11. Paralyzed

                                    

                                          
Seth bought Shonice and my dinner, so in return, I offered to share my canoe with him—since I couldn't really afford to rent him his own. I didn't tell him that though. In his mind, he probably just thinks I'm sharing mine as a ploy to get closer to him. In truth, that's just one of the perks of being completely broke.
                          
The moon is brighter tonight than it was the night the boys and I went hiking, for which I'm grateful. And since we're floating down a river that only goes north and south, the chances of getting lost are slim. I mean, that's what I tell myself as we drift along the shimmery water with nothing but the buzzing of crickets along the banks to keep us company. Truth be told, I could get lost standing still.
                          
"So, for our next canoeing adventure, we're all heading to Costa Rica." I'm laying down, head resting on one side of the canoe while my legs dangle over the other, skimming the water as we glide.
                          
"I'm in," Shonice practically moans from where she's drifting beside us. She sounds half asleep.
                          
"Why Costa Rica?" Seth asks, resting his arms on his knees as he watches the tree line.
                          
"Because," I tell them, "they have bioluminescent canoeing tours. The water lights up when you paddle. Looks super cool."
                          
"I could be down for that," Seth agrees, leaning back and resting his elbows on the bow of the canoe as he stretches his legs out in front of him. He bumps one of the oars and nearly knocks it in the water. I don't think I would have minded if he did. There are worse people to be stranded in a river with, but Seth makes sure to give himself a hard time for almost 'ruining our adventure'. 
                          
We all grow silent for several minutes as we coast peacefully around the bends and slopes in the river. I let out a breath, allowing the stresses of school to slip away for a few minutes. Not that I have many stresses, but the quiet has a way of burrowing its way into a person and forcing out all other concerns. Right now nothing else exists. Just me, Seth, Shonice, and our little canoes. 
                          
I close my eyes, the lapping of water against the hull soothing me to sleep. An occasional wave will slap at my feet, the chill of it startling me for a moment before I manage to relax into the body of the canoe again. Cicadas sing their powerful songs as they sit tucked in the shadows. The moon is just shy of displaying its full glory as it reflects against the ripples, its light barely detectable against my closed eyelids.
                          
It's dark, quiet, and rejuvenating. 
                          
Then something brushes against my hip and I jolt out of my serenity. 
                          
"Sorry," Seth whispers, pulling his foot away from me and shifting to get comfortable.
                          
We don't have a whole lot of space in our boat, especially for a six-foot-tall muscly dude with long legs. I'm wondering if he's experienced any level of enjoyment out here or if he's just counting down the minutes until the next dock comes into view and we can catch the bus back to our vehicle. 
                          
Glancing in his direction, I see the glistening of his eyes as he stares up at the sky. His arms are crossed, and while he seems to be in deep thought, the constant tapping of his thumb against his bicep makes me wonder if he's more agitated by this outing than enchanted. I try to pull myself back into the stillness but when his foot bumps against my hip again the tranquility is lost.
                          
I wait for another apology, but he doesn't say anything. Neither does he pull his foot away and I glance down to see it pressed against my side. For a moment, I wonder if he's managed to fall asleep or something, but when my eyes land on his face, I find he's still staring at the stars. The only change is the grip he has around his upper arms. With just the moon's light, I can't make out anything but dark and light shadows, but it's safe to assume that by the amount of force in his grip, his knuckles have lost all color. He's clenching his bicep so hard that it looks painful.