There’s something in Dean’s expression that makes my stomach tie up into knots. His eyes flit over every part of my face, as if looking for something. An answer. I’m not sure what his question is, so I keep my features neutral. Dean meets my gaze, then he shuts his eyes briefly.
“I think I saw somebody up there. Maybe one of the other campers,” he says. “Figured we should show everyone we’re still on good terms after the challenge.”
For some reason, my stomach dips. “Right. That’s smart.” He is smart. That’s why we’re allies.
I glance over my shoulder to check, though, and don’t see anyone.
Silence falls over us as we watch the sun dip all the way down. It’s not until several minutes later, when I’m thinking of breaking the quiet to suggest we head back, that footsteps sound on the dock behind us.
I turn around and squint to make out who it is in the rapidly dimming twilight. It’s Vendredi, clad in a swimsuit.
“Hey, lovebirds, why are you still dry?” She stops just in front of us and points at Dean. “Can you not swim?”
“No, I can, technically. Not well, but—AH!”
She pushes him over the ledge, and he falls back into the water with a terrific splash. Dean bobs up a second later, looking like a drowned rat. I burst into laughter. He watches me, and his frown smooths out.
Vendredi opens her arms for me. “Hey, come here.”
I stand and warily embrace her. I relax when she rocks us back and forth. “Are you doing better now?” Vendredi says in my ear, her concern palpable.
“Yeah.” It’s nice to be able to answer honestly. She hums and gives me a big squeeze.
“I’m so glad.” Then she pulls us both over the edge.
The frigid water swallowing my body is enough to reset my nervous system. I surface with a gasp, then laugh so hard I nearly inhale lake water. The burn in my lungs is the first ache in my chest today that’s felt good. Really good.
Footnotes
1. Sorry.
2. What are you saying?
34
I’M SO LOVESICK, I MIGHT HURL
DEAN
What Seyoon confided in me yesterday doesn’t leave my mind. I tossed and turned all night thinking about it until she kicked my mattress from below. I try to enjoy the day off we have while the crew sets up the next challenge, but even when she dragged me out to play cards with her in the sun and go on a walk with Vendredi, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
God. She’s undersomuch pressure. No wonder she’s that competitive. If I don’t win, life goes on. If Seyoon doesn’t? Life as she knows it will be over. She could lose her home, her family. Honestly, I can’t believe she’s kept it under wraps this long. For a girl who loves the sound of her own voice, she always shies away from talking about the important things. Or, maybe, the things she’s scared people will judge her for.
I realize I’m being quieter than usual when, at lunch, it distracts Seyoon and Vendredi away from their spirited debate about which camper would be most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse. Beck would have liked this conversation. I was voted first to perish, by the way.
“What’s up with the long face?” Vendredi asks me.
“That’s just his face,” Seyoon says.
“No, his face is usually like this.” She pulls a small frown and pushes down on her forehead to fix her eyebrows in a crabby, unimpressed stare. Seyoon snorts. I scowl, then stop when I realize I’m making that face.
“Nothing’s up,” I say, looking for an excuse. “I’m just wondering how much more salad Seyoon will cram into her mouth before she chokes.”
Seyoon grins around the fork of lettuce in her mouth but swallows before speaking this time. “Aw, you care about me.”
“Obviously I—” I shut my mouth so hard, my teeth click. I wet my lips. “I just want you to stop spitting little leaf pieces at me.”
Seyoon rolls her eyes but does finish eating before diving back into survival rankings. I watch the way her lips wrap around the fork and rub my eyes until I see spots.
