Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Joe stood too, much more unsteadily than their mom. Renzo’s breath caught like it always did when he saw him. Their faces were close enough to almost be twins, but Renzo was taller and more built, Joe both softer and skinnier, product of years of eating difficulties and intense physical therapy. Joe had thick glasses and wore a Star Wars T-shirt that Renzo had sent at Christmas.
“Renzo!” His mom scooped him into a tight hug before turning a critical eye on him. “You look good.”
“Told you I was fine.” He hugged her back. “This is Canaan.”
Introductions were made all around, with his dad rousing himself long enough to shake hands and his mom surprising poor Canaan with a hug. However, Canaan handled it with ease, complimenting her shirt and hair. She and her friends at the salon were always trying new things—this current style was a shaggy dark pixie with reddish highlights that made her look younger than usual. His hair would be just as fluffy and thick if not for product, something Canaan liked to tease him about after showers.
But he couldn’t go thinking about Canaan and showers when he was around his parents. They headed to the restaurant, and Renzo made sure to sit next to Joe at the round table to give his mom a break from needing to help him with his food. The restaurant had a cozy sort of homey vibe with soft lighting and a lot of folklore art. The menu included a lot of Disney-themed offerings.
“Did Renzo really save you?” Joe asked after they’d ordered. Like his gait, Joe’s voice was unsteady, full of lots of stops and starts.
“Yup.” Canaan nodded emphatically, then seemed to remember what Renzo had said about downplaying the risks. “But it wasn’t that bad. A little cold maybe, but we were still close to the trail—the rescue team found us pretty easily. Especially thanks to Renzo knowing how to do a signal fire and stuff.”
“A real fire?” Joe leaned forward, eyes going wide. “Too bad no marshmallows.” He laughed at his own joke, and Canaan did too.
“Man, I would have given a lot for a hot dog to roast right about then. Not that we were starving,” Canaan added quickly, obviously trying to walk the line between impressing Joe and not scaring Renzo’s mom. “We had some food with us.”
“Where did you sleep?” Joe asked. Now that was a tricky question—Renzo wasn’t sure he was ready to admit that they’d cuddled all night, but he also didn’t want to outright lie and upset Canaan.
“On the rocks,” Canaan answered easily for him. “No sleeping bags, but we had those space blanket things. It wasn’t too bad.”
“Still. Sounds awful. Hiking’s just so dangerous,” Renzo’s mom fretted. And really, if she thought hiking was dangerous, she should take a look at what Renzo did on simply an ordinary day of training. But he didn’t say that.
“We were all right, Mom. Promise.”
Their food came then, big platters of breakfast. Renzo helped Joe cut his pancakes and sausage before attacking his own giant omelet and fruit, grateful the food interrupted the discussion about the hiking trip. Canaan seemed to sense his need to change the topic and asked Joe if he liked music and told him about the band.
“Wow. A real band. I like drums.” Joe took painstaking bites of his food, each movement a challenge that made Renzo’s jaw hurt.
“Me too.” Canaan told him some G-rated stories about the band’s travels and about what it was like to be a drummer while Renzo’s mom quizzed him about his latest training. He told her about the dives they’d been doing, glossing over the parts he didn’t like.
After breakfast they headed to the park’s main entrance. They’d already arranged for a disability access pass for Joe that would make their day easier, and since he tired so easily with walking long distances a challenge, they’d also reserved a wheelchair rental for him.
Joe put up a minor fuss about the chair. “I don’t need it.”
“It’ll let us see more,” his mom said. “You remember from last time, right? You didn’t mind it then.”
“Yeah, but I’m not a baby.” Joe stared down the chair like it was an unwelcome frog. “I feel bad, making Renzo push me all over.”
“Maybe Renzo and I can take turns,” Canaan suggested. “And dude, I’m excited about your pass. Fewer lines are an awesome thing. I’m going to see about getting one of those for Grandpa if I bring him again. He likes the parades and light shows.”
“I like parades too.” Seemingly satisfied, Joe settled into the chair. “Okay, we can go. Frontierland first?”
“Sure. It’s your day.” Every time they visited, Joe always wanted to do Frontierland so he could watch Renzo’s shooting skills and try it himself. They made their way down the main drag to the shooting game, and sure enough, Joe was all about Renzo shooting.