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That camp had given us our happiest memories. And eventually… some of our worst.

The judge closed the folder. “Sometimes the places we have bad or broken memories of are the exact places where people learn how to put them back together,” Caroway said, as if reading my mind.

I wanted to argue, but instead I laughed, letting the glares follow my manic outburst. It was crazy. Fucking hilarious that after all this time, that’s where we’d end up. “You think putting us in charge of a bunch of shithead kids is fixing our shithead ways?”

“I think,” the judge replied in his huffy way, “if you can survive each other for ten weeks while keeping those children safe…” He paused. “…you’ll have earned a clean record and maybe a few lessons in humility, Mr. Carter.”

It was quiet for a moment so I piped up again. “And if we end up killing each other before the ten weeks are up?”

The bailiff groaned, but the judge didn’t miss a beat. “Then you’ll violate probation and incarceration will be imminent.

I snorted, and Darius covered his face with his hands. Obviously distressed.

Oh! The team! If Double Dee didn’t do this and smile about it, he could kiss his fancy swim scholarship goodbye.

I leaned close enough so that only he could hear me. “So…”

“What the fuck do you want, Alvin? Haven’t you done enough?” he hissed.

“Just wanted to know something,” I said, my smirk firmly in place while he waited for me to continue. “You ready to go back to camp, partner?”

His eyes met mine for the first time since we’d walked into the courtroom. And I saw it. That same terrified look he’d worn all those years ago when we were just boys pretending summers could last forever, and the pain we’d lived every day between those few months could somehow disappear.

“Fuck no,” he said. To be fair, neither was I.

Wrinkle-fuck’s gavel came down anyway. “Court is adjourned.”

Just like that, the place where our story had begun was about to become the place we’d have to face all over again. But this time… I couldn’t help wondering if we’d survive it.

CHAPTER 2

I’d never been the bible-thumping type. Didn’t know if hell existed or if it was just something my ma would threaten to keep me in line as a kid. Until fucking now. Because now I was one-hundred percent sure there was a hell and I was sitting in it.

Sweat trickled down my forehead, my balls were sticking to my thighs, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the ground opened up and swallowed us whole. There was no fire and brimstone. No horned guy propped up on a throne of skulls or whatever else preachers told you there would be. But don’t let any of that fool ya. This was fucking hell. My version of it anyway.

A bus full of screaming teenagers. Loud music that was interrupted every now and then by static as we got deeper and deeper into the backwoods, and the one person in the world I hated more than myself. Alvin fucking Carter.

Okay, I didn’t hate him entirely. It was hard to hate the person you considered your best friend up until about five years ago. But I didn’t like him either. More specifically, I didn’t like the way he made me feel. And I really, really didn’t like the way he was looking at me at the moment. As if he could read my fucking mind and he knew all my thoughts were about him.

He fluttered his eyelashes in my direction when he caught me staring. I grunted and turned in my seat to peer out the window. At nothing, because there was nothing to look at but trees and more fucking trees.

This was all his fault. A full summer wasted because the guy didn’t know how to let shit go. Like that stupid fucking taxidermied spider he had pinned to the front of his shirt. Most people moved on after something died. Plants, pets, friendships. Not Alvin fucking Carter. He held on tighter, like he could will it back into existence.

He couldn’t. Dead shit stayed fucking dead, and I would spend the next few months proving it to him.

I glanced to my left—couldn’t help myself. Alvin had this way of drawing you to him even when he wasn’t trying. That was why it was just easier to pretend he didn’t exist. He was gone, though.

Fucker must have gotten the hint and switched seats when I wasn’t paying attention. That was fucking good. It was better at least.

Just as I was thinking this whole community-service thing might not be as hellish after all, I felt something wet touch my ear. I jerked a shoulder to nudge it away and twisted in my seat to glance behind me.

“What the fuck?”

Alvin’s head slowly—dramatically—turned from where it was directed out the window. “Hm?”

“Did you seriously just give me a wet willy?”

He blinked once, his brows scrunching together in the middle and his mouth pulling into a straight line. If you didn’t know him, you’d think there was something serious going on in that head of his. Because I knew him, I could promise you that wasn’t the case. Then he grabbed on to my seat, forcing me to lean out of the way while he peered over the top.