“Okay, Arabella,” he says, lowering his face to mine and maintaining direct eye contact. “Let’s deal with one problem at a time. Using the loo is pretty simple, really. I'll find some moss for you, then dig a little hole near a log—onewithoutfire ants—then I’ll walk away to give you some privacy. You do what you need to do, then you cover the hole and we don't ever have to talk about it again.”
I nod and sniffle. “That sounds dreadful.”
“It’s not all bad. Once we’ve dealt with that, I’ll set up the camp and feed you. I promise, you’ll feel a thousand times better once we do those things, okay?”
I sniff again and nod. “Okay.”
Wiping my cheeks, I feel my despair give way to shame. I stare at the ground, trying to compose myself. “Sorry. I don’t normally fall apart like that.”
When I finally look up at him, his face is filled with compassion. “Can I tell you something?”
I nod and dab daintily at my eyes.
“The first night is always the worst. I promise. And it really will get better from here.”
“Not if we die.”
“We’re not going to die. I won't let that happen,” he says, putting both hands on my shoulders. “Now, look around you. We are surrounded by not only one of the most beautiful and untouched places on Earth, we’re also surrounded by an abundance of food and water. You’re going to be fine, I promise.” He rubs my arms up and down reassuringly. Hmm, well that feels rather nice, actually.
“Okay.”
“I’m going to get you set up to use the loo. Then, start the fire. Then all you need to do is sit here and keep it going while I get us food. But first, let’s get you some fresh water. I’m pretty sure you’re dehydrated.” With that, he walks over a tall stalk of bamboo and with one quick slice of his machete, cuts it, then holds it sideways while he walks over to me. “Here, open your mouth.”
I do as he says, and a second later feel cool refreshing liquid pouring into my mouth. I gulp down as much as I can before I feel like I'm going to choke, then hold my hand up to let him know I need a break. He drinks some, then offers me more, which feels oddly intimate. Once the entire bamboo shoot is emptied of water, he sets it down.
“Thank you. That tasted kind of like carrots.”
He grins. “I've never noticed that. But now that you say it, I think you're right.”
Twenty minutes later, I've taken care of my biological needs, and am sitting on a rock in front of the fire, watching Will turn the bamboo stick into a spear. He describes what he's doing into the camera while he works quickly. My stomach growls and I feel weak and hungry and tired. But he was right because somehow, sitting here feels infinitely better. He disappears into the bushes for a few minutes, then comes back with the bottom of his shirt flipped up, carrying some fruit. “I thought you could use a little amuse-bouche while I make dinner.”
He crouches and unpacks the load onto the ground next to me. Holding up one of the oranges, he says, “These are monkey oranges. They have a tough outer shell, but they’re very juicy and full of vitamins. Eat up. Oh, but not the seeds. The seeds’ll kill you. I’ll see if I can get us a catfish.”
When I look up into his eyes, gone is the smug, angry attitude, and in its place is kindness. Something about it makes me feel much worse about my tirade. And about giving him a hard time in the first place when, in reality, I’m making his life much harder. “Thank you,” I say with a smile.
“Don’t mention it.”
Reaching out, I touch his hand, which is resting on his knee. “No, really. Thank you. I’m sorry I imposed myself on you like this.”
“That’s okay. If you hadn’t applied, it could have been someone much worse.”
“Like that woman who stalks you online?”
His head snaps back. “Who?”
“She has a website dedicated to you. She and your fellow groupies call themselves Will’s Wild Fangirls.”
A look of understanding crosses his face. “Oh, right.Them.”
Nodding, I say, “The head super fan applied for the show.”
He smiles at me. “I suppose I should be happy I’m not stuck out here with her.”
“Yes, she seems like the type to go totalFatal Attractionon you.”
“Good thing I don’t have a pet bunny.” He chuckles and stands. “Will you be okay for a bit while I go down to the river?”
I nod, and for the first time since this morning, I believe I will be.
