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you hit the rapids, then you hold on for dear life. The first set
of rapids weren’t bad. They were a class two. We paddled, we stopped paddling,
we held on, the water splashed in our faces…but we all made it.
    The second one was a class four. Since one of the other
boats was only a minute ahead of us, we could see them in the distance. They
went over the rapids and—BAM! Rori-Ann and Britney went over the side. Max and
Kristin took pictures.
    And then it was our turn. We paddled and paddled and hold
on, hold on to the yellow rope, and then we were zooming—
    The next thing I knew I was flying headfirst out of the boat
and into the rocky water.
    My life flashed before my eyes. My dog, Becca, my mother. My
mother who was going to kill me if the rocks didn’t. Tommy.
    Tommy?
    Once I hit the subzero water, and realized that I was still
alive, I caught my breath and spotted the panicked look on Becca’s face. Then I
saw that Tommy was hanging out of the raft, trying to grab on to me. The guide
was yelling at him in both French and English to sit down, and motioning for me
to swim to a shallower area.
    “I’m okay!” I sang out.  And I was. Cold, but fine.
    But is my fall responsible for my hospital visit?
    Nope.
    The guide hoisted me back into the raft.
    “Are you all right?” Becca and Tommy asked simultaneously.
    I nodded yes, my teeth chattering.
    “Did zat hurt?” he asked, quickly warming me up by wrapping
his arm around me.
    “A little,” I said, hoping he would not move his arm. EVER.
    “You’re shivering,” he said, rubbing my shoulders.
    “Cold in there.”
    “Yes, but we will be chaud in hot springs next.”
    “Right,” I said. That was the next stop for today. I didn’t
know exactly what hot springs were, but I was guessing they were like some sort
of natural hot tub. Hot tubbing with Pierre? Sounded good to me.
    When we were done, we unsnapped our jackets, took off our
helmets, picked up our paddles, and walked back to the boathouse. Becca was
beside me, red cheeked and laughing, when she clucked her tongue. “Penny with a
Y hooked up with my brother on Bastille Day and on the train. How gross is
that?”
    And that’s when the paddle slipped out of my hand, landed on
my foot and sent me to the hospital.
    When it first landed, I howled in pain.
    Joanna ran over.
    “I’ll be fine,” I told her. “This happens all the time.”
    She crouched in front of me. “I think we need to go to the
hospital,” she said.
    “No!” I whined. “It’s my middle toe. There’s nothing they
can do. Trust me, I’ve broken it twice already.”
    “Maybe,” Joanna said. “But we’re legally responsible to get
it checked out. I can’t have your parents suing me.”
    “They won’t! I promise!” If they’ll blame anyone, it’ll be
me. “I’m sure I’ll feel much better once I soak my foot in the hot springs.”
    “No way,” Joanna said, shaking her head. “You guys go on
ahead to the springs. We’ll see you back on the lodge.”
    The shuttle bus dropped us off. Us being me and Joanna.
    No hot springs for me. And no Pierre either. I convinced him
that the rest of the group would need his translation skills more than I would.
This was humiliating enough without him being there.
    So now Joanna and I are sitting on plastic chairs in the
waiting room. My foot is shoeless and resting on the seat beside me. Two of my
toes are bright blue. It’s not pretty.
    “Poor you,” she says.
    “C’est la vie,” I say, with a sigh. I’m used to it.
    Four hours later
    My foot isn’t broken—but one of my middle toes is. And
just like I said, there’s nothing they can do for it either, except wrap it to
the big one and hope for the best.
    I missed the hot springs. I missed dinner too. When I got
back to the lodge (hungry, cranky, and in pain) I unlocked my door and walked
in on Becca and Harold making out.
    I slammed the door.
    “Sorry, hold on one sec!” Becca yelled.
    I waited. And waited. And