Return to You (Letters to Nowhere #3)(11)

LocalHero: You guys are all *s. Especially you, GrandMommy.

JunkCollector: badass routine. Until the end…

StevieDavisFan228: this was gymgasmic. Except for the dismount. But then again, hot guy diving to her rescue, not a bad way to go down, right?

I stuff my phone under the pillow, forcing myself to stop reading the idiotic comments, but as I lie there staring at the underside of the top bunk, I can’t keep my mind from drifting to these dark corners. Karen having secrets with TJ isn’t something I’m particular fond of, but it’s not a jealousy issue either. Not against TJ. But I wonder if Karen really is mine. I told Liberty that things were different with her, but I only know that because I’ve had the opportunity to have some messed-up relationships first.

Karen’s only had me. What if I’m her experimental phase?





CHAPTER SIX

~KAREN~





Dear Mom,

I’m keeping things from Jordan and I think he’s keeping things from me. Is this a bad sign? Or does it mean we’re becoming a real couple? I lost count of how many times you bought me something at the mall and said, “Don’t tell Daddy” and Dad was terrible about letting me have gobs of junk food and candy, saying, “Don’t tell Mom.” Maybe secrets are normal?

Love, Karen

***

I release TJ’s arm and shove him hard. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to the scavenger hunt.”

The frustrated groan that I release only makes him smirk at me. “You know what I mean. Jordan’s got enough to deal with. He’s spent enough time worrying about me. Besides, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Uh-huh.” TJ picks up his pace, walking a few steps ahead of me. “He’s your boyfriend, aren’t you supposed to cry on his shoulder and shit like that.”

“I’m not crying!” My increased volume projects a little farther than I would have liked and the three counselors that cross in front of us turn and give me strange looks. “Just back off, okay?”

He shrugs. “You’re the one who told me you’d do another bar dismount and then you didn’t. So what am I supposed to assume except that you’ve got some head issues.”

Point taken. I do have some head issues. “Just leave Jordan out of it, please.”

“Making more girls miserable, TJ?”

We both turn and see Stevie coming up the path, toting a giant flashlight, pointing it at various spots on the path and off to the sides. I’ve gotten the impression, rooming with her for nearly a week now, that she’s not too keen on bugs. And by that, I mean she’s petrified of them.

“The girls I know call it pleasure, not misery.”

Stevie rolls her eyes. “Well, I saw the girls you were coaching today and they looked miserable.”

TJ’s jaw tightens. “Whiny ass rich kids. It’s like they’re made of glass.”

“Or maybe you have the intuition of a pigeon,” she says, smiling sweetly.

I guess I should have known Stevie would have this fierceness inside her. She spent several years on top and I think that tough skin is the reason our former coach, Jim Cordes, always saw more potential in Stevie than in me. TJ can keep playing this banter game with her, but I don’t think he’s going to come out ahead.

“Are you going to the scavenger hunt?” I ask Stevie trying to break up the glare session between the two of them.

“No, I’m hitting the practice gym and run through my new choreography. I already cleared it with Nina.”

I’m immediately wishing I’d thought of getting excused from the tonight’s activities for some extra practice time. Not just to stay up there with Stevie, though that is a priority, but also because this morning’s falling incident in front of almost the entire camp, plus the YouTube video that I’d heard was online—I’m not letting myself look at it— makes hiding out in a near empty gym sound like a good idea right about now.

“Well, good luck with your practice session,” TJ says to Stevie. “I’m sure all that dancing around and finger-flicking fun will do wonders for your crappy tumbling.”

Oh boy…

I turn my walk into a jog so I don’t have to hear Stevie’s rebuttal.

***

I’m driving my dad’s car. I’m driving and they’re in the back. Why am I driving? There’s no time to process this fact before the semitruck hits us head-on. I should be hurting, I should be crushed to death, but suddenly I’m in the grass on the side of a dark interstate.

And they’re lying beside me. My parents. Whole, but barely. Bruised and bloody. And dead. They’re dead. Grief crushes me from all sides, pressure so heavy against my chest that my mind fights it. Fights the dream. And I shoot upright, smacking my head into Stevie’s bed above me. My heart is pounding against my chest with such force I can barely take in air. I grapple around in the dark for my flashlight and even though I know that I need to figure out a way to deal with this on my own, I can’t seem to stop my feet from moving in the direction of our cabin door.

A section of my mind is still lost in the horror of that dream and it causes me to run, instead of walk, to the cabin next door, half expecting to spot dead bodies lying on the ground. Even with the noise from the woods, I still hear that blaring sound of the semi barreling at us, the driver laying on the horn the whole time. My hands and legs are trembling by the time I open the door to my old cabin. I click my flashlight off before entering Jordan and TJ’s room, hoping only to wake the bottom bunk resident. My teeth are chattering noisily from both the fear and the cool night air.