Starry Eyes(48)

Is this a joke? It must be. Right?

Gingerly, he props up larger branches over the sticks. “Reagan was going to leave last night, which was nuts. Kendrick and I had to convince her to stay until there was light to hike, and that we’d go back together. Earlier this morning, I thought I heard noise, but it wasn’t loud, so I fell back asleep. By the time I’d woken up again and gotten dressed, they were gone.”

He’s serious. This isn’t a joke.

I feel dizzy, so I sit on a boulder. “They left us? Summer and Kendrick too?”

“The last thing Kendrick and I talked about last night before I turned in was trying to estimate how much it would cost to hire a car at the glamping compound to drive him and Summer to his parents’ vacation home in Napa Valley.” He brushes off his hands and digs a lighter out of his jeans pocket. “But I didn’t think they’d just take off like that.”

“Without us?”

“Brett left me a note on the inside of that pack of cookies the bear ate. He basically said it was best we all parted ways to avoid further drama, and that he knew I could find my way back. Then I found the other note Reagan wrote outside your tent.”

Find your own way home.

He gestures toward the riverbank. “They left Brett’s destroyed tent and a bunch of the supplies. Guess Reagan is officially over camping. Nice of her to just leave a huge mess behind for us to clean up.”

“How long have they been gone? Can we catch up to them?” Why is he just calmly building a fire?

“Zorie,” he says, “if what I heard the first time I woke was the sound of them leaving, then they’ve been gone a couple hours. We’ll never catch up.”

“You could have woken me! We could have hustled!”

“I’ve only been awake for fifteen or twenty minutes. Don’t you get it? It was too late an hour ago. By the time we hike to the parking lot . . .”

They’ll have driven away already.

Okay. No need to panic. Just think. Make a new plan. What do we do now? It took us four hours to hike here from the parking lot. Another hour or so to drive back to the glamping compound, where we could catch a taxi or bus home. But we don’t have a car. “How long a hike on foot is it from the parking lot back to the glamping compound?”

“There aren’t shoulders on some of those mountain roads we drove. They aren’t made for hiking. Christ, they’re barely made for vehicles. You remember the drive here on that twisty main road.”

We nearly hit a couple of other vehicles coming in the opposite direction when rounding switchbacks. It was sort of scary, and I definitely wouldn’t want to be on that road in the rain or fog. Especially not on foot.

He shakes his head. “We’d be better off taking an actual walking trail the other way around the mountains, but that could take . . . a lot longer.”

“How much longer?”

“A day.”

“All day?”

“And night. We’d have to camp along the way. There’s no straight shot back to the compound from the parking lot out here.”

Holy crap. Is he serious?

“This can’t be happening,” I tell him as I pace across the shelter, trying to figure out what to do next. I’m absolutely panicking now and not even bothering to hide it. “They abandoned us in the middle of nowhere? It was just an argument!”

“Reagan was pretty upset.”

“Reagan? I’m the one who was humiliated.”

“There was a lot of humiliation handed out last night in all directions. Everyone was upset. After you left, Reagan cried . . . a lot. And yelled a lot. I think her Olympic failure is affecting her more than she lets on.”

I stare at him. “You’re taking her side?”

He holds up his hands. “Not taking her side. I don’t even like Reagan and, frankly, don’t understand why you and Avani were ever friends with her in the first place. You know how I’ve felt about her. That hasn’t improved over time, especially seeing how she’s given Avani the cold shoulder. I’m just saying that Reagan only pretends to be okay, but clearly she’s not. As stupid as Brett can be, even he knew it. Reagan’s been reaching out for anything to make her feel better, including him. After things calmed down last night, he told me that they’d been talking since spring break, while he was getting back together with his old girlfriend. But I guess they started officially hooking up after the Olympic trials fiasco.”

Jesus. Wait. Since spring break . . . ? That party—where Brett and I kissed—was during spring break.

“Did you know they were a couple before last night?” I ask. “Brett and Reagan?”

He shakes his head. “They kept it from me, too. If you haven’t noticed, Reagan has control issues. I guess when you and Brett got together at that party—”

OH, GOD. HE KNOWS.

“We weren’t together,” I say. “Not like that.”

“It’s none of my business.”

How does Lennon know about the kiss? Did Brett tell him? Of course he did. I don’t know why this upsets me so much, but I feel . . . exposed. “What exactly did Brett tell you?”

He averts his eyes and doesn’t respond.

“Oh, terrific,” I mutter. “Could this get any worse? It was just one kiss! And believe me when I say that I’m regretting it now.”