Free 3 Willows: The Sisterhood Grows by Ann Brashares Page B

kiss once or twice, weren’t they? There weren’t any real consequences to a kiss.
    No, there weren’t. And besides that, it was over and done. She was never going to see the guy again in her life, and maybe that was for the best.
    “Ama, you ought to loosen up a little.” That was what Jared had said to her after breakfast. Now, hours later, Ama was still thinking about it. Jared wasn’t the first person to say that to her in her life. Jo had said it. Polly hadn’t said it outright, but Ama suspected she had thought it. Grace didn’t say it. The other kids in her accelerated math class never said it. Her parents didn’t say it and her sister certainly didn’t.
    What did it mean, anyway? What was so good about being loose? Could you get perfect grades if you were loose? Could you master four languages? Could you get into Princeton or get a full scholarship through medical school?
    Maybe looseness was one of the many things Ama couldn’t afford, like movie candy and Seven jeans. Maybe being loose was like hiking—only an idea, and from a practical standpoint, completely useless.
    Over the dying embers of the postdinner campfire, Ama sensed Noah looking at her. Her face burned, but she couldn’t look back. She pictured her hair. I would smile at him if my hair wasn’t this bad. I would talk to him. Definitely.
    “We’re going to be -working up toward the final rappel,” Dan, the bearded guy, was telling the yawning group. They had hiked eight miles through dense forest, and Ama had a pain and a blister for every one of them. “It’s three hundred fifty feet, give or take, so we want to get you guys comfortable with the ropes and the gear, and also with that kind of height.”
    Ama raised her hand. Dan looked over at her. “Ama, you don’t need to raise your hand here.”
    Ama pulled it down, embarrassed. It wasn’t the first time she’d been told that, either. She cleared her throat. “What’s a rappel?”
    “It’s the safest, fastest way to get down a cliff or a steep mountain face. We secure your rope to the top of the rock, and your belayer feeds you the rope as you go down. We ask that you take it slowly,” he said, looking meaningfully at Jonathan, -who was reckless.
    Ama held her own hand so she wouldn’t raise it again. “What’s a belayer?” she asked.
    “Your belayer is your trusted partner. He or she makes sure your rope is secure and lets it out slowly as you descend. Be nice to your belayer, -whoever he or she may be. He holds your life in his hands.”
    Ama felt a stab of terror. Had she been nice to anyone? Whom here could she trust -with her life? She pictured herself catapulting down the mountain to a painful death.
    “The rappel is kind of like your final exam,” Maureen explained. “It’s a big part of your grade. We want to start with some climbing tomorrow to make sure you’re all ready for it.”
    Ama felt her ears ringing. Her hand was halfway up before she could retrieve it. “What do you mean grade?”
    “Your grade for the course,” Maureen said.
    “Your grade for the course? You get a grade for the course?” Amas voice was anything but loose.
    “If you’re taking it for high school credit, as most of you are. We’re required to give you a grade. It’s not my preference, but that’s how it is.”
    “So you get a grade from this and it goes on your transcript?” Ama persisted.
    “If you are getting credit, yes.”
    “Can you take the course for credit but not get a grade, you know, just get a pass, like you get in gym?”
    “No, Ama, you can’t. You get a grade.”
    “And you have to throw yourself off a mountain to get a good one?”
    “We call it rappelling,” Maureen said patiently.
    Later that night Ama lay in her sleeping bag and worried. The night air -was humid and made the fabric of her sleeping bag feel slightly damp against her skin. Absently she watched the shadows passing over the orange nylon walls of the tent, -wondering if they