My coffee isfinallyalmost ready to drink when I hear footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see Thorn, eyebrows knitted together as he surveys my…situation.
“We’ll be heading out in fifteen,” he says. “Think you’ll have your palace ready to go by then?”
Firstprincess, nowpalace—
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“Oh, yeah.” I take my first glorious sip of coffee, the picture ofnonchalance. “You should see my trophy case back home, I’ve won a few for speed-packing. Palaces included.”
The corner of his mouth turns upward, the barest hint of a grin.
“Great,” he says smoothly, not missing a beat. “Sounds like you’ve got it under control.”
“Completelyunder control,” I reply. “Blink and you’ll miss it!”
But I absolutely do not have it under control.
I am the opposite of a speed-packer: it is a mystery beyond all mysteries how everything I took out of my backpack ever fit inside in the first place. Even when I consult the photo I snapped in the REI backpack aisle—a diagram of how everything should fit inside to make the most of the limited space—I can’t make it work.
And everyone’s waiting.
Waiting andwatching.
The longer I struggle, the harder it gets. How do zippers work? Have I ever used one in my entire life? I’m sweating from the effort and it’s barely nine in the morning.
Without a word, Thorn swoops in at my side and—after the briefestIs this okay?glance, which I definitely don’t refute—starts slipping everything into my pack. He has to try three configurations before it works.
“You can have one of my speed-packing trophies after this is all over,” I say quietly, for his ears only, too mortified to look at him. “Thank you.”
He gives my backpack a little pat before moving on to take care of my tent.
“Hope you took notes,” he says. “There’ll be an exam tomorrow.”
Heat floods into my cheeks—his tone is stern but his eyes are playful—and the whole scenario makes me want to crawl into a hole. Preferably a hole stocked with a nice clawfoot bathtub and eucalyptusbath salts and a chilled glass of rosé, but beggars can’t exactly be choosers out here.
We’re on the trail in no time after that. Thorn tells us we’ll be spending most of today in Valerie Forest again, but that the campsite we’re working toward is just outside it, about six miles from here.
I’m near the back of the pack today, just ahead of the tennis girls and Matteo. I hadn’t realized he was so chatty—he’s barely spoken to Thorn the whole time we’ve been out here, despite the fact that they’re supposedly leading together. With the girls, though, you’d think there was a million-dollar prize at stake for who can ask the most questions.
Matteo is easily the front-runner in that contest right now.
Two miles in, the trees start to blend together, and I wonder how anyone ever made it all the way through this forest in the first place without getting hopelessly lost.
Thorn navigates effortlessly, pointing out the various birds that flit across our paths (I’ve already forgotten their names) and the sound of water in the distance. I have to strain to hear it at first, but the longer we walk, the louder it is—until suddenly, the woods open up and the water is right in front of us, a frothy, bubbling river that cuts across the landscape.
We come to a stop, waiting until everyone has caught up.
“Behind me is the L’Heureux River,” he practically yells, fighting to be heard over the water. “The next segment of our hike will follow alongside it until we reach the main event: L’Heureux Falls. Please be extremely careful on this portion of the trail—the steps are rocky and can get slippery from all the mist coming off the waterfall.”
His gaze lands on me, and my cheeks heat up: I can read everything he’s trying not to say—between my heavy pack and my lack of hiking boots, I’m a disaster waiting to happen.
Have fun and don’t die, Caden’s voice tumbles through my head.
Emphasis on thedon’t die.
Matteo leads the way this time as we set off down the riverside path, which—at the moment—is still flat and dry and not that different from walking on the trail. Joshua and Zoe are directly ahead of me now, and seeing them together makes me wonder: What would it have been like if Caden had actually come on this trip?
In theory, it would have been nice to do this with someone I already knew instead of completely on my own. But at the same time, Caden and I wouldn’t really have beenwitheach other so much as awkwardly keeping our distance the whole time—in a group this size, it would have been lost on exactly no one that we have History™ together, and probably way more uncomfortable than I imagined. I’m really glad he wasn’t here to see me holding up the whole trek this morning, or how Thorn had to repack my whole bag for me.
