“Trail project?” Kyara asked.
Crystal grunted from in front of the mirror, where she was already reapplying her eye shadow now that work was done.
“Yeah,” said Crystal. “The Old Mill Road trail? That’s where everyone is tonight. They’re all out working on restoring the trail.”
“Why?” ask Kyara. She had a pretty good idea why she was tempted to go, but not why everyone in town might head out.
Crystal paused from puckering her lips, black lipstick poised between her fingers.
“Oh, OK, the story: like a hundred years ago or something the only way into or out of town was the Old Mill Road, which led past, d’uh, the old mill. Although I guess at that point it wasn’t the old mill, it was just the mill, or something. Anyway, after they ran the highway through Bradford during the depression or whatever, it was easier to attach a road nearer to that, and the Old Mill Road just kinda dried up ‘cause no one used it anymore.
“Anyway, a bunch of people in town are trying to restore it as, like, a hiking and snowmobiling path and stuff. They figure it’ll be a good community project, plus bring in the tourists.”
Kyara turned this information over in her head.
“I thought no one liked the tourists around here?” she asked.
Crystal snorted.
“No one will admit it, but the area needs the tourists to survive. We wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves if we couldn’t sell maple crap and pictures of leaves to people up from the city. So they’ll pretend that it’s a ‘community restoration project,’ but you better believe it’s to bring in the tourist dollars.”
Crystal went back to turning herself back into the county’s only goth while Kyara contemplated her, admittedly cynical, take on the situation.
I wonder how many black tourists come through. It may be harder to hide here than I thought.
It would be easier if I had more friends. Plus, it’s getting really lonely.
“Well,” Kyara said at last, “If that’s where everyone is, I guess I might as well head up there, too. You can head home, and thank you for the information.”
Crystal shrugged. “It’s whatever. Just look for them behind the general store. The guy leading it, is, um ..."
Kyara thought she knew where this was going.
"Tall," Kyara filled in. "Green eyes, big arms?"
Crystal nodded, looking relieved.
"A totally hottie." the teen agreed. "Sometime he comes in to talk in my elective class when school's in. It's pretty much drool-thirty when he comes in.”
Wow, she kinda called it, Kyara admitted to herself.
Kyara watched her young employee leave. Crystal probably wasn’t actually going to go home. She had been straightforward about not wanting to spend more time with her mom, her mom’s boyfriend, really, than was strictly necessary. It was why she didn’t mind working long hours. Still, she was a good kid.
Kyara walked over and flipped over the sign in the window from “Open” to “Closed” and went upstairs to change.
In a surprisingly short amount of time, Kyara found herself in t-shirt and jeans walking out behind the general store. It was still light out, but the evening had settled into its usual pattern of hums, buzzes, and the whisper of leaves.
For the first month she’d been here, she’d lain awake at night. The insect-filled night was both too loud and not nearly loud enough. Now, though, Kyara could almost sleep without straining for the sound of cars, buildings, and people all around her.
I might actually be getting used to being here.
The path was as obvious as Crystal had promised. Not only was it a clear break in the trees, but someone had pounded a hand-painted sign in at the head.
“Old Mill Road. 18.2 Miles to Bradford.”
The tall grass leading up to the trailhead was neatly mowed, creating an easy walkway. Kyara followed it, straining for the sound of voices or the crack of branches. If there was anything, though, it was far away.
Studying the space around her cautiously, Kyara started walking, taking the time to look over the trail. From what little she knew, it looked good to her. She could see the places where the trees had been trimmed back and carefully treated with some sort of mixture over the exposed insides of the branches. It was almost picture-perfect against the background of rolling hills and the trickling of the river.