Uh…is she hungry? “Pardonnez moi?”
Unfortunately, Allen finally regains his voice. “This can’t be right,” he announces, and strides over to our supervisor Holly. “Excuse me,” he says all politely, which—it’s a bit late for that, pal, she’s already heard you mouthing off to everyone else, but okay. “Was there a misunderstanding earlier?”
Holly tilts her beautiful head to one side and says calmly, “No.”
Allen waits for more information.
Apparently, none is forthcoming.
“It’s just that we were told the books would all be together,” he tries again.
Holly presses her fluttery fake eyelashes together and apart, very, very slowly. Her glossy mouth remains closed.
Allen is turning a lovely shade of pink. “So are you saying we now have to find ten books individually? Clue by clue?”
“No.”
Allen starts to exhale in relief.
“You’ve already found one,” she continues. “There are only nine left.”
So Raj was right.
I should be annoyed that we have even more hiking to do, but I’m busy enjoying the barely restrained outrage on Allen’s face. I bite back a smile, and by some unexplainable accident, my eyes meet Bradley’s.
He’s smirking. I’m smirking. For one impossible second, we’re both smirking—at each other, but, like, not in the usual way. Then his smirk is replaced by a grimace of horrified realization, and he snatches his gaze away like I might give him fleas. God forbid someone like him make eye contact with someone like me, I suppose.
My jaw aches and I realize I’m grinding my teeth.
“But then…that’s not…” Allen might be in the midst of a cardiac arrest. “Well,” he manages, pulling himself together. “We’ve found one of the books. Shouldn’t one person get to go back? Or…do we really need all ten? We can photocopy them, can’t we? That would be smarter. We should work smarter, not harder.” His gaze drills into Holly. “Is that what we’re supposed to do?”
She looks incredibly bored. “I’m just your supervisor. I can’t help you.”
As entertaining as this is, I think the responsible thing to do is get on with our task now, so I reluctantly tear myself away and try to think.
Evidently, Sophie agrees, because she asks again—louder this time, “The riddle. Any ideas?”
“It talks about hunger,” someone says, “so it’s probably food, right?”
A discussion breaks out, one I could take part in if Bradley didn’t choose that very moment to lean across me and murmur to Aurora, “Did you have an idea?”
I scowl. What is he on about? We haven’t even—
But Aurora nods slowly, flicking a glance at me, then at him. “Do you two know each other?”
I say, “Absolutely not,” just as Bradley laughs, “Unfortunately.” His smile is warm and inviting and he has a dimple in his right cheek, all of which is directed with unwavering focus at Aurora. I have no idea what his game is, but there’s definitely a game. Maybe he’s noticed Aurora’s smart and useful (because, you know, she is) so he’s decided to latch on to her and look good by association. But I’m sure by the end of the day he’ll be ignoring her and braiding Allen’s hair. That guy’s a substitute Donno if I ever saw one.
“It’s petit fours,” Aurora says. “Small and strange—as in foreign, right?—and it’s a food. And there’s a number, so it’s probably…P4 on the map, or something, our sector is OPQ…”
Oh God. She’s giving him all her ideas. I widen my eyes and shake my head but she’s not paying attention to me because Bradley is luring her away with his annoying handsome face.
His smile widens and he says, “You figured it out that fast? You’re some kind of genius.”
Gag me.
Then he whispers, “Tell Sophie.”
I pause, convinced I haven’t heard him right. Why isn’t he…? Why would he…? I mean, Bradley’s way too smart to outright steal Aurora’s idea and present it as his own. But why wouldn’t he do some big pompous “I think Aurora has the answer!” moment to capture everyone’s attention and prove what a Nice Guy he is? Why would he just quietly tell her…
“Everyone’s talking,” Aurora mumbles. “I can’t just—”
“You can.” He nudges her. “It’s fine, they’re all talking over each other. Might as well join in.”
She blushes.
“Just blurt it out,” he tells her. “Don’t think about it, just go. Go on! Go.”
Aurora is giggling. I am appalled. What is even happening in front of my eyes?
“Go on, say it, say it say it say it—”
“I have an idea,” Aurora announces suddenly, her nose fire-engine red but her voice strong and clear.
I make a weird sort of Gah? sound. Bradley looks at me sideways. I snap my mouth shut.
“I think it…um…might be…petit fours?” Aurora croaks. “Maybe, I don’t know, I was just thinking it might, because, you know.” She has run out of steam, but it doesn’t matter, because Thomas is nodding and saying “Ohhhh!” He explains the logic and Aurora agrees with this tiny, happy smile on her face, and the conversation races off. Sophie is asking about people’s phones and talking about meeting points and efficiency. Raj is asking Aurora if he can call her Briar Rose. Bradley is examining a speck of mud on his hoodie and I am staring at Bradley because I just can’t help myself.
He’s supposed to be a different person now. He’s supposed to be a caricature of a popular kid, towing Donno’s maliciously drawn line, ignoring people he considers beneath him and pretending it’s accidental, keeping himself apart as if he were born perfect. It’s not that being hot and athletic and charming makes you a bad person. But choosing to put those qualities above everything else—above kindness and honesty and loyalty—that makes you a bad person. That made him a bad person when he used to be my person.
He’s supposed to be someone I don’t recognize.
But every so often he shows me flashes of a Bradley I do recognize, and I really need him to stop.
“Okay,” Sophie says, “so that leaves…Brad and Celine?”
I jolt at the sound of my name. Next to me, Bradley does the same.
“One of you has a compass on your phone, right?”
I open my mouth, then close it. What am I going to do, admit that I have no idea what’s going on? I doubt that would do my commitment score for the day any favors. “Yes,” I say calmly, just as Bradley announces, “I have a pocket compass, actually.”
I do a double take as he pulls out a little black plastic thing and snaps it open. Of course, Prince Perfect brought his own. I wonder if Holly’s going to give him extra points for creative thinking—or commitment—or leadership. God. I really need to step up my game.
“Oh, great!” Sophie says. “Okay, everyone, come and take a picture of the map.”
Subtly, I move closer to Aurora. “What’s going on?”
“Relays,” she whispers back. “We’re setting up a group chat and going off in pairs.”
“What? How does that make sense?”
“They have a signal booster out here,” she says. “To make sure hikers can call for help, if they get lost.”
“No, I meant, we need each clue to find the next book, right?”
“Yeah,” Aurora says, “that’s what the group chat is for. To share whatever we find. But this task takes part in the red-outlined section of the map—meaning there’s only a limited number of sectors, right? It’s not that big a surface area. So the other pairs will look around their sectors to see if they can stumble across anything while we all wait for more info. Going around in a big group of ten just seems like a waste of time. Most of us didn’t even have a task when we were searching for this book.”
That…is a terrible plan. I should really say som—
“Hang on,” I hiss, realization thwacking me in the face like a tree branch. “So I have to go off on my own with Brad?”
Aurora winces, which is confirmation enough.
“Who are you with?!”
“Raj,” she says. “Sorry!”
I fake-glare at her. She laughs. For the next five minutes, I completely ignore the impending doom staring me in the face. Then we all part ways, leaving Holly behind as a safety checkpoint, and I’m forced to approach Him.
The Utmost Pain in My Arse.
Stay zen, Celine. If we have to work together, we have to work together. I’m not a complete child. I take a nice soothing breath and rub my rain-damp palms over my thighs.
This is going to be fine.
I will make it fine.
Fine!
BRAD
Celine’s being weirder than usual.
“This is honestly ridiculous,” she mutters under her breath for the ten thousandth time as we trudge through the bracken. And no, her complaining is not the weird part; what’s weird is that she’s complaining to me.