“No,” Cory said, acting shocked. “We’re working now.”
No way was I going into the forest—our forest—with Cory the Hellfart. No way was I following his orders. “We need to hurry home,” I said. “Sorry.”
Cory shook his head. “Seriously. You guys don’t want to do that. There’s something I need to tell you.”
“We don’t have to go,” I told Leo after Cory walked off.
“I think we do,” Leo said.
“Why?”
“Because it could get worse if we don’t,” Leo said.
We watched Cory. The sun glinted off the chocolate wrappers in his concessions basket. The candy had probably gone all melty and gross in the sun.
? ? ?
“Look at what I found,” Cory said under the trees. He held out a piece of paper. It took me a minute to recognize it.
It was one of our tour flyers.
Leo reached out to grab it but Cory snatched it away. “I knew this was yours,” he said.
“It’s not,” Leo said.
“It is. I called the number this morning and you answered.” He laughed. “This is Leo Bishop, how can I help you?” Cory said, pretending to be Leo, making his voice high and weird in a way that wasn’t like Leo’s at all.
Leo clenched his hands into fists. His mouth had gone into a straight line. “So you were the person who hung up.”
“That’s right,” Cory said.
And I thought, Why? Why didn’t Cory like us? Why couldn’t he leave us alone?
Cory would have made fun of Ben. I was sure about that.
“So what,” I said. My voice sounded flat. “So what, Cory.”
“So I’m going to tell Gary,” Cory said. “And you’ll both lose your jobs.”
“Why?”
“Because Gary won’t be happy that you are giving tours and putting these flyers in the programs,” Cory said, in a tone that said You idiot.
“No,” I said. “I mean, why tell Gary?”
“So he’ll fire you.”
“Why do you care?” Leo asked. “Why do you want us fired?”
Cory grinned. “Because.”
As if that were an answer. But it was, to Cory. It was all the answer he needed.
I am different and that has nothing to do with you, I wanted to tell him. Leo is different and that has nothing to do with you. You look at us and you don’t like us and you don’t even know why. I’ve seen it before a million times with Ben.
But my knowing this didn’t change anything. Cory was still going to tell on us. He was still going to get us fired.
“So are you going to go tell Gary right now?” I asked.
“I haven’t decided when I’ll tell him,” Cory said. “Maybe tonight. Maybe later.”
I wanted to shove Cory. To smash him down into the ground so he could lie there and feel the dirt under him and be up close to every fallen pine needle and feel scared. But I didn’t do that. I watched him go.
“How close are you now?” I asked Leo when Cory couldn’t hear us anymore. “To having enough money?”
“Not close enough,” he said. “And I’ve only got a week before my dad’s deadline to have the money for the plane ticket.”
“We can do it,” I said. “We can’t quit now.”
“Once Cory tells Gary it’s all over.”
“We’re being blackmailed by a Hellfart,” I said. I hoped it would make Leo laugh.
Leo didn’t laugh.
He also didn’t cry. Which it looked for a minute like he might do. I knew that feeling. Hold your mouth tight, tell your heart not to hurt, tell your brain not to think about what might happen next.
29.
It was a busy night because the festival was winding down for the summer and everyone wanted to see the plays before they closed. Every time I saw Cory, I felt my heart sink. Had he told Gary yet? At the end of the night, when we went out and unlocked our bikes, Leo said, “We don’t have to meet up in the morning. No one signed up for the tour tomorrow. The only person who called today was Cory.”
Everything was going wrong. “It’s okay. People will call again. It’s only one day.”
“The only way I can make the deadline is if the tour keeps doing as well as it has,” Leo said. “Every day.”
“I could lend you some money,” I said. “Really.”
“No,” Leo said. “I couldn’t take that from you.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.”
“You would have had all the money if you’d done the tour by yourself,” I pointed out.
“I wouldn’t have made as much money without you,” Leo said.
“I don’t even know what I’m saving for yet.”
“But you’re saving for something.”
When Leo said that, I realized it was true. It hadn’t been before. But it was now.
A season ski pass? A plane ticket?
I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted yet, but things had changed. Now I could at least imagine things I might want.
You’re stupid, something inside me said. Hoping for something doesn’t mean you’ll get to have it. There are no guarantees.
Shut up, I told that voice. I’m turning right past you to another page. You’re right but today I don’t care.
30.