Then he turns to face the room, where everyone is now awake and unabashedly staring at him. He brushes a lock of sweaty hair from his forehead.
“What?” he says.
Troy is the first to speak.
“What do you meanwhat?” he says. “Are you in Cirque du Soleil?”
Will smiles, but it’s dangerously close to being a smirk. He turns his head sideways to crack his neck in a way that sounds painful.
“Stillness is death,” he says.
He waits for this to sink in. It doesn’t seem to.
“For the body,” he says. “You guys might as well be eating a bag of doughnuts and mainlining a milkshake, lying there like that.”
“That would be more fun than listening to you,” says Fran, who emerges, having seemingly slept in her hoodie, though now there are some strands of faded pink hair sticking out. “Also, have you everhada doughnut? They’re really good.”
Will rolls his eyes. He turns around to go, and that’s when you finally hear Diana’s voice from the back of the lodge.
“Hey,” she says. “What’s a NARP?”
Her voice is softer than you remember, but it still cuts through the room with some of its old power.
“What?” says Will.
“You called Case a NARP. I don’t know what that is. Can you tell me, please?”
His jaw flexes.
“A NARP,” he says, “is a non-athletic regular person.”
Then he smiles again.
“So, you know: basically all of you.”
His sleeping bag is rolled so tight it looks like it might implode from the pressure.
“Says the guy who couldn’t outrun Silas,” says Diana.
If this makes Will angry, it doesn’t register on his face.
“It’s not terrain I’m used to,” he says plainly. “And I didn’t have the right shoes. Otherwise, I would be gone, bro. Believe me.”
“Why did you come here, then?” you ask before you can think better of it.
He’s quiet for a few beats.
“His dad tricked him,” says Fran.
Will shoots her a death glare.
“Sorry, man,” she says. “I saw you in the parking lot. Your dad lied to you. I heard you yelling at him. That’s super messed up.”
“Wait,” says Troy. “Where did you think you were going?”
For a moment, Will seems to consider answering. Then the vulnerability in his face disappears. His brow smooths.
“At least I didn’t choose to be here,” he says. “At least I have an excuse. You guys brought this on yourselves.”
