“I’m up for it if you are.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing my nose against the curve of his cheekbone. “I didn’t quite catch that. Once again in French, please?”
“Je serais…” He stopped abruptly at a rustle around the corner. Voices and footsteps coming toward us. He gestured to the dark cluster of trees behind me. “Hide!”
I crossed my arms. “I so don’t need your altruism.”
“This isn’t some misguided sense of chivalry,” he hissed. “I don’t want you to get sent home. If I get kicked out, I can take Crumbs’ car back here to see you! You can’t drive back from Sacramento.”
“Oh,” I said. “That is sweet.”
“Elliot!” he stressed.
It was halfway between the trunks of two knobby trees when the clatter of sneakers on pavement got louder. Hunter and Jams rounded the corner, both wild-eyed and whispering to each other in apparent distress. They both halted when they saw Brandon.
“Oh, thank shit,” Hunter said, clutching his heart.
“Ever?” Jams said. “Why aren’t you guys seeing that naff movie?”
I had no idea what naff meant, but it didn’t sound complimentary. I climbed back onto the sidewalk as casually as I could, even though Hunter and Jams could tell that I had been attempting to hide.
“We got, um, sidetracked,” I said. “Decided not to go.”
“My sister caught us,” Brandon elaborated. “And dragged us back here under threat of tattling.”
“Oof,” Hunter said with an exaggerated wince. “Tough luck.”
“What are you guys doing?” I asked.
“We were taking advantage of the Team One date night,” Jams said, folding his fingers into Hunter’s. “But now we’re going to look for a counselor.”
“Why?” Brandon asked.
“We found something,” Hunter said.
“The binders?” I guessed, unable to hold back a spark of hope.
“One binder,” Jams said, uncomfortably. “But also like a metric fuck ton of stolen stuff.”
“Metric,” Hunter chuckled.
“What kind of stolen stuff?” I asked.
“Food, mostly,” Hunter said. “A computer or two. A bunch of liquor. I think someone’s been living in the tree house.”
Jams nodded. “On a positive note, I think I found your socks, Brandon. Yay?”
30
Brandon and I ran toward Fort Farm while Hunter and Jams waited for us at the tree house. It was nice to run, but even more so to have Brandon keep stride with me.
The tree canopy disappeared behind us, revealing the twinkly night sky again. And, in the distance, the single fort draped in rippling blue sheets surrounded by bare wooden structures.
Brandon led the way through the clover and wildflower field, his shoulders rigid as we approached the occupied fort. There was clearly something rustling behind the sheet. A soft laugh made Brandon’s shoulders go rigid before he reached out and knocked on the fort’s frame.
I stood to the side as the sheet whipped open. The Perfect Nerd Girl’s head popped out like the gatekeeper in The Wizard of Oz. I nearly expected her to ask, Who rang that bell? Instead, her eyes narrowed.
“B?”
“Hey, Trix,” Brandon said, raising his hand in an awkward wave. He raised his voice slightly. “Hey, Ben.”
“Hey, Bran,” said Lumberjack Beard from inside the fort.
Trixie’s head stretched forward. She looked from Brandon to me and back again. “What are you guys doing out?”
“Come on, Trix,” said Lumberjack Beard, still out of sight. “We’re really not in a place to lecture.”
She glared over her shoulder. “I am.”
Brandon cleared his throat. “Can you guys, um, put some pants on so we can talk?”
The sheet closed with a fwump of air. I tucked my hands into my back pockets and gazed out at the field, ignoring the thumps and curses coming from behind the wall of cotton.
“It was an art installation,” Brandon blurted.
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Excuse me?”
“Fort Farm.” He coughed. “It was originally an art installation representing deforestation. Or suburban anonymity? Something like that. But the students like having an outdoor space to study, so they petitioned to keep them.”
“And apparently they’re big enough to have sex in.” I snorted. “Who wouldn’t want to keep them around?”
“Yeah, we can hear you,” Lumberjack Beard said.
“I was in no way trying to lower my voice,” I said back.
Brandon wheezed a laugh into his elbow.
“I told you that you could find me here in the event of an emergency, Brandon,” Lumberjack Beard said. “So, where’s the fire? We dismantled the alarm again—”
“Hunter and Jams found a bunch of stuff hidden in the tree house,” Brandon interrupted. “Including a binder.”
The sheet flew open again and Lumberjack Beard unfurled himself from the depths of the fort like an expandable water toy. He looked down at us. “Who?”
Trixie scrambled out behind him, tugging the hem of her shirt around a pair of fleece pajama pants that seemed too baggy to be hers. “Team One’s Hulkling and Wiccan,” she said.
“God, I loved Young Avengers,” Lumberjack Beard said, stretching his arms over his head. “Why hasn’t that come back?”
Trixie whacked him in the side. “Ben, focus.”
He grunted. “Oh. Right. Nice kids.”
“Let’s go see this contraband,” Trixie said, crunching through the field. “And also maybe talk about why Meg’s team is wandering around after lights-out.”
“Again,” Ben said, skipping to keep up with her, “I’m not sure we have the moral high ground here.”
“You really don’t,” Brandon said.
“Also, I’m pretty sure that Harper bet the two of you that you couldn’t last three weeks living in the dorms,” I said to the back of Trixie’s orange hair as we all stepped onto the sidewalk. “And living in a field doesn’t count…”
Ben threw his head back and laughed. “Cold-blooded but so accurate.”
Trixie shot me a look, her steely irises particularly spectral in the starlight. “I’m not going to ask how and why you know about that stupid bet.”
“I’d guess Harper has succeeded in developing her telepathic gift,” Ben said. “Or she made Brandon spy on us again.”
“Surprisingly, no,” Brandon said.
“Again?” I echoed.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ben and Trixie said in unison.
Brandon rolled his eyes and took my hand. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I’m only moderately traumatized.”
“Did we or did we not get jobs here just to keep you company for the summer?” Trixie asked him with a sniff.
“Did you or did you not send the brochure to my parents?” he snapped.
“We didn’t,” Ben said, scuffing his heel on the pavement. “Meg did.”
“Hey, my one true love?” Trixie said, glaring up at her boyfriend. “Shut up.”
“I knew it was Meg,” Brandon grumbled. “It’s always Meg.”
Trixie threw her hands up. “You were really scared about not having the grades to get into a good school—”