“Why not?” says Will.
“Well, he barely took that thing off. It was practically a part of his head. Why not a note or something if this is all just a game? Why not a note that said,Watch out for bears?”
In the humidity, Diana’s dark curls are frizzing out, and without a hair tie she looks like she’s always lived in these woods. Like she might have a little gnome cabin on the other side of the lake.
“Yeah,” says Fran. “And what’s he doing anyway? Just, like, staying one step ahead of us and watching from the woods while animals rampage through our campsite? Somebody could have been killed. What kind of game is that?”
“It’s not a game,” says Troy.
He says it softly, but everyone hears him. It’s possible he commands more attention now that he scared off the bear. He’s still shirtless, and he stares down at the hat, his fist still clenched around your whisk. He looks even skinnier than he did before, like a day or two without proper meals is enough to send him to the brink of starvation.
“Troy, dude. You’re the one who brought it up in the first place. We’re troubled teens. These things are messed up, right? This is all part of it.”
Troy sighs. You wait for him to get in Will’s face again. But instead, he just reaches down and pulls something out of his pocket.It takes a second for you to realize what it is. It’s clear and a dark orange color. And when you finally see that it’s a pill bottle, you feel your mouth fall open. Before anyone can ask a question, he says:
“I found it yesterday when we set up camp.”
He hands it to Fran, and when she turns it over, you can see her name there in tiny letters.FRANCES DEAL.
“Frances?” says Will.
“Up yours,” says Fran.
She holds the bottle upside down.
“It was already empty,” says Troy. “I promise.”
“Another clue,” says Will.
You let this sink in a moment.
“But then where are my pills?” says Fran. “It would really help to have them right now.”
Will starts pacing.
“How should I know? He moved them to another container. He threw them out!” says Will. “He’s trying to get you to go cold turkey.”
Will’s voice has gone up a full register, which is a little eerie, actually. And his face is turning pink. You close your eyes.
“One day. One hour. One minute,” you say.
Everyone turns toward you.
“Is that supposed to mean something?” says Troy. “Because it doesn’t mean something.”
You reach into your pocket and remove the piece of paper, still where you left it.
“I found it near the fire at our old site. I think he wrote it.”
“Jesus!” says Will. “Does anyone else have something to share? What’s wrong with you guys?!”
“I wasn’t sure it was his at first,” you say.
Fran stuffs her hands in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie.
“It means something to me,” she says. “It means he’s losing it. That’s what it means. Look, I know we probably shouldn’t use words likecrazy, right? Like, I’ve been called crazy, mostly by ex-girlfriends, but still. We’re all alone out here, and our therapist is writing abstract poetry in the middle of the night. What else am I supposed to do with that?”
“It’s not poetry,” says Diana. “It’s a mantra.”
