More Than Good Enough(26)

After what seemed like forever, I finally gave up. I grabbed a rock and pitched it at a stump. “My dad’s gonna rip me a new one.”

“Let’s ask the ranger at the front entrance,” Pippa said.

I scanned the horizon, half-expecting the vultures to lift us into the sky. “That’s seven miles from here. We’re basically screwed. In a couple hours, this place will be so dark even a flashlight won’t help.”

“Are you serious? What are we supposed to do now?”

“Start walking.”

We headed back. Pippa had dragged the camera around all afternoon, yet we’d hardly shot any footage for the so-called Life Portrait documentary. I slid the bag off her shoulder and lifted the camera from its plastic case.

“At least get a light reading first,” Pippa muttered.

“It’s okay,” I said, though I knew she was right. I aimed the lens at her face. The sun was streaming in geometric angles behind her. She was sunburned and sweaty and so amazingly beautiful.

“The focus is off,” she said. “You didn’t even measure it.”

“You’re no fun.”

“What am I? The entertainment committee?”

“Not even close.”

“You’re no wilderness man, either. That’s pretty obvious. Bet you couldn’t even start a fire with a dead twig.”

“Out here? Number one, it’s too damp. Number two, I’d have the whole tribe on my ass. They’ve got their own police force and everything.”

“So whose side are you on?” she asked.

I lowered my head. I wanted to scream at her, throw stuff, go crazy. Instead, we both stayed quiet. That was the worst part.

Finally, I let her have it. “What a shitty thing to say, Pippa.”

“I’m sorry. God. I didn’t … I mean, it didn’t come out right. That was so wrong. I wasn’t trying to put you down.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s not what it sounded like.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe I should just staple my mouth shut.”

“For the record, I’m not about choosing sides.”

“I know.” Pippa stared at the ground. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Okay.” Here it comes.

“I see two people in front of me,” she said, “and I don’t know which is real. When we started hanging out again, I thought you were really cool. I mean, you didn’t judge me or anything. Now it feels like you’ve changed. Like you’re afraid of getting close to people. Or you think you’re not good enough.”

“It sucks that you see me like that.”

“True. But guess what? You’re more than good enough,” she said, and for a moment, I almost believed it.





nine



Me and Pippa sat on this decrepit bench near the ranger station, waiting for a human to show up. I wanted to kiss her again, but she wouldn’t even look at me. One minute, she’s all into it. The next minute, she’s acting like it never happened. I had no clue what was in her brain.

“Maybe we should call your dad,” she said.

I tried messing with my cell. No signal. Anyway, I didn’t plan on talking to Dad. He was the last person I wanted to deal with.

The shack was locked. I squinted through the window. On the desk, somebody had left a mug full of pencils, a Sudoku Magic puzzle, and a cigar smushed in a skull-shaped ashtray.

“Don’t stress,” I told Pippa. “He’s coming back. Trust me.”

We waited. I could only hope it was a ranger who’d dragged the bike off.

He finally materialized a half hour later. He was a little dude, sweat stains circling his arms, and he looked pissed.

“You guys have some explaining to do,” he said. It sounded like ’splaining.

I slid off the bench. “Why?”

“Because there’s been a theft on the property and we have reason to believe you’re involved.”

“Right. Somebody stole my bike.”

The ranger craned his neck, glaring up at me. “You’re Trent Osceola?”

“Aye, captain.”

“Your father called Flamingo,” he said, meaning the park’s main entrance. “Figured you’d be out here. Told us to keep an eye peeled.”

“Whatever,” I said. “Give me the bike and we’ll go.”

“He’s at the front office.”

“He is?”

Dad wasn’t supposed to drive. Did he take the Yeti? Of course he did. No doubt he was drunk off his ass. That’s for sure. I glanced over at Pippa. She was scraping at her thumbnail, stripping off flakes of glittery black polish.

“You better come with me,” the ranger said.

I didn’t argue.

He drove us to the office in his stupid SUV, the bumper plastered with Go Green! bumper stickers. So much for Mother Earth. When he spotted Pippa’s camera tucked between her feet, he went ballistic.

“Did you guys take movies inside the park?”

Pippa tried to nudge the camera deeper under the seat. “We only shot one roll.”

“No filming without a permit,” he said in this dead monotone, like he was hypnotized. He thumped the dashboard. “Don’t you know it’s against the law?”