I cleared my throat, reminding the lovebirds I was still here. Autumn narrowed her eyes at me, and I regretted drawing her attention.
“Why were you giving me so much grief earlier? You were acting like a child.” The disdain in her voice could be felt down to my toes.
I had hoped she would instantly get over my outburst, but of course, my behavior had caught up to me. I had to remember that not everyone appreciated arguing just for the sake of arguing, even though it felt natural when it came to Nat. I hated that she brought out my pettiness, my need to be right, and the little bit of a mean streak I had.
“You have to admit Nat’s the worst,” I tried, clinging to the fantastical idea that Autumn would take my side.
She tilted her head at me, clearly at her limit. “What happened to being a professional? You need to stop letting her get under your skin.”
Jamie gave me a look as if to say he was sorry. He was the one who’d caught Gia and Nat making out last year. The one who told me about seeing the two of them kissing by his cabin. Who knew if Gia even would have divulged her betrayal. I knew Jamie was on my side, but I also knew that Autumn was right, even if I didn’t want her to be.
“This will be the last time.” I was probably lying, but it didn’t matter. Whatever was between us was driving me mad, and I needed to squash it.
Autumn crossed her arms. “Will it now? And let me guess, you need a mediator to make sure you two don’t squabble all night?”
The word mediator made me think of Nat and me sitting together cross-legged as Autumn forced us to talk this out like adults. Yeah, no. “We need a ref, not a marriage counselor.”
“That was an interesting jump.” Her tone was full of judgment, which I didn’t appreciate, but maybe I had it coming. “Fine, I’ll do it, but I need something from you.”
“You’re going to extort your best friend in his time of need,” I bellyached, and Autumn looked pleased with herself.
“I prefer the term negotiate,” she corrected pointedly. “I’ll help you with this, but it’ll be the last time you bring me into something with Nat. And”—she lifted a finger as if to stop me from interjecting—“we need fifty tires for the obstacle race. Which means… you’ll be liaising with the junkmaster.”
The junkmaster in question was Herman Peters, the local curmudgeon and a constant pain in Wildwood’s side. He had the best yard in Wildwood and had once won a feature in theWildwoodian, the town’s local newspaper. But his house and backyard were a mystery. If you were looking for an old boat without a motor or a Toyota Tercel bumper, he’d find it for you—for a price—usually in the form of your dignity. But the true price was interacting with him.
“If byliaise, you mean getting my head bitten off for talking to him about anything other than tennis or raccoons?” I said, but Autumn remained unshakable. I resorted to begging. “Please don’t make me do this.”
Autumn shook her head. “If it’s not you, it’ll be me, and that’s not happening. The last time I needed something, he made me recite the town song, Jack. It’s three minutes long.”
“We have a town song?” Jamie jumped in, eager to learn more.
She nodded. “Each grade at Wildwood Elementary came up with a verse. It’s set to Miley Cyrus’s ‘Party in the USA.’ He had the lyrics printed out for me and everything.”
I tried to imagine what horrendous thing he might do to me, but that could be anything. He enjoyed others’ humiliation. “You think the man has fifty tires lying around somewhere?”
“Have you seen his backyard?”
“No. Have you?” The town curmudgeon was notoriously secretive, and I didn’t have a spy kit.
Autumn shuddered. “It’s rumored he has an entire pile of garden gnomes back there. Like, hundreds.”
“So if I don’t come back alive?” I raised my eyebrows expectantly.
“We’ll be blaming the gnomes.”
I’d bet she’d plan me a nice funeral. “This is going to suck.”
“Well, if you go into it with that mindset…” She shrugged before she and Jamie walked off.
I changed back at my cabin and rushed my way through dinner, which was perfect because I was radioed to help a camper with an electronic lock that wasn’t working. Then I took out some lingering frustration on unpacking a massive net for the upcoming obstacle race. This was turning out to be my least favorite competition. I’d better win.
By the time I made my way over to the campfire, the party was already in full swing. New lively faces sat on wooden bleachers, conversing with drinks in hand. I sat next to one of my pod members, Erin, as she told us her worst first date story while crocheting a sweater.
“So, he took me to a timeshare meeting just to get a free dinner. We were trapped for hours.” She shook her head gravely as several campers gasped at the injustice. “It’s okay, though, because he got sidled into a ski chalet, and I got out of there before they conned me into anything.”
The conversation quickly evolved into bad first date stories, but all I could think about was how relationships always endedpoorly for me. The cheating ex who had broken my heart in the most obliterating clichés of all time popped into my head. She’d left me for my former best friend. That one was probably the worst breakup, but it had prompted my move to California, which was how I’d met my actual best friend, Autumn.
The night should have been lovely, but of course, my gaze immediately found Nat. The fire backlit her, and the image showed all these endearing little flyaway hairs that only made her look more beautiful. She gestured as she told a story, enrapturing her audience.
