Chalk

3

I went as far as the path would take me, wanting to be as alone as possible for the first attempt at something I was sure to have no talent in. I certainly didn’t want anyone else to witness my uncertainty and I found a nice-sized rock in a secluded glade of trees, the forest quiet around me. It wasn’t nearly as big as the rock those guys had been climbing, but I was a lot smaller than they were and it still looked enormous above me. I dropped my backpack and settled beside it, struggling into my shoes with more than a few muttered expletives. I swear these were made for someone half my age, my toes all scrunched up in the pointed front.

The guy at the outdoor store had sold me a plastic bag of chalk, even though it looked more like some illegal drug substance, and a little pouch to keep it in. I knew that climbers used chalk to keep their hands dry and had even seen the evidence of that on the way, but I had no idea exactly how to use it. I dumped some of the contents of the plastic bag into the little pouch and dunked my hands inside, coating them in white.

Looking like a damn junkie if you asked me

It took me more than a few moments to work up the courage to do what I’d actually come out here to do. I stood there on trembling legs, wringing my hands for a while before I told myself to get a grip and  put my hand to the rock. It was warm, almost pulsing with heat and I drew my hand back in surprise, thinking for a moment that the rock had actually been breathing. That it might actually be alive, and I’d accidentally awakened some forest creature-hybrid that was mythically large and could eat me in one bite.

The rock didn’t move.

I tried again, still a little shocked at the heat under my palm. I found one of the white patches and slipped my fingers into it, just above my head. The rock was grainy, rough under my fingertips and I could almost feel the hand prints left behind by others. I found another hand hold and then one for my foot. As soon as I lifted my second foot off the ground, my fingers dug reflexively into the rock, the instinctual fear that I was going to fall holding me firmly in place. I took a deep gulping breath and readjusted my foot-hold, peering down the small space between the rock and my body, pressed up against it like I was one of those lichens. There was another foot hold nearer to my hip and I lifted my leg unnaturally to set the pointed toe of my shoe into it. They were biting painfully into my ankles, but I guess I could see the point of little tiny shoes if you’re trying to stuff your feet into little tiny cracks. I looked for another hold above my head and there it was, just waiting for my fingers. I managed to scramble up the rock three more holds before i made the mistake of looking down.

Oh, shit.

The ground was so fucking far away and my palms went instantly clammy.  I’d left my little chalk bag on the ground and realized with a moment of panic that I needed it right about now. My fingers were slowly giving way, now that they were coated in a thin sheen of dread and they scraped painfully against the rock. I could feel the layers of skin being left behind. I tried to grip harder, but there was just nothing there to hold onto. I lost my grip entirely and tried hard not to think about my landing.

“Woah there.”

I was suddenly off the rock, but still not on the ground. Hyper aware of two big biceps on either side of mine and hot breath on my neck in a chuckle. I was set back down on my feet, legs trembling even worse than before and looked up to find the shirtless-guy unwrapping his arms from around me.

“Thank you,” I stuttered, fully aware that my body wasn’t broken right now because of him.

He eyed my fingers. “Chalk. Every time. Or at least every other time, until you build up some calluses.”

I glared at my fingers, hating them for not having calluses. He bent and plucked my chalk bag from the ground, stepping forward to tie it around my waist and his naked-ass chest was right there in front of my face. I blinked at his biceps, astounded that muscles could look like that. I fully understood why, considering that every muscle in my own body was burning from the exertion.

Was it the exertion?

“You don’t have a crash pad?” he asked, his eyebrow quirked and his hair falling across his forehead. I wanted to push it out of the way, but was blaming that impulse on the near-death experience he’d just saved me from. I was obviously light headed.

“A what?” I shook my head up at him, confused and trying to remember my name, in case he asked that too.

“A crash pad,” he grinned at me. “Big squishy thing? Breaks your fall?”

“Well, no, but that sounds helpful,” I grumbled and looked at the ground, suddenly aware that the area below where I wanted to climb was just as hard and rocky as all the rest of it.

“What are you doing out here, Sparkles?” He shook his head in amazement, as though I was really some forest fairy who had no right to be climbing rocks. I’m sure I looked as out of place as I felt.

“What did you call me?”

“You have glitter all over your face,” he chuckled even though I was sort of scowling at him.

“Alice,” I growled and smashed my hands to my face, rubbing vigorously and, sure enough, when I pulled away there was glitter all over my palms. It was probably from when she hugged me this morning and told me not to break myself. That little fucking fairy was gonna pay.

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