I whip around, peering between the trees for a glimpse of fur, a snout, a pair of beady black eyes. But there is nothing.
Kei squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry about it. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”
“I highly doubt that.”
After a few more minutes of trudging through the trees, the light in the forest starts to get brighter. The buildings that make up the camp loom behind the trees.
We break through the tree line to find that Sue-Ellen and Isa have beaten us back. They’re standing at the flagpole with Gabby, holding a bucket full of clear amber syrup. What the hell?
Kei and I look at one another. “Where’d you get the syrup?” I call.
Sue-Ellen laughs. “From atree, Cleo,” she says, as if I’m a total imbecile.
“Maple trees don’t produce sap in the summer,” Kei says. I admire his ability to state facts plainly, without any of the whininess that sneaks into my voice.
Isa shrugs. “Maybe you just tried the wrong tree.”
“No,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I know how to identify a sugar maple.”
Gabby shrugs. “Don’t know what to tell you! In any case, we can have it on our pancakes tomorrow.”
It takes everything I have to not argue, not to accuse them of being big dirty cheaters, because I know that’s exactly what they are. But the Girl Next Door keeps her cool and doesn’t make unprovable accusations.
Kei takes my hand. I look at him, and he gives his head a little shake, confirming that I need to leave it alone. “Come on, let’s go have a hammock nap.”
I think about lying next to Kei in the hammock, our bodies pressing together as we sway gently in the breeze. My shoulders soften.
“I’d love to,” I tell him, fighting back the grin that’s threatening to overtake my face.
And the thing is, I mean it.
Chapter Eighteen
Welcome to the first official Couple-Up Ceremony of Camp Couple-Up, Season One!” Natasha cries. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and we all bounce up and down, cheering. She turns directly to the camera. “The campers have spent the last five days getting to know one another, and we’ve had some beautiful moments of vulnerability and connection, and some spicy moments, too—Damian and Harmony, I’m looking at you!” Damian grins, sheepishly, and a pink flush fills Harmony’s cheeks. “Soon,” Natasha continues, “the female campers will choose their official bunkmates. But first, we have a surprise.”
Oooh, surprises. Not my favourite.
“Campers, can you please line up in front of the flagpole?”
We do as we’re told, exchanging wary glances. Reality TV surprises rarely lead to anything good.
“Campers, something you don’t know is that America has been voting for their favourite camper, via the Camp Couple-Up app—” she turns to face Tyler. “Do you still want me to say that?”
There is a hard edge to the look that he gives her, and he replies with a terse “Yes.”
Natasha turns to the camera, not missing a beat. “—via the Camp Couple-Up app, available for free from the App Store or wherever you get your apps.” She turns back to us. “And we are about to reveal whoreceived the most votes and is America’s favourite camper, but—” she gives us all a very serious look “—we will also reveal the person who received the fewest votes, and therefore who will be asked to pack their bags and check out of Camp Couple-Up immediately.”
Gasps of shock ring out around me, and I feel a pit of dread sinking and settling in my stomach. What if it’s me? What if America can see through my act? I squeeze my hands into tight fists and focus on the pain of my nails digging into my palms. Strangely, the shape of my worry has more to do with Kei than the money at stake.
And now everyone is looking at Harmony and smiling and clapping. She must be America’s favourite. Of course she is. I clap for my friend, my hands clanging clumsily against one another, as if they belong to someone else.
“Now,” Natasha’s serious tone has returned. “It’s time to announce who will be the first camper eliminated from Camp Couple-Up.”
Natasha pauses, one of those overdrawn dramatic pauses loved by reality TV producers. I look at Kei. He’s focusing intently on Natasha. “The person with the fewest votes, who will be asked to pack their bags and check out of Camp Couple-Up is…” Natasha pauses. She looks each of us in the eye. I try to read her expression for some sense of sympathy or sadness, but she is stone cold.
She takes a long breath in and then heaves an exhale. She looks at Harmony, and then back at the rest of us. She lowers her gaze, shaking her head sadly.
Oh for fuck’s sake, just say it.
