“Your loss.”
He shrugs and drops the rubber mallet on my pile of soggy tent fabric. I valiantly resist the urge to pick it up and fling it at his head.
Beside me, Emily shudders.
I unclench my fists and turn to her. “You OK?”
“Just cold. Do you think…” Her eyes drift to the path behind us. The one that leads down to the river where we left the others. “Do you think they’re all right?”
“Oh, sure. Ms. Brighton is totally together. And Mr. Walker will get us out of here tomorrow. It’s no big deal.”
“You really think so?”
No, I think it’s an enormous deal, but freaking her out won’t help. It takes me a beat to find Emily’s dark eyes inside her plastic hood, but when I do, I smile.
“She’ll make it great,” I say. “She’ll probably have them building a new bridge out of repurposed water bottles or something.”
“Maybe she’ll sing the ancestor spirits song again.” Emily wrinkles her nose.
I laugh, remembering Ms. Brighton’s little fireside performance after all the ghost stories. “Yeah, Madison’s story was better. Dead people in the trees really sets the mood.”
Emily nods.
I look around, frowning. “OK, tell me the truth. Did someone really die out here?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, a girl. I mean, probably not like Madison told it at the fire. I doubt she was killed. That’s an urban myth.”
“God, it’s a creepy one though. Left to die by your friends. A bear dragging pieces of you out?” I shudder. “Let’s hope they don’t go there. They can make their own cool story.”
“Yeah, the night they froze to death, lost in the woods,” Emily says, shivering.
I position a stake now that I have my mallet back. “For me, it might be the night I go to jail for shoving a fistful of mud down Lucas Crane’s throat.”
I pull back to strike the metal stake. It folds like a taco, just like the first ones. That’s why I’d let Lucas take a turn with the mallet. Clearly, the break did not improve my ability. Whatever. I keep right on hammering, banging away until the bent metal is buried in mud. Success. Sort of.
This trip was supposed to be great. Mr. Walker practically promised mythical nirvana out here. We’d see mountains and ancient trees and unicorns that come to drink at sunset or some crap. Extremely remote, he said. Personally enlightening, Ms. Brighton added.
They pegged the remote part. We’re in Nowhere, West Virginia, where the only thing less common than people is cell phone reception. Of course, we’re not remote enough to get me away from the one boy I’m trying desperately to avoid.
“Sera?”
“Yeah?”
Emily’s eyes dart to the subject of my glare. “I know you and Lucas have a history.”
“We don’t…” There’s no way to finish because I don’t want to lie. Or explain. I trail off instead, drifting into the space my lies want to fill over.
None of it would have happened if I didn’t want that stupid stage scenery so badly. I could have made do, but I wanted real metal, and I have a way of getting what I want. Just like my mother.
I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, hating the way her smile forms in my memory. Oh, she would have loved Lucas. No. No, that’s not quite right. She would have loved everything about the way I am when I’m with him.
I push my mother’s face out of my mind, but another memory rushes in.
The scent of metal, as sharp as the hiss of the torch. Long sturdy tables and sparks that cascade to the ground, skittering like glowing insects. Our school is brightly colored murals and paint-spattered floors, but this room is different.
Lucas looks up when he sees me, the dark glass rectangle in his welding mask fixing on my face. Under the mask, he’s formed with the same angles and hollows as the shop around him.
I should tell him why I’m here, but I don’t. My gaze trails over his heavy-lidded eyes too long. I linger. And I know I shouldn’t.
“Be careful,” Emily says, pulling me back. “Do you know what he did to Tyler Kenton?”
If you’re within a hundred miles of Marietta, Ohio, you know what Lucas did to Tyler at the homecoming soccer game last year. If you’re smart, you remember it before you kiss him.
My lips quirk. “I think it’s required knowledge for graduation.”
I nudge each of the stakes with the toe of my boot. They’re a mess, but the tent feels sturdy enough. Maybe we won’t get blown away after all. I slam in the last two stakes and stand up as the rain tapers off. Mist clings to the trees and turns the air even colder.