I spin around to find Jordan Adler, Dylan’s older brother, staring at me with disgust. He was a hockey player in high school, too. Never good enough to go further, though. I think he took some classes at Roxwood Community College, but didn’t make good enough grades to transfer to a four-year, thanks to a penchant for cheap beer, whiskey, and dirt bikes. It always creeped me out that he hung around at high school parties. Cal appears behind him with a few of the other guys from the hockey team, and my heart begins to pound fast.
I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand and stand up straight, searching for a response.
“What are you doing here?” Jordan asks, surprise in his voice.
“I’m sorry...” I start to say, but another one of his buddies cuts me off.
“Sorry? Are you fucking kidding, Goldie? Heller isdeadand he died atyourprecious camp.”
The tears are starting to come, and I take a step back. “They said it was an accident.” My voice is a whisper, hoarse and raw.
“If you think this is some sort of fucked-up coincidence, then you’re as dumb as we always thought you were,” another one says. “Youshould have been the one who drowned. Not Heller.” He takes a step closer to me and cracks his knuckles, like he’s looking for a fight.
Before any of them can make a move, Heller’s dad’s voice cuts through the air, asking everyone to take their seats.
Cal motions toward the stands. “Come on, guys,” he says without looking at me.
They all turn away to head back to the memorial to honor their friend, the boy I loved.
All except Jordan Adler.
He lingers a bit, waiting for the other guys to go. I brace myself, waiting for a punch, a shove, something that proves I’m as worthless as they made me feel.
But then Jordan steps toward me and looks at me with big, dark eyes. He reaches out and grabs my elbow hard.
“I know,” he whispers.
Everything in my body tightens.
“That fucker got what he deserved.”
Jordan releases me and walks back to the memorial, fast. When he disappears in the crowd, his words begin to make sense and I try to catch my breath. I text Mom with shaking fingers.
We need to leave.
I rush to the parking lot, my vision blurred from tears and snot. Mom and Dad appear with concerned eyes and shaking hands. They unlock the car and we throw ourselves into it, speeding out of the lot, back toward camp, toward safety.
But as the trees whip by through the window and I replay Jordan’s words in my brain, I wonder for the first time if maybe campisn’tsafe. Not anymore.
---
By the time we get back to Alpine Lake the sun is setting and the air is growing cold. I know there’s a final staff bonfire tonight, the last one before all the kids arrive tomorrow, but all I want to do is curl up under the covers of my top bunk and forget everything.
I slam the cabin door behind me and Meg yelps from the counselor room.
“Oi!” she says. “A heads-up woulda been nice.”
“Sorry,” I mutter without making eye contact. I start to climb the bunk, but Meg tugs at my hand gently.
“You okay?”
“Not really.” I step back on the floor, on solid ground, and Meg wraps me in a tight hug, her thick arms pressed against my back.
“Death’s a bitch, babe,” she says.
I snort out a laugh. A perfect Meg-ism. It’s similar to what she told Ava when her dad never showed up to visiting day. “Divorce’s a bitch, babe.” Ava jokes about getting that line tattooed on her forehead.
“Come to the bonfire,” Meg says when she releases me. “You think you’re going to feel better hanging out here alone reading or some shit? I refuse to let you wallow.”
