Starry Eyes(44)

I look around. “Um, where is Brett?”

“I’m here,” a voice says. Brett’s curly head peeks out from behind a tree, and he puts up a hand to shield his eyes from the dueling lights of Lennon’s headlamp and Summer’s flashlight.

“Did you not put the lid on your food?” Lennon says, suddenly livid.

“Of course I did,” Brett says, surveying the damage with his phone. He’s videoing everything. “Holy crap. That bear really went to town, didn’t he?”

“This isn’t funny,” Lennon says. “And you didn’t put the lid on, or the bear wouldn’t have smelled the food.”

Brett’s eyes tighten. “I said I put it on, dude. The canister was defective.”

“Hmm,” Kendrick says, squinting at the tent. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s a lid and it screws on. How could it be defective?”

“It’s not. He forgot to put it on,” Lennon says.

Brett bristles. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“I don’t know,” Lennon replies. “Are you?”

“Whoa,” Reagan says. “Everyone calm down. Lennon, if Brett says it was defective, it was.”

Lennon stands and gets in Brett’s face. “Where were you?”

“Hey, stop shining that damn headlamp in my eyes,” Brett complains.

“Just now. You weren’t with the group. Where were you? Did you run from the bear?”

“Um, no.”

Lennon gestures dramatically. “I told you not to run. They see you as prey, and they’ll chase you. Black bears can run faster than humans.”

“Not Reagan,” Brett says, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Yes, even Reagan,” Lennon insists. “Even freaking Usain Bolt, if the bear was angry and charging at full speed. That one there was easily three hundred pounds. It could have killed any one of us.”

“Dude, you need to chill,” Brett says, getting annoyed. “Your holier-than-thou shit is starting to stink.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll stop preaching when you pay attention and quit treating this like a game.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“You neglected to put the lid on your canister,” Lennon says, stabbing a finger in the air accusingly. “Then you ran from the bear after I said not to.”

Brett roughly pushes Lennon. “Guess what? You aren’t in charge, dude.”

Lennon shoves Brett’s shoulder. “You put us all in danger, dude.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Kendrick says, getting between the two boys and forcing them apart. “We’re not gonna do this. Let’s all relax and figure it out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Lennon says.

Reagan steps into the circle. “Hey! Maybe you need to consider that Brett’s telling the truth.”

“Thank you, Reagan,” Brett says, still angry. “I’m glad someone here trusts me.”

Everyone tries to talk at once. Kendrick wants people to settle down. Lennon wants Brett to admit that he’s wrong. Reagan wants Lennon to leave Brett alone. Summer wants to know if the bear is going to come back—which is something I think we all need to consider. So with her help, I start packing Brett’s food remnants inside the now-empty bear canister, sweeping up cookie crumbs into my palm. My eyes fall on the canister lid, poking out from the rubble.

It crosses my mind that all I’d need to do is pick it up and test it out on the canister to see if Brett was lying about it being faulty. Do I want to know? If Brett was lying, he’ll look like an idiot. Or Lennon might kill him. Conflicting emotions swirl inside my chest, so I continue cleaning up, avoiding the lid.

“This is a wreck,” Summer says when the arguing dies down, lifting up a piece of shredded tent. “I know we talked about wild animals, but I swear, in a million years, I never really believed we’d see one. Like, maybe some squirrels or rabbits. But not this.”

That makes two of us.

Sullen, Lennon kneels at my side and picks up a dented can.

“Did you see any bears when you were out here before?” Summer asks Lennon. “Is that how you knew what to do?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve seen them alongside bigger trails in other parts of the park, but they always kept their distance. This one is way too comfortable around people. I think I need to report it, so that the rangers can keep an eye on this area. But right now, we need to make sure the food is contained so that it doesn’t come back.”

“And figure out what to do about this tent,” I say, glancing at Brett. “I don’t think you can sleep here.”

Summer shrugs at Brett. “You can just sleep in Reagan’s tent. I mean, you’d end up there, anyway, right? No biggie.”

My body goes rigid.

“Uh-oh,” Summer murmurs. “Sorry, guys. I know I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

I glance from Summer to Reagan and Brett. “Are you two . . . together?”

Brett turns around and mumbles something to Reagan that I can’t hear as he takes a couple of steps toward the river.

“Reagan?” I say. “Is it true?”

“Zorie . . .” She squeezes her eyes shut.