The fishing crash course goes on for ten minutes before he tells us to push our non-canoes out into the water. We might get a little wet. I’m wearing leggings that are too tight to roll up, so that’s unfortunate.

I get out of my boat, walk to the end farthest up the beach, brace myself against it, and push. My hands fall as a spike of pain jolts up my spine.

For a moment I consider asking for help. But I don’t want to talk to Zarar, or anyone else, any more than absolutely necessary. I reposition myself, concentrating on keeping my core tight as I push forward. It takes a moment, but this time the boat moves forward an inch, and then another, carving a path through the sand.

The triumph of pain-free progress is unexpectedly rewarding. I follow Zarar’s directions and shove until ninety percent of the canoe is in the water before climbing in. It dips slightly as I gingerly situate myself facing the land.

I did it! For a second, I think I feel a smile coming on, but the urge dissipates as I catch sight of neon orange hair bouncing toward the beach.

Creepy shower girl is sprinting toward the area. She’s headed straight for me because the only empty boat is to my right. Please don’t talk to me.

I frantically pick up my oars, drop them into place, and heave away from shore. I’m still a little grounded so the boat only moves a couple of inches. I push harder.

“Sier! Wait up!” Shower Girl screams as she closes in.

Sier? Like we’re on a one-syllable basis?!

I look over at the other retreaters, all calmly mounting their now-floating boats. Gosh darn it.

She’s gonna be here in literally a second! She’s tying the top half of her bright orange deep brown ombré bird’s nest into a fountain on the crown of her head as she runs. I press with everything I have into the dirt with the oars.

Come on boat, move!

With a thunk, I find open water. YES! I exhale a sigh of relief as the boat floats into the lake.

The girl stops short at the edge of the water where I pushed off.

“Dude, come on. I asked you to wait!” She’s wearing the same tacky red overalls and pink crop T-shirt as yesterday. And a blue nose ring. Absolutely nothing matches. She’s wearing yellow boots.

I glare at her as my boat drifts out into the open water.

Zarar calls to her from down the shoreline. “There’s a canoe for you one down!” He starts walking in our direction.

Shower Girl glances at him—and walks straight into the lake.

Oh no.

“Hey! Stop!” Zarar calls out from the shore.

“What are you doing?” I yelp. I’m ten feet out.