“ ‘I only went out for a walk,’ ” I said.

He stopped walking. “ ‘And finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in. In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks.’ ”

Jesus. This guy. “That’s some good Muir for a Pinchot fan,” I managed, so charmed I could have passed out. We continued walking.

“Well. Muir’s the better writer—I’ll give you that. Also, my dad was a ranger,” he said.

“I heard.”

“You’ve been asking about me?”

“Kira told me,” I said. “Unsolicited.”

He smiled. “Okay.”

“It’s true.”

“I’m glad you and Kira met. Kira is who you want to know. Toast connection for sure, and also her family is really nice.”

“Hey,” I said. “Will you not say anything to her? About the foster care? Not a secret, I just haven’t—I lied to her. I don’t know why.”

“Of course not. Not mine to tell.”

He meant it. I believed him. We walked.

“But just so you know, Kira wouldn’t be…Her aunt, we’re friends with her, too, she has foster kids sometimes. Little ones. How long have you…”

“Whole life.”

“Since you were born?”

I nodded. “My whole life.”

We reached the bus stop, a little wooden shelter beneath the trees. He stood and balanced his bike.

“Well,” I said. “See you tomorrow?”

“Sadly for me, no. I’m going on a trip. I’ll be gone till school starts.”

“Oh.” An unfamiliar sinking feeling. “Where?”

“Hiking. Wonderland Trail.”

“The whole thing?”

“Ninety-three miles.”

Envy. All my life, walking nearly every street in Seattle, I’ve watched Mount Rainier rise and disappear behind clouds and above the water, and I’ve wished so badly to be there. Stratovolcano on a ten-year schedule that could erupt any day. John Muir loved Rainier: “Of all the fire-mountains…along the Pacific coast, Mount Rainier is the noblest.” The Wonderland winds through those fields around Rainier’s snowy peak.

“Okay then,” I said. Jealous. And stung—gone for days? “See you when you get back.”

“When I am back, would you want to maybe come over to my house and…debate the merits of conservation versus preservation? Little Pinchot/Muir rumble?”

“No.”

His face fell.

“I’m not ‘debating’ the inherently superior merits of preservation. Conservation is half-stepping bullshit, and you know it.”

“Half stepping how?” But his smile was bright. “We’re going into Rainier at the Longmire entrance—you know, the one right at the edge of Pinchot National Forest? ‘Conservation means the wise use of the earth and its resources for the lasting good of men.’ ”

“See, now you’re just proving my point. Pinchot is proving it! For the good of men? Like Earth’s sole purpose of existing is to be a usable resource for humans? You can do better than that.”

“How do you know?”

“Just— You seem like you could.”