So, in a fit of admirable charity and possibly feminism, I blurted out, “Oh, Celine? That’s my cousin.” Then I told him all about how I am on very strict instructions to look after her.
Clearly the warning didn’t stick, because the guy is now gazing at Celine—not our entire group of ten people plus Holly, just Celine—and introducing himself like he’s auditioning for the role of Mr. HowCelineSeesIt. “I’m Thomas! I’m almost seventeen but I’m in my final year; I started sixth form early.” He’s clearly hoping Celine will be impressed by that, which, in fairness, she might. “I go to Nottingham High,” he continues. Private school. Maybe he thinks she’ll be impressed by that too.
Instead, Celine flicks an alarmed look in my direction. For some reason, it’s really hard not to laugh. I bite down on the inside of my cheek and say, “I’m Brad. I play football, and I go to Rosewood Academy.” The football thing is relevant because I vaguely recognize a couple of guys here, and it’s probably from tournaments.
The silky-hair girl is Sophie; the wiry guy next to her is Raj; the supermodel-looking dude at the head of the circle (so I guess it’s not exactly a circle anymore?) is called Allen, and then I stop listening. I’m busy checking out the landscape so I won’t step on a snake or fall into any cleverly disguised quicksand pits. (You might think quicksand would be unlikely in an East Midlands forest, but it seemed unlikely on Dora the Explorer too.)
“Is anyone especially good at reading maps?” Allen asks, the command in his tone bringing me back down to earth. I’m pretty sure he just interrupted Celine’s shaggy-haired little roommate, but I wasn’t paying attention, so maybe I’m wrong.
Raj and a girl whose name I don’t know both raise their hands. Then Raj grins. “Look at us, putting our hands up like we’re at school.”
Allen does not laugh. In fact, he must think we are at school and he is the teacher. “I’m rather good at orienteering,” he says firmly, “so I’m thinking I’ll hold the map and you guys can consult. Maybe someone else can be the compass person and the rest can be sent ahead to scout, keep an eye on terrain, that sort of thing?”
We all shrug at each other. Allen nods firmly—he has a very strong jaw and hair like thick wheat—and takes the map and the compass from our supervisor Holly like he is King Arthur pulling the sword from the stone.
I check Celine’s expression, and it doesn’t disappoint; she’s watching Allen like he’s the single most boring amoeba she’s ever laid eyes on. I wish I was as easily disdainful, but I think Allen’s kind of hot. (I have long come to terms with the fact that I have horrible taste.)
While our experts huddle around the (thankfully, laminated) map, I sidle over to Celine and obey our mums’ wishes. “Let’s stick together, okay?”
She looks up at me like I’m on drugs. “Why?”
“Because we’re cousins,” I reply, purely to get on her nerves.
“Please stop saying that,” she murmurs politely, “before I vomit all over these lovely plants.”
I’ve developed a little problem since school started: every week, I sit next to Celine in Philosophy, and we insult each other like always, but lately I find myself wanting to laugh. Really badly.
But I won’t, because Celine talks to me like I’m a deeply suspicious stranger and if I make one wrong move, she will knee me in the balls for her own safety. It’s annoying but what did I expect? Funny or not, she’s still a judgmental know-it-all hypocrite.
Unfortunately, she’s also still wearing that cast hidden under the sleeve of her coat. And if she trips over a stray twig and I don’t catch her, my guilt will go from monumental to colossal and my spine might crack under the strain. So, “Whether you like it or not,” I say under my breath, “I’m stuck to you like glue.”
She scowls and asks again, “Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because I am committed to protecting my peace and you are so far from my inner circle you’re basically a hexagon. Get thee behind me.”
For God’s sake. “What do you think I’m going to do, push you into a ditch?”
“I don’t know what you’re going to do, Bradley.” She sends a weird, edgy look in my direction and all my hopes for a half-normal week land splat like an egg on the floor. “I barely know you at all.”
My jaw tightens, but it’s not as if she’s lying. I barely know her, either. Because the Celine I once thought I knew would never have abandoned our friendship so easily, would never have ignored my honestly embarrassing apology, would never have been so determined to keep us apart for this long.
It’s been almost four years now. And she’s still not even slightly over it—
“Fine,” I bite out, and go to stand with Thomas instead.
Allen and a few other people put their heads together over the only map, talking about keys and terrains and directions. I know I should be more active, and I know Holly is hovering around observing us, grading us out of five for each quality on Katharine Breakspeare’s success matrix thingy. We’ve been reminded that we’ll be graded every day before we receive an average for the whole expedition.
So when Allen asks who fancies walking a little ahead to keep an eye on the terrain, I volunteer immediately, and never mind the state of my trainers. See, Holly?! I’m literally leading the group. Please write that down.
Celine sticks with the compass people, which is ridiculous because I don’t think she even knows her left from her right.
We scrabble around for about ten minutes before I realize I’m not hating this. It’s a challenge, watching where I step, squinting through the faint fall of rain, listening to instructions from behind me and trying to stay alert—but the activity of it helps keep my mind on what I’m doing. The air feels good in my lungs. The space feels good around me. This is a bit like playing football—the way you get so present in your body, your head turns all empty and clean.
“You seem cheerful,” Thomas drawls, managing to sound sarcastic even though he’s panting a bit to keep up.
“We’re almost there,” I tell him. “I can feel it.”
Raj pipes up from a meter or so behind us. “You mean you can hear Allen crowing,” he says dryly, and Thomas snorts.
We find the marker a little while later, buried between the forked trunks of a big, twisty tree that I am determined to learn the name of. It has thick, dark leaves and crumbly bark and it gives off winning vibes to me. I spot the rain-spattered plastic bag tied to a low-hanging branch, but it’s Allen who strides forward to open it and pull out…
A single, palm-sized little book, green and white, with SHERWOOD FOREST GUIDE stamped on the front and a silhouette logo of Robin Hood’s pointed cap.
Allen stares, horrified. “This is just one book.”
I hear Celine for the first time since we started searching. “Aurora said there’s something else in the bag,” she calls from the back of the group.
My eyes fly to her—her cheeks are wet with rain, her eyeliner slightly smudged, her chest rising and falling steadily. Then I turn back to the bag and notice the little square of paper tucked in the bottom corner.
Allen screws up his face. “Who’s Aurora?”
Okay, so I don’t know exactly who Aurora is either, but come on, man.
Celine’s big-eyed roommate—Aurora, clearly—blushes. Celine narrows her dark eyes in an expression that I know means explosion imminent, and says, “You must be hungry or tired or otherwise temporarily impaired. We should really hurry back.” Then she steps forward to grab the note, apparently before Allen can decide whether or not that was an insult.
(It was.)
She has to stand between us—between Allen and me—to get the piece of paper. I stare at him over her head and wonder suddenly if she thinks we’re the same.
He reminds me of Donno, which is a thought I do not enjoy.
Celine reads the note quickly and says, “Shit.”
I glance over her shoulder, but Allen takes the paper almost immediately. Doesn’t matter; I saw enough to get the gist.
“Shit,” I repeat.
Allen’s voice rings with disbelief. “?‘Step by step and line by line, places that hide each book, you’ll find. From every clue, take letter and number—to start, what’s small and strange and sweet, and in one bite appeases hunger?’?” His voice rises at the end as if no one has ever fucked with him like this.
A little silence falls.
Then Raj laughs. “We have to find nine more books.”
CHAPTER FIVE
CELINE
There’s a very interesting vein pulsing in Allen’s forehead. I catch Aurora’s eye and she bites her lip on a smile.
“All right, change of plans!” Sophie says, patting her ponytail as it slowly frizzes into a curly puff. “First things first: what’s the riddle mean? Is anyone good at that sort of thing?”
Aurora sidles over to me, leans in, and murmurs, “Petit fours.”