“It’s cool.” Reeve manages a smile, but I can barely make it out in the dark. “We’ve got this.”
The tension in my chest eases a little more.
“But what about you?” Reeve presses. “I heard it got pretty ugly with Olivia.”
I shrug, resigned. “I think . . . I think we’re done. I mean, I can’t ever forgive her, not for this.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice is low, sincere. A moment later, I feel his hand reach for mine. I pull back, but he takes it, firmly.
I look at Fiona, just a bobbing flash of light ahead of us. “I said I didn’t want to sneak around anymore,” I whisper. It all seems trivial after the dramas of the night, but I want to stand my ground.
“Does it look like I’m sneaking?” Reeve answers me in a normal voice. “Hey, Fiona,” he adds, calling ahead. “Just so you know, I’m holding Jenna’s hand back here!”
My mouth drops open.
“Whatever!” she calls back, bored.
“See?” He smiles at me again.
“What changed your mind?” I ask, trying to stay cool. But the feel of his body next to mine is warm and comforting, and after all this tension, it’s a relief to relax against him.
“I was worried about you,” he says, self-conscious. “When they said you took off into the forest. I was dumb, before.” A pause. “I didn’t want it to get messed up, like it did with Kate, so maybe . . . maybe I went too far, with the secret thing. I really thought you were OK with it. I’m sorry.”
I meet his eyes, black in the shadows, and manage a smile. It doesn’t mean much in the big picture, I know — just a few more days of kisses — but in another way, it’s everything. I matter enough to him.
“OK,” I say softly.
When we reach the road again, the B and B is lit up, full of warm light. Noise and music drift over to us, and through the windows, I can see people laughing. After the dark chill of the forest, it looks like a haven. A home.
Fiona waits for us to catch up. “So what’s our story?”
Reeve looks around. “I figure we can just say we went out for an adventure. You know, a moonlit hike for Jenna, or something.”
“And Ethan and Grady stayed behind,” I agree, “to . . . I don’t know, clean up.”
Fiona shakes her head. “You guys are terrible liars.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” I protest. She smiles.
“Lucky you’ve got me around.”
“Truly blessed.” I link my arm through hers.
“So, official version,” she begins, as we cross the dirt road. “We’re having a sleepover at the Johnsons’ tonight, to get out of Susie’s hair. Ethan and Grady are back there, setting up, and we’re just going to pick up our night things.”
“That is a good story,” Reeve agrees, on my other side. He’s still holding my hand, even as we climb the porch steps and open the door to the packed, raucous party. “We should do it for real. Their parents will probably hang out here for ages. And we should be around, you know, for Ethan.”
“What about Olivia?” I venture. “I can’t just leave her with Adam and Susie — they don’t deserve that.”
“It’s fine,” Fiona says, shooting me a sympathetic look. “She was locked in the bedroom, the last I saw, ranting on the phone to some guy about how destructive and thoughtless we all are. She’s good until morning. My plan is still perfect.”
“OK, OK!” I agree, smiling for what seems like the first time all night. All around us, people are full of celebration, and even though the past few hours have been tragic, stressful, and scary, it feels as though all of that is finally behind us. “You are the undisputed queen of deception. We bow at your lying, sneaky feet.”
“Better believe it.” Fiona grins, smug. “Now, where is that ice cream . . . ?”
We sleep on the floor in the Johnsons’ basement, overlapping like puppies in a tangle of blankets and sleeping bags. But as soon as I open my eyes, woken by Fiona’s sleeping mumbles, I know what I need to do.
I slip on my sandals and creep up the stairs, careful not to wake anyone. Ethan is lying curled in the corner, worn out from his stress — and the three episodes of that sci-fi series I insisted we watch, with brownies and ice cream, after he and Grady slouched back from the lake. I don’t know what happened, but it seems like things are OK between them again, a grudging kind of peace. It can only get better.
The route back to the B and B is pale in the early morning light, with birds singing in the trees and a glow from the sun still hanging low over the mountains. I breathe in the crisp air, trying to savor every step as if it’s my last.
Because right now, I think it is. I don’t know yet about the internship I’ll get here next summer, working with the tourism board to promote eco-friendly travel in British Columbia; I haven’t seen the small, cute apartment Mom and me will move to, or Dad’s place in Sweden, where I’ll spend Christmas, stringing sugar cookies to the tree and eating local smorgasbord. I don’t know yet about the new friends I’ll make in photography class, or how the Green Teens will fall into anarchy after Olivia handcuffs herself to Principal Turner and swallows the key, ranting about corporate control of the social studies syllabus.
No, all of that is still ahead of me, so I can’t help but feel sad as I let myself into the silent house, using the key hidden under the ceramic turtle on the porch. There’s debris in every room: cups stacked in haphazard towers, streamers, and partly deflated balloons. I retrieve my cell phone from my room, and, wrapped in that snug blanket of mine, I settle down on the back porch to make the call.
“Hi . . . Mom?” I can’t remember the last time I talked to her — really talked. Because I’m scared of what she’ll have to say, and of what will come after, when the talking’s done. I don’t know yet that everything will turn out OK, for all of us, but even so, I curl my legs up under me and brace myself for the future. I’ve faced down white-water rapids, a wild bear, and even Fiona this summer; I can do this.
“I’m ready for that talk.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to my marvelous agent, Rosemary, for all your help on the climb. To Liz, Mara, Kaylan, Tracy, Jennifer, and all at Candlewick and Walker for your commitment and support. Thanks to my family, and the Canadian contingent for the hospitality (especially Uncle Don, for getting me up — and down — that mountain!). Thanks to Dom P. for all your patience and help, Narmada T. for the positivity, and Elisabeth D, as always, for everything.
ABBY MCDONALD is the author of the acclaimed novel Sophomore Switch. She graduated from Oxford University in 2006 with a degree in politics, philosophy, and economics. An entertainment critic turned full-time author, Abby McDonald divides her time between Montreal and her hometown in Sussex, England.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
/> Chapter Thirty-six
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Boys, Bears, and A Serious Pair of Hiking Boots Page 22
