Starry Eyes(64)

New information: Lennon’s dad died. He didn’t tell anyone.

Where does this fit into our friends-to-enemies road map?

All this time, I thought he’d freaked before the homecoming dance and decided that he didn’t want to go public with our relationship. That our experiment had failed, and he was too much of a coward to tell me to my face.

And yet he just blew up at me about not being there at his dad’s funeral. Now I feel like he’s bitter about our breakup—that somehow this is my fault.

What am I missing?

I crawl outside my tent, but Lennon isn’t around. The light inside his tent shows the dark silhouette of his backpack. He’s dumped my pack in front of my tent, as if to signal that we’re done talking for the night.

Well, I have news for him. We’re not.

I’m too chicken to trample after him in the dark and definitely don’t want to catch him heeding the call of nature behind the bushes. So I wait by the fire’s glowing embers, hugging myself to keep the chill away. He was right. The stars are amazing out here. I find the constellation Cygnus, and then Lyra right next to it, but I’m too upset to appreciate what normally brings me joy.

Several minutes pass, and Lennon doesn’t come back. Now I’m worried, and a little angry. We need some kind of system. He should tell me where he’s going so I don’t sit around wondering if I should go look for him. What if he’s attacked by a bear or falls off the cliff?

Anxious and irritated, I retreat into my tent and roll out my sleeping bag. Take off my shoes. Put them back on. Take them off again, because my ankle feels better with them off, and then decide to change quickly into my loungewear for sleeping. Halfway through, I remember that the light in the tent shows everything, so I turn it off and dress in the dark.

Guess he’s getting the last word after all.

I don’t hear Lennon until I’m zipped up inside my sleeping bag, wishing that we were sleeping on softer ground instead of the unforgiving rock of the cave floor. I listen to his movements, and hear him doing something to the campfire’s embers—putting them out, I suppose—before he enters his tent.

The cave amplifies every sound. Zippers zipping. Plastic crinkling. Rummaging. He clears his throat, and it makes me jump. Then his light goes out, and after some rustling, all the noise stops.

And the silence is oppressive.

This is crazy. I can’t sleep while I’m upset. And what’s worse, my mind begins pulling up other anxieties. My swollen ankle. Snakes. Shadows moving inside the caves. Lennon’s stupid manga story about people-shaped holes in the side of the mountain. And then I can’t take it anymore.

“Lennon?” I say quietly.

No answer.

I try again, this time louder. “Lennon?”

“I heard you the first time.” His voice is muffled yet close. I imagine where he is in relation to me and wonder if I could stretch my arm out and touch him if the tents weren’t there.

“Remember when you thought you saw a shadow move in the caves? What if there really was someone creeping around and that someone comes out here?”

“They probably already would have if they were going to.”

“Or they could be waiting to murder us in our sleep.”

“Or that.”

“I’m serious,” I tell him.

“What do you want me to do about it, Zorie?”

He doesn’t have to be so grumpy. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, when you think of something, let me know.”

I blow out a long breath.

“Hey, Lennon?”

“Still hearing you,” he says.

“Are you sure there aren’t any tiny holes in this cave?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Holes snakes can slither through.”

I hear him cursing under his breath. “I’m sure. No holes. Go to sleep, Zorie.”

Yeah, that’s not happening.

“Hey, Lennon?” I whisper.

“Oh my God!”

I wince and grit my teeth in the dark. “So, I was just thinking. Since there’s a possibility that shadowy cave trolls may sneak out here to murder us, you should probably keep your hatchet handy. Just in case.”

“I sleep with it next to me.”

“You do?”

“Just in case.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” I argue. “That makes me feel like there really are threats out here at night.”

“Of course there are. Do you see any door you can lock? We’re completely unprotected out here. Anything could happen.”

I sit up in my sleeping bag. “Hey, listen.”

“I didn’t know I had a choice,” he mumbles.

I ignore that. “I think you should sleep in here.”

Silence. For several seconds. Then he says, “Um, what?”

“This tent is for two people,” I tell him. “I’m not trying to exchange body heat, as you so eloquently put it earlier. It’s just that I would feel better if you were in here when I get murdered by the cave troll.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Lennon?”

“I heard you.”

“Well?”

“I’m thinking.”