Page 14 of Puck Your Friend

Ford lingers near me a second longer, eyes tracking mine. I look away first.

He lowers his hands. “Please. Don’t leave until we can talk.”

I hesitate and then nod.

Glenlow claps his hands again when the guys don’t move fast enough.“Let’s go, ladies! Move like you mean it!”

Logan adjusts the straps of his pads and shoulders. Jace flips his stick once, grinning as he tosses it over his shoulder with a little spin. Wes, slower than the others, in jeans and a loose jersey, falls into step behind them with Ford following up the rear after grabbing his stick and helmet.

It’s then I notice the wide black bands on their wrists. The bracelets I made.

They still have them?

Chapter 4

11 years ago… (age 15)

My aunt showed me how to do the peyote stitch over the winter break. We sat at the kitchen table with bead trays, thread, and needles. Every time the tension went off, she would make me start over. She said the first row set the tone. If it twisted, the whole thing would unravel.

After a ton of practice, I went online and bought Miyuki beads in several shades. They’re uniform and look the best. I wanted the bracelets made of something that will last the longest.

Stitching them together makes my brain quiet as my hands go on autopilot. I made several practice bracelets before I got it right. Now I can do the design in my sleep.

Marcy groans. “I swear this cabin’s got the worst light. I can’t even see my cuticles.”

I glance over at her and Tasha at the small table. They’ve been leaving me alone so far, and it has me on edge.

Why are they being civil this year?

Brielle sits up and checks her hair in the mirror nailed to the bunk frame. “What time is the horn for the mud run?”

Tasha pulls out a color and opens it. “It’s in ten minutes, but I thought we were skipping it this year. I don’t want to get mud in my braids. I just got them done.”

Brielle snorts. “I said nothing about us joining, but we could go to the finish line and cheer on all the hot Alphas who will be muddy and shirtless.”

Shit, I need to go. I’m running the mud race this year. We’re finally old enough to do the 5k mud run and not just the one mile one for the littler kids.

The first ones to finish get first pick at team signups and tournament entries for the next four weeks. Then there will be another challenge for the next round of signups for the last four weeks of camp. I want to sign up for basketball, swimming, baseball, and volleyball. The overnight hikes could be fun, too.

I pinch the last black bead in place and run the thread back through the edge to lock the row before I add more beads on for the clasp.

My fingers work fast. I slide the magnetic clasp and the tiny silver tree charm into position and stitch it into place. It snaps shut when I press the ends together. They work and hold. Then I thread the tail back through the edge beads until it’s hidden.

The bracelet is done. The last one. And boy, does it feel good. Four months to finish all four, but now I can give them to the guys.

I wrap it in the cloth with the others. Each one has the same layout. Black base, tree of life in the center and diamond shapes in the main color—I chose different colors for each of them—and then chevrons in a darker matching shade.

Kneeling by the footlocker at the end of my bunk, I lift the lid. The cloth bundle slips into place under my sweatshirt and I close it. I tug my shirt over my head, leaving me in my navy high-impact sports bra with criss-cross back straps and matching high-waisted fitness shorts.I’ve heard the mud gets into everything, so I want to wear as little as possible without being indecent and that’s easy to move in.

I grab my travel duffle and put my shirt, some pants, towel, bra, underwear, and an extra pair of sneakers in it.

Pulling on my other sneakers, I twist my hair into a bun.

Brielle clears her throat. “Good luck, Fran.”

I glance over my shoulder at her.

Did Hell freeze over and I didn’t get the memo?