Free All We Have Left by Wendy Mills

slithers through my head and I slice it in two and bury the pieces.
    “Okay.” I turn away from him and check my gear. I step to the bottom of the falls, thinking about the best line to take and where I can set screws.
    “Am I on belay?” I ask, looking back at Adam, who is pulling on a pair of heavier gloves, tucking his lighter climbing gloves in his pack at his feet. He has anchored himself with webbing to a nearby tree, which is probably overkill, but I’m glad to see he’s being careful even if he is a cocky jerk.
    “Belay on,” he answers.
    “Climbing,” I say, kicking my crampons into the ice.
    “Climb on,” he answers.

    He surprises me by being just as good as me, if not better. Thoughts of the photo album and my brother are banished for the duration, because when I’m climbing I disappear into feeling, moving, doing, and there’s no room for anything else.
    We don’t talk much, but after the first pitch we alternate leading until we reach an echoing amphitheater of ice right below the last fall. We’ve made good time, and other than Drew and his partner who have already disappeared up ahead of us, the rest of our group are below us, splashy beetles on the side of the ice.
    “Easy as pie,” Adam says just as we both hear an ominous rumbling.
    “Are you trying to jinx us?” I smile though, the sheer exhilaration buzzing in my veins. “You should see the falls in the summer. It always feels strange to be here when they’re frozen and you can’t hear them, or feel that boom in your chest as the water hits the rocks. It’s like they’re holding their breath right now.”
    “Such a basic geological process like water flowing over rock creating something so beautiful that you feel it in your soul.” He waves an arm at the falls, his eyes intense with nerd passion and I swallow a giggle.
    “You’re a rock geek, aren’t you?” I ask. There are a lot of them here in the Gunks.
    He grins. “Something like that. I’m going to work as an intern for a geology firm this summer. That’s what I’m planning on majoring in.”
    “Knew it.” I roll my eyes.
    He shrugs. “My dad used to bring home rocks from all these places, and I got interested in rocks, mountains, the whole shebang. When you see a mountain, you either want to go around them, climb over them, or, I don’t know, blow holes in the side of them.” He laughs. “But the one thing you never can do is ignore them.”
    I look at him, feeling something unfurl in my chest.
    Who is this boy who has the ability to say the words I feel but never can put into words?
    I see he’s watching me, the dimple flirting in his cheek. It flusters me, makes me feel guilty, makes me think of Nick. I look away and fumble in my pack for my water bottle.
    “You ready?” I ask, after taking a gulp of water.
    “Sure,” he says.
    Does he have a girlfriend? The thought pops out of nowhere, and I frown, because it’s none of my business.
    I’ve got to stop.
    We’re all business as we talk about who should lead, and lines to follow. I’m not as gung ho about leading this time, but when he arches an eyebrow at my hesitation, I grit my teeth and say, “I’ll do it.”
    He smiles, and it’s so sweet that I just want to stand and look at him. Or strangle him. One or the other.
    I start up the final pillar, kicking the metal crampons of my boots into the ice and setting the thin ice tools. I stop for a moment when I hear a loud crack and watch a chunk of ice fall and crash onto the ground, rainbows of glittering snow puffing out like smoke.
    “Okay?” I yell down at Adam, though he had known not to stand directly beneath me. When he nods I push myself up, using the ice tools as a grip.
    About halfway to the top I realize I’m in trouble. My arms are shaking, and I’m seriously out of breath. I’ve been spending every free moment with Nick and haven’t had time to work out, and the proof is in my rubbery, quavering arms. I clip into a screw, feeling