Halfway down the hill, Glacia stops. She puts a finger to her lips and taps her ear. We hold eye contact and listen. Chirps and buzzes and crunches drift around us. Leaves rustle and branches creak. At one point, large insect with blue and green wings whizzes past us and settles on a pointy white flower, then zooms away to a different flower. We watch two birds dart from tree to tree, fluttering over and around each other until their tweets get lost in the trees.

Glacia swings our hands between us, and then we trek farther into the forest. The path levels out around the next bend. A steady rushing sound reaches our ears, and it isn’t long before we see what’s causing it. The trees end near the edge of a river. We’ve come to the ravine I saw from the top of the hill, a steep wall of rock that rises at least two hundred feet above the river. Fallen trees and boulders stick out of the water, and a waterfall surges over a steep cliff. Moss blankets the rocks and mounds of dirt and trunks of trees, and when Glacia touches it, her finger squishes right through.

“That’s so weird.” She stares at the water lapping against the dirt and pebbles. “Want to go in?”

I motion at our clothes. We aren’t wearing our uniforms, but still.

“Um…”

“Oh, come on.”

Glacia sits and starts taking off her shoes. I give in and take mine off, too. I’ve learned it’s just best to follow her lead.

She grabs my hand and half-drags me to the shore. We both gasp when our feet touch the water: it’s freezing. Inch by inch, we step farther in. I slip over rocks but learn to hold my footing. I’m ankle-deep…then calf-deep…then knee-deep.

A wall of water blasts me in the face, soaking my whole front and sending violent shivers down my spine.

“Ohhhhh that’s cold.”

“It wouldn’t be cold if you came out here.”

Glacia splashes me again, this time drenching my hair.

“You are not funny, Glace.” I hold my hands in the air. “Just give me a—”

I slip on a rock and plunge below the surface. The water swallows me and every inch of my skin feels iced over. I manage to regain my footing and burst above the surface gasping for air, teeth chattering. Glacia, however, is laughing and swishing her arms in the water.

I point at her. “You know what? Come here.”

She sticks out her tongue and backs away. The river rises above our stomachs, making walking difficult. It’s harder for her because she’s shorter, so I lunge forward and grab her shoulders. She squirms to escape, but the effort is useless: I’m wrapped around her arms.

“No, Arman. No no NO!”