Starry Eyes(73)

“I see.”

He gestures toward the ranger station. “Unless you’ve decided to go home.”

Have I? I’ve been thinking about that decision the entire afternoon. Along with everything that he told me about homecoming. And about the kiss.

Definitely thinking about the kiss.

I could continue on. (But what if we end up fighting?)

I could call for a ride home. (But what if I regret not staying?)

The energy between us feels heightened, strained, and slightly awkward. But Lennon is patient, not pushing me to decide, and for that, I’m grateful. He glances at his phone. “Still no service. There should be a phone inside the station.”

“I should call my mom, at least,” I say. “Just to let her know I’m alive.”

His gaze intensifies. He’s studying my face, trying to figure out what I’m going to do. If I knew that, I’d just tell him.

“Me too,” he finally says. “And I need to report the abandoned gear Reagan and Brett left behind. Shall we?”

I nod and take a deep, steadying breath as we head to the door to the ranger station and step inside.

The single-room cabin is dim and cozy. Though the floor plan is small, the high ceiling is crossed with rough wooden beams, which makes it feel larger. There’s a small desk at the front and a rack of local wilderness travel books for sale. In the middle of the room, a couple of chairs huddle around an old heating stove, and in the back, near a giant wall map of the park, there’s an old pay phone.

“Evenin’,” a ranger says with a quiet smile. “We’re about to close for the day.”

“We’ll be quick,” Lennon assures him before gesturing me toward the phone, eyes hooded. “You want to go first?”

I make my way past the chairs while Lennon begins telling the ranger about Reagan and Brett’s abandoned gear. I’m worried that the national park might get judgmental about a couple of teens backpacking alone. But it seems fine, because Lennon sounds confident and knowledgeable, and the ranger is taking him seriously. They aren’t paying attention to me, and that gives me to time to take a deep breath and focus.

Stay or go?

Go or stay?

If I stay, I don’t think Lennon and I can just forget about everything that’s happened and go back to being just friends. That much I know. There’s too much history between us, and that kiss pretty much wiped out an entire year’s worth of trying to bury old feelings. Now I’m right back where I was, ribs cracked open and heart exposed.

I wish I could ask Mom for advice, but if she knew I was out here alone with Lennon . . . Well, it’s not so much her I worry about as my dad. But he’d find out eventually. I wish I had time to think out exactly what I need to say to her. Maybe write out a script. But the station is about to close, and if I’m going to call her, it’s now or never.

It takes me a little while to figure out how to use the ancient pay phone, but after reading the posted instructions, I dig out some quarters and slip them inside. Then I dial my mom’s cell phone.

“Joy Everhart,” my mom’s voice says, crackling over the line.

“Mom?”

“Zorie? Is that you? Are you okay?” She sounds frantic.

“I’m totally fine,” I tell her, looking up at the giant map hanging on the wall. “I’m in King’s Forest.”

Her exhalation is loud. “Dammit, Zorie. I was so worried. You didn’t answer my texts.”

“No service out here,” I say. “We talked about that, remember?”

“We did. You’re right,” she says. “But it’s a relief to hear your voice. Wait, did you say you’re in the national park? Why aren’t you at the glamping compound?”

“Um . . .” Do I tell her what happened? I hate lying to her. But if I stay here with Lennon, I can’t tell her that’s what I’m doing. Now that I’m forced to make a decision, I close my eyes and just let whatever comes out of my mouth be my choice.

One, two, three—

“Remember how I told you we might go on that backcountry trail?” I say. “That’s where I am. I’m hiking to the star party.”

Oh my God, I’m doing this. I’m staying with Lennon?

I am.

Relief rushes through me, unknotting my shoulders and loosening my limbs.

“I can barely hear you. Did you say you’re hiking to Condor Peak?” Mom asks, her voice going up an octave. “I thought you were taking the bus. Are you hiking alone?”

“It’s not that far and I’m not alone,” I assure her. “Dr. Viramontes and Avani will be at the star party to meet me when I get there.”

“Okay, but who are you with now?”

Crap on toast. Why didn’t I write a script? “We changed our plans for the week. And I’m with a guide, so you don’t have to worry.”

“A guide?”

“Someone who really knows the wilderness. Right now we’re in a campground at a ranger station.”

“Zorie—”

“It’s fine, I promise. There are families camping here and a park ranger. I’m completely safe. Please trust me. I need you to trust me, or I can’t enjoy this. You told me to be careful, not cautious, remember?”