CHAPTER 52
Then
“It’s called a nondisclosure agreement.” Judah McConnell was standing over me in the ice fishing hut a quarter mile from their main house.
Heller’s head was in his hands and his legs were shaking as he tapped a foot against the floor.
He wouldn’t look at me.
He wouldn’t speak.
Judah slid the pieces of paper across the small coffee table.
“We know this is a lot to ask of you, Goldie,” he said, almost kindly. “And we’re willing to compensate you for your trouble.”
“Compensate?” I asked.
“Twenty thousand dollars,” he said. “It’s not much in the grand scheme of things, but it’s all we have. Enough to help out with college. You’re over eighteen so your parents wouldn’t have to know.”
I bit my lip. I knew Mom and Dad were worried about money—always had been. If I signed the paperwork and took the cash, Judah was right. I could put it toward school and tell them I received a scholarship or financial aid or something. They could save their hard-earned paychecks to get a new car or repair the generator that blew out during last year’s blizzard. Taking this kind ofmoney would help. It would change things. It would make me less of a burden. Judah was right. They’d never have to know.
And besides. I loved Heller.
Heller loved me.
I was protecting him.
Because I knew he would protect me.
I took the pen from the table and pressed the point to the piece of paper.
I would have done it even without the promise of a paycheck.
“Wait,” Heller said. “Are you sure? You haven’t even read it.”
I looked up at his frightened face. It had only been a few hours since the accident, but he looked so much older. His skin was gray and there were deep circles under his eyes.
He needed me.
I grabbed his hand in mine and nodded.
“I’m sure.”
Heller let out a shaky breath and squeezed my hand so hard I thought my fingers might fall off.
I held the pen in my hand and signed my life away for twenty thousand dollars.
CHAPTER 53
Now
Songfest drags on way longer than usual. Or at least that’s how it feels from the picnic tables in the back, where all of the counselors are trying not to wince as the kids drone on and on, singing about how much they love each other and camp and how two months is never enough time in this place. The sentiments are real. I feel them, too. But I can’t think about that now. All I can focus on is this ending so we can sneak into the winter cabin.
Finally, when the last team finishes, Stu and Mellie stand up and applaud, their eyes wet with tears. It’s dark now, save for the enormous fire burning in the middle of the circle, illuminating the campers and counselors sitting around the ring. Stu and Mellie hold hands and walk around, looking at the community, this place they built from scratch. The kids are sitting with their designated teams, wearing their colors—blue, red, yellow, green—eagerly waiting for the directors to announce the winners.
Finally they do, and the members of the red team erupt in cheers, hugging each other and falling over as they realize they have finally achieved their dream of being number one.
The other teams deflate and hold one another, reminding themselves,This is only camp. This is only color war. It’s not real life.
