Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Okay. I actually think I might have salvaged the day with Margot. She was pissed at me earlier, but she couldn’t seem happier with me after improvised story time. Later, when everyone is settled in for the night, I’ll ask her on a walk so we can have an honest conversation. I need to get to the bottom of whether she has genuine feelings for me or if our kiss in the laundry hut was yet another way to mess with me.
I lift our joined grip toward the night sky. “One more round of applause for our purple gorilla.” She beams at the response, and it’s time for me to let go of her hand, but I don’t. I might even tug her a little closer. “Sit tight while we pass out ingredients for s’mores. Remember, we do this youngest cabin to oldest—”
One of my campers—Killian—tugs on my sleeve, interrupting me. “You’re still showing us your Eagle Scout badges tonight, right, Dean? Greg told me to ask you.”
“Dude!” complains Greg from his seat on the log, shrinking into himself.
“Uh, yes. I’ll show you guys the badges. Later, though.”
“I’d love to see them too,” Margot says a little hesitantly.
“Uh-uh. Not her, right?” Killian says, leaning past me to look at Margot before sending me a clumsy wink. “She’s not allowed to see the badges, in case she sets them on fire or something. Right, Dean?”
Oh no.
The smile melts off Margot’s face, her gaze bouncing between me and Killian.
“Killian, let’s talk about the badges later—”
“Dean said you’re a catastrophe waiting to happen.” Killian laughs, clearly believing that Margot is going to join in and laugh at herself. Instead, she’s staring into the campfire, the flames illuminating the gathering moisture in her eyes.
“Margot, I said that yesterday morning,” I say. “It was a dumb joke.”
“Nope,” Killian says, shaking his head. “You said, ‘This is not a joke.’”
“Killian,” I say through my teeth. “Go sit down.”
Margot slips her hand out of mine, and my stomach plummets. “I-I have to run back to the cabin for something.” She’s not making eye contact with me. This is bad. “Could I have my bag back? The key is in there.”
“I didn’t mean it. You’re the furthest thing from a catastrophe.”
“Well. Maybe not the furthest thing.” She laughs, but her voice is getting thicker. Oh Jesus, I know that burr in her throat. She’s getting ready to cry. I made this beautiful girl cry. What the hell is wrong with me? “I need my bag.”
“Let me walk with you.”
“No, thank you.” She makes a grab for the drawstring bag, and this time, I have no choice but to let her take it. A few minutes ago, she was lively and mischievous. Now, she leaves the glow of the campfire circle with her head down. It would take very little encouragement to throw myself into the flames about now. I’d probably suffer less than I am right now, knowing she believes I called her a catastrophe.
“Where did Margs go?” asks Isabel, who saunters up beside me, hands on hips. “There’s about to be a lot of sticky fingers up in here, and she’s got the Wet Naps.”
“I think she’s upset. With me.” My voice sounds like a hard block of cheese being grated. “No, I know she is. I called her a catastrophe.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know. Because she usually . . . prides herself on being one. She has been driving me nuts since we were thirteen. On purpose. Now she suddenly wants to kiss me in the—”
Isabel gasps, her eyes lighting up. “She kissed you? She actually did it?”
It’s all I can think about. How she seemed to be . . . learning with me. “The point I’m trying to make is, anyone would be confused over the sudden change in her behavior. One day, she’s leaving a toad in my bed—”
“Not just any toad. The Great Basin spadefoot. Your favorite.” Something about Isabel’s relieved tone of voice, as if she’s getting a secret off her chest, stirs up a hornet’s nest in my ears. The Great Basin spadefoot is my favorite toad. I’d only seen one in my life, up until pulling back my covers and finding a second one nestled against my pillow. “She searched for that toad for a week.”
A claw hammer buries in my sternum, yanking downward. “What?”
“And the time she faked a snakebite? That might have been a bit rash, but it was your mom’s birthday, and she knew it was the only way to get you out of the cabin. Out around your friends.” She pokes me in the shoulder. “If you recall, we all ended up in the lake for a night swim, and you felt a lot better. Her plan was weird, sure, but it worked. Kind of like the time she gave you wrong directions during that scavenger hunt and—”