, Trail Blaze Betty said that Mount Greylock isn’t just around the next bend—it’s a FEW DAYS AWAY.
    The Trail is in a flat part and not uphill or anything, but my legs just don’t want to go. My muscles are saying, Excuse me, didn’t we do this yesterday already? How can you possibly expect us to do it again?
    I drag my legs along the Trail like they’re paralyzed or something. I get another, bigger walking stick. It’s too hard to carry, so I drop it. Then I wonder if that’s respecting the Trail. Trail Blaze Betty is so crazy, she’d probably want me to put the stick back where I found it.
    By one o’clock, I’m sure that Mom and Dad are back from Rutland. Ginia is saying, I thought she went with you. Mom is saying, I thought she was with you. Dad is calling whoever is in charge of finding lost girls. I hope that Ginia is in big trouble. I hope she’s sorry she told all those lies. The Trail would find out a lot about her, that’s for sure.
    Only she’s not hiking the Trail. I am. At least, I’m trying to.
    Arp and I stop and have a drink. I have to give him some water from the second bottle because there aren’t any puddles. Only when I’m giving him the water, he bumps the bottle and the rest of it spills and disappears right into the ground. Of course, when I spill water, it would be someplace where it doesn’t even make a puddle for Arp.
    I slump down over the empty water bottle. Why did I ever think I could hike all the way to Massachusetts? Who am I kidding? I never did anything my whole life. It’s like Trail Blaze Betty said. The Trail will find out the truth about me. And the truth about me is that I’m a lying, lazy quitter.
    The yucky voice says,
“You’ll never make it, so why even bother to try?”
    And if I’m going to quit anyway, I might as well quit now. Wouldn’t that be the sensible thing to do? Wouldn’t that save a lot