It is, technically, a NO TRESPASSING sign.
“Silas,” she says, still staring at the sign. “Where are we going?”
“The sign’s just kidding,” I tell her.
“Looks serious to me.”
“It’s only for show.”
“All signs are for show, Silas, they’re signs. Am I gonna get arrested?”
I run one hand through my hair, damp with sweat, and lean against the tree.
“Probably not,” I tell her. “I never have been.”
Finally, she looks over at me, annoyance and curiosity and something else playing out across her face.
“You’ll like it,” I tell her, and open the chain link again. I feel the thrill of victory when she squeezes through the hole, and then we’re on the other side and I take her hand. She looks down at them, then up at me, and laughs.
“What?” I ask.
“What the hell am I doing?” she says.
“Having an adventure.”
“I’m gonna get arrested for river crimes in a weird forest,” she says. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”
“Because you needed to do something besides stress out and follow rules.”
“I do lots of other things!”
I have to let her hand go when we walk through the underbrush, but after another fifty feet, we come out into a gravel-lined clearing with a huge brick building in the middle, and we both stop. There’s no one else for miles, nothing but the forest, the river, the fence, this ruin. No one to perform for or worry about, just this secret place where I used to come sometimes in high school to smoke weed.
“Here we are,” I say, and Kat looks up at it, lips parting slightly. I take her hand again.
“Where’s here?” she asks.