Something in the Way (Something in the Way #1)(52)

“Each morning, we’ll sing a special song to begin the day,” Gary said. “I discovered it earlier this year and thought—that song has a great message. You might’ve heard it on the radio. ‘Shine’ by Collective Soul is about the quest for guidance and acceptance. It has religious undertones, but you can sing it however it makes sense to you. But first, I want each cabin to come together and decide what they’re grateful for on this beautiful morning. The counselors will share it with the group.”

We huddled with the girls, who looked as energized and excited as they had getting on the bus the morning before.

“What are we grateful for?” Hannah asked.

“That we don’t have to clean up our mess today,” Bettina said.

“You’re grateful for Bobby Newman,” one of the girls teased.

Hannah and I looked at each other. “Let’s try for something a little deeper,” I said. “Any ideas, Hannah?”

“How about if we’re grateful for each other?” Hannah asked. “Friendship.”

“Three Musketeers,” Katie added. “It’s my favorite candy.”

“Friendship it is,” Hannah said.

Gary called everyone’s attention back to the front. “Friendship” came up three times before Manning’s turn. “We’re grateful for a lot of things,” he said, scanning the faces of the boys in his cabin. “But today, we’d like to say our thanks for the release of Mortal Kombat II last month. As a cabin, we agree that this is one of the best things to happen this year so far.”

Everyone stayed silent until Gary burst into laughter. “All right. That’s a new one. Videogames. I like it. Who wants to go next? Cabin four?”

I glanced at the girls and then at Hannah, who nodded and mouthed, Candy.

I sighed. “Cabin four is grateful for . . . Three Musketeers bars.” The girls cheered. “And,” I added when they’d calmed down, “having someone to share them with.”

Gary clapped. “Good one, cabin four.”

As it turned out, despite a morning of good intentions, large breakfasts, and lots of laughter, everything came crashing down when I checked our schedule for the day. Right off the bat, we were headed for danger—horseback riding. It wasn’t even my fear that bothered me. It was that I’d miss out on sharing it with the girls.

As a group, we walked from the dining hall through dirt and dead grass toward the stables. “Look, there’s Bobby Newman,” Katie squealed, pointing. I spotted a couple more boys from Manning’s cabin. Then his co-counselor Kirk. Like a trail of breadcrumbs, my eyes followed until they landed on Manning as he helped a camper up onto a saddle.

“We’re paired with them today?” I asked Hannah.

“Looks like it.”

Now, hanging back at the stable was even worse. I’d not only be missing out on quality time with the girls, but with Manning as well.

“Want me to stay behind with you?” Hannah asked. “I’m sure Manning and the instructors can handle it.”

I turned and squinted at the stables. The horses were beautiful . . . and enormous. If possible, they seemed even bigger than the year before. A small part of me wanted to be brave just so I wouldn’t miss this time with Manning.

“It’s okay,” I told Hannah. “The girls will want you there.”

One of the handlers came out of the stable in cowboy boots. He waved at the girls. “Who wants to ride a horse?” They screamed and took off running toward him. For a moment, he looked terrified, but quickly recovered. “Okay, okay. Slow down. You don’t want to spook the poor things.”

“You or the horses?” Hannah teased.

Manning looked up at the commotion. Once he’d secured his camper, he came over to us. “I’ve never ridden a horse. Believe that?”

That he’d never climbed on the back of a wild animal and expected it do what he said? Yes, I believed that. What sane person would? I bit my thumbnail. “Me, neither.”

“It’ll be a first for us both, then. Come on.”

Hannah followed, but I stayed where I was. Horses on the ground didn’t frighten me—it was the thought of getting on and letting go. What stopped the horse from doing whatever the hell it wanted? What if it suddenly had some kind of psychotic break? I’d never broken a bone, and I didn’t want to start today.

The handler came out with a shiny, black horse, scanned the crowd, and started toward me. “You’re going to ride Betsy Junior,” he said.

I looked around to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else. “Me?”

“She’s a little on the wild side, but she’s not as bad as her mom. Better if a counselor takes her.”

I tried to back away, but my feet were suddenly made of lead. Betsy had black eyes and didn’t blink, as if she were trying to send me a message—touch me and I’ll buck you into a tree. Betsy Junior neighed, a sinister laugh. “I can’t,” I said. I was too young to die. I’d never even been kissed or learned how to drive. “I’m going to sit this one out.”

“What’s wrong?” Manning asked from behind me, and I jumped. Where had he come from?

“I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”