You Have a Match(59)

“We’ll ease them in this way,” she reasoned. “We’ll ‘accidentally’ bump into them, chat them up, make it seem like our own parents said something about missing them, and nudge them in the right direction.”

“So lie to them.”

“It’s not lying. They clearly do miss each other. You saw those pictures.”

“Yeah. But Savvy…”

“But what?” Savvy asked.

I sighed. “Say we find them. Then what?”

“We draw them back to camp. Maybe they’ll be loosened up and it won’t be as weird.”

I raised my eyebrows, wondering when Savvy became the lawless one and I became the rule follower. I didn’t know what her night looked like, but I personally had a vested interest in never seeing those looks on my parents’ faces again.

I expected her to say something challenging—Got any better ideas?—but instead she tapped my camera, this quiet little pulse, like it was more a part of me than tapping my actual arm.

Her voice went quiet. “If we want to see each other ever again without them getting majorly pissed about it, this might be our only shot.”

Most of the fear deflated out of me. She was right. And it was even grimmer than that, considering we have another year and some change before I turn eighteen.

“And if your parents hate me?”

Savvy relaxed, recognizing she’d won me over. “Trust me,” she said, taking her hat off her head and putting it on mine. “They won’t.”

The only comfort I have is that my odds of running into them in the woods, specific trail or no, are somewhat slim. It’s not that I’m not committed to the plan—I do want them to get along, so we can get whatever happened out in the open and move on from it—but I am also acutely aware that I’m not exactly winning Kid of the Year out here, compared to her. Savvy is a trophy child. I’m more of a participation award.

I take Kitty with me, feeling like I shouldn’t be carrying Poppy’s camera around when I’m deliberately plotting against my mom. At some point the trail forks into one that’s clearly the main path and one that’s thin and steep and a little muddy. It takes a minute to maneuver myself up the muddy one without sliding down, but it’s worth it when I do. There are three deer, a fully grown one and two skittish, frozen little ones, all peering at me like we accidentally stepped through a veil into each other’s worlds.

“Hi,” I whisper, moving as slowly as I can for my camera. There’s a clearing beyond them, the sun’s rays peeking out from behind a cloud, crisscrossing their thin faces and the trees. I can already see the end result, and I’m salivating like the photo is something I can taste. “Stay right there, little buddies … ooooone second, and I’ll—”

“Dale, are you sure we can’t ask one of your friends with a boat to—”

The deer take off like rockets, and I’m sliding buttfirst down the hill to avoid them before the woman down below can even finish her sentence. I manage not to yelp, but there’s no chance of not giving myself away—I have transitioned so fully from girl to mud monster that I’m pretty sure I can feel some in my armpits.

“Savvy?”

I don’t know Savvy’s mom’s—Pietra’s—voice well enough to recognize it, but I do know the universe well enough to assume I have been completely screwed over. So it’s no surprise when I look up and Savvy’s parents are hovering over me with worried eyes, their faces shiny with sunscreen and shadowed by matching brimmed hats.

“Nope. Just the knockoff version,” I manage, pulling Savvy’s hat off.

Pietra shakes her head, embarrassed, before getting her wits about her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I have a sturdy butt.”

Thanks for nothing, brain-to-mouth filter.

“Let me help you up,” says Dale.

Before I can protest, he takes my hand and hoists me up so easily that my feet fully lift up from the ground before they find purchase in the mud again. I blink, righting myself, and they’re both gaping at me like they’ve seen a ghost.

Pietra looks away, her gaze a fixed line on her shoes, but Dale’s eyes widen on me. “You really do look like her.”

My face burns. “We’ve been getting that a lot.”

“No, not Savvy. Like Maggie,” he says.

I’m not used to hearing people say my mom’s first name, but Pietra reacts before I can.

“You’re bleeding,” she says, half scolding, half concerned. She touches my cheek, and I’m too stunned to react. She’s every bit as stunned at herself as I am. Like it’s something she’d do to Savvy, maybe, but only accidentally did to me.

My face is stinging, but I already know from experience that whatever it is, it’s not that bad. “I’m really fine.”

“Are you—”

“Your camera, on the other hand,” says Dale.

Kitty is lens-down in the glop, and not looking so hot. Dale picks her up for me, trying to wipe some of the mud off. He sucks some air between his teeth, making a grim prognosis. Pietra doesn’t look away from me for the whole exchange.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” I say, taking Kitty and saying a silent prayer up to the DSLR camera gods.