Page 5

A ll at once, I shot up in my sleeping bag, disoriented and confused because I hadn’t even recalled falling asleep. To my left, Nick’s snoring rattled like a freight train, but that couldn’t have been what woke me.

We shared a bedroom, so his band saw nose wasn’t exactly foreign.

Based on the rapid pace of my heart and gasping breaths, whatever I’d been dreaming about hadn’t been pleasant. A vague recollection of a dark form looming over me flashed behind my eyes, and the more I tried to concentrate on it, the more the cold crept in.

Great, another nightmare.

I wiped the back of my wrist across my forehead and flopped onto my pillow, trying to calm my nerves a bit. After lying there with no change for five minutes, I blew out a huffy, bothered breath and unzipped my sleeping bag.

My socks and shoes were close by just in case this happened, so no fumbling around in the dark was necessary. Once I got them on, I crept over to my dad’s bedroll, gently shaking him awake.

“Mm-hmm, huh? Yeah?” he murmured, barely conscious.

My dad was not an easy target to coax from sleep. I waited until one eye pried itself open, and I spied just a sliver of a golden-brown iris so much like my own.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Just wanted to let you know.”

His eyelid closed briefly, and I didn’t have time to debate whether I needed to try again before both blinked open. He squinted at me.

“A bad one, huh?” he asked.

I considered claiming it was just a bathroom run, but even Nick could tell when I’d had a rough night. Along with my weird diabetes, it was also something they’d learned to deal with.

I nodded.

“You okay?”

Another nod.

That was enough reassurance for him, because he rolled onto his side, facing away. He yawned loudly and then mumbled, “Don’t get kidnapped.”

“Gee, Dad. Jinx me, why don’t you?” I whispered back, but he was already slipping back into la-la land, hunkering down into his fluffy nest of blankets.

I shook my head with exasperated fondness before crawling out. The temperature hadn’t cooled down much, but goosebumps still rose when the night air hit my bare arms and legs. Struggling to pull on pants over my sleep shorts in the dark seemed like too much work, but I did snag my dad’s sweater that he’d loaned me earlier during my diabetic attack.

I zipped it up over my tank top and felt tenfold better.

The moon shone high in the sky, only filtering its light through the canopy of trees. Dying ruby embers dotted the campsites as campfires slowly burned out in their metal pits. A handful of bluish white lanterns cast a soft glow beside several tents, but other than that, the night was still. No one appeared to be awake, so it’d probably be safe to make a bathroom run without bumping into anyone else I knew. I suspected Ralph Buchanan’s mysterious “we” included more classmates from school.

I paused, allowing my eyes time to adjust to the dark. It would be just my luck for me to stumble over a branch, collapse into a folding chair, launch into some freshly washed pans with a clang of metal, and trip into those glowing ruby embers of someone’s slowly dying fire all in one go. Inanimate objects tended to jump into my path. It was a regular occurrence.

With measured steps, I crossed camp, my ears perked for any noises.

Being wired and attuned to catch the slightest noise was probably the only reason I heard the lumbering shuffle of something large headed my way. My gaze shot up, scanning the darkness for the approaching beast. When I spotted the figure, my eyes rounded even more.

Oh.

Not a beast.

Well, not truly.

My body jerked into action, having just enough time to reach the edge of the woods and duck into a crouch.

Even in the dead of night, I’d recognized the figure. Hunter Armstrong was hard to miss. Since starting high school, even as a freshman, he was the largest, most built guy in school. His dirty blond hair shone silver in the moonlight like his gray eyes. He had a strong, masculine... well, everything, from his chiseled jaw to his booted feet.

His sheer size alone ensured that even the less socially inclined people knew who he was by sight, if not by name, and I’d almost run right into him.

He disappeared inside the building I’d been aiming for to do his business, leaving me no choice but to wait him out.

That shower block was cursed.

It was the absolute last place in the park I’d want to encounter classmates, yet it’d been a hotbed of activity. The temptation to avoid it at all costs rose and fell in the same breath, since I didn’t fancy digging a hole in the woods any time I wanted to use the restroom—not to mention, just thinking of the forest, teeming with spiders, broke me out in a cold sweat.

The reminder of my eight-legged nemeses was enough to bring a crawling sensation up my arms, and I gave the surrounding bushes, once my savior and now my potential nemesis, a distrustful look. My mind was so busy searching for creepy-crawlies that when something big landed on my shoulder, I couldn’t quite swallow the scream that bubbled up and slipped out before I remembered I was hiding, though I tried my best. The sound morphed into a strange but much quieter squeak.

The grip—a hand and not some hybrid monster spider as my brain had immediately imagined when the heavy weight dropped down—spun me. All the while, the person shushed and assured me that he meant no harm.

I couldn’t recall ever hearing Hunter’s voice before, so at first, my mind said he was sneaking up on me, even as my eyes denied it. Honestly, who else could it have been at God-knows-when in the morning?

Apparently, someone a lot sneakier than Hunter Armstrong’s great lumbering shuffle, because it definitely wasn’t Hunter. There was only one entrance and exit to that bathroom, and I’d only taken my eyes off it for a split second to scan for spiders.

Despite being out of any beams of moonlight, the figure before me wasn’t quite massive enough to be Hunter. Also, instead of blond hair and gray eyes, this guy’s features were either black or dark brown.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, quickly retracting his hand and holding both in the air as if I was the one stalking and startling innocent victims in the woods and not him. “Don’t scream. I was following a friend and saw you in the bushes. I wanted to check if everything was okay.”

My eyes squinted a little more. He didn’t sound like a psychopath. Even so, my racing heart refused to relinquish its punishing pace.

The guy had crouched like me, but his frame dwarfed the hiding spot I’d claimed. Folded in half like he was, he could maybe even be as tall as Hunter. It was hard to tell. Everyone seemed tall to me, but, as I’d said, no one in town was quite as big as Hunter.

Still, this guy was not someone I’d want to tangle with in a dark alley… or a lit alley… or any alley… or anywhere at all.

Most certainly not out on the edge of the woods of a ten-thousand acre state park.

My continued silence prompted him to rub his neck then look away. “Are you okay?”

I had to clear my throat twice to respond. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Scrambling to come up with something else to say to break the awkward silence, I added, “You’re friends with Hunter?” The guy’s head snapped around to meet mine. “You said you were following a friend,” I added when he stayed silent.

“No, you’re right. That’s who I was following. You know Hunter?”

I let out a small laugh. “Who doesn’t know Hunter Armstrong?”

He grinned, displaying nice white teeth and deep hollows in his cheeks as he edged closer and paused in a beam of light. A sharp widow’s peak gave off handsome vampire vibes, especially combined with his thick eyebrows and sculpted cheekbones. My hunch about Ralph Buchanan’s “we” consisting of fellow classmates was correct as I recognized the boy in front of me now bathed in the moonlight.

It was Ben freaking Pierce, star lineman on the football team’s offensive line.

Big indeed , I thought to myself as I recalled my initial assessment of him. The linemen were the biggest boys on the field.

I had a hunch that there’d be a fourth boy here because wherever Ben was, his football friend, Kole Keiser, was never far away.

“If you know Hunter, then you must be a Wolverine.” Ben’s voice rolled out deep and smooth in the dark.

“Huh?” was my dumb response.

Ben released a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck once more. “West Winsor Wolverines? Never mind. I figured you went to our high school if you knew—”

“Oh!” My brain kick-started itself. “Yeah, I do! I mean, I go there. That’s how I knew…” I waved my hand around, debating what to say. Ben hadn’t recognized me, so did I play it cool? “Uh, well... I thought I recognized the Jeep from somewhere.”

Was that a sane response?

“That’s Hunter’s.” Ben grinned as he considered me for a moment. “You must be the girl Ralph was talking about earlier.”

My eyes widened. I wasn’t sure what to do with such a loaded statement. Ralph mentioned our embarrassing interaction? On one hand, I wanted to melt into the forest floor. On the other… butterflies took flight in my chest.

Luckily, no response was necessary.

“He said you were in a hurry and he didn’t get the chance to introduce himself.”

Yikes, that statement killed the budding joy that’d been warring with my nerves for dominance. Instead, the bubbling butterflies fled, conceding defeat and giving way to awkwardness. Considering how well I knew Ralph Buchanan—we were country neighbors, we rode the same bus together, and we’d been in the same classes since elementary—the need for an introduction stung.

“Oh,” I replied lamely, not sure what to say, but Ben wasn’t finished.

He winked. “Since I’m smart enough to avoid his mistakes, let me grab the chance now in case you have to hurry off.” Ben proffered his hand, and my heart exploded back into motion as I clasped it. “I’m Ben Pierce. I’ll be a senior this year. I like football, moonlit walks around camp, and apparently stalking my friend to the bathroom.”

Ben’s last comment startled a laugh out of me, even as I marveled at the way his hand engulfed my own. It was a surreal moment, standing here in the middle of a camp at night and being introduced to one of the biggest names on the football team.

The handshake stretched out long enough for it to break me from my fangirl-induced mental freak-out and realize that things could get awkward pretty fast if he thought I was hanging on like a manic crush.

I tugged my hand, but he tightened his grip—not much, but enough to make it clear that I’d have to yank if I wanted to get free.

My eyes widened and flew up to his face.

He noted my startled expression and flashed a wide grin. “This is the part where you introduce yourself back. I don’t want you getting busy and running out of time like you did with Ralph, the poor guy. He hasn’t stopped whining about it since lunch.”

That soothed some of the insult from not being recognized by a boy I’d basically grown up with—well, grown up adjacent with—but then the smoothness of Ben’s words registered.

I choked on my spit. Somehow, I’d imagined that Ben Pierce got by on just looks and his athlete status alone. It was hazardous to my health knowing he was funny as well. A cough escaped before I cleared my throat. “Uh, his loss, your gain, right?”

Holy sweet mother of Thor. Did I just flirt with him?

Ben’s grin stretched, nearly splitting that perfectly sculpted face. “That’s what I’m hoping.”

Oh my spicy, deep-fried Twinkie on a stick… Was he flirting back?

My brain short-circuited and vacated the premises, and that’s when I noticed a hazy outline materializing from thin air.

No, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be another hallucination. Not now.

Sure, he was talking and laughing with me, and more than anything, I wanted to stay.

How could I though? The second I acted like a crazy person, he’d react just like everyone else had in elementary school. My mouth dropped open, and my eyes flew to Ben’s face, where his brows had slowly lowered, probably at the startled look overtaking my expression.

To compound matters, a chill engulfed me, fast and fierce.

So on top of seeing things that weren’t there, I needed food, and I needed it yesterday. If I waited too long, I’d pass out.

That was my only goal as I stuttered out a half-hearted goodbye and rushed off. “Sorry! I have to go!”

The abrupt turn of conversation must have thrown Ben, because I slipped my hand free this time without a struggle. I heard the brush rustle as he took a couple of steps to follow me.

“Wait,” he began, but I didn’t stop.

The hallucination grew stronger as shivers racked my body. The amorphous, white blob that’d been just over Ben’s shoulder had begun keeping pace with me, becoming more distinct and growing in size and shape.

It grew so large that I had to dodge around it when it abruptly cut into my path, not wanting to know what would happen if it touched me. My brain already told my body the air became colder in proximity to it, so if I accidentally stumbled through it, would my mind just spaz out and send me into convulsions?

One advantage in this mess was that the blob released a glow that somehow lit the ground and all its tree roots, dips, and rocks.

How could anyone scientifically explain that? If this was a hallucination, then why did I suddenly possess the powers of night vision?

Maybe the lack of blood sugar affected the vision centers in my brain, dilating my pupils and helping me see better. Who knew?

The point was, it helped, as Ben cursed somewhere behind me, stumbling over a branch I’d already stepped over. That was what mattered. Ben could tackle the biggest and best, so the light helped me escape—even if it was the reason an escape was necessary.

Glass half full, Willa.

I was preoccupied with getting to food and not touching any part of the hallucination that seemed determined to follow me, but even still, my inner voice railed at me for the abrupt departure as I hightailed it out of there with all the terror of a robber dropped in the middle of an international cop convention.

I couldn’t have taken two seconds to say, “My name’s Willa. Oh, hey, I’ve got to go. I think I left the fire on. Ha-ha,” or maybe, “Wouldn’t want to hurt Ralph’s feelings by introducing myself to you and not him, so I should go before I break his heart,” but noooo .

My brain supplied witty, mysterious remarks after the situation. It happened anytime I had an intimidating conversation. During, my mind would be a blank slate, but after, it’d rub the humiliating experience in further by replaying the interaction on an endless loop, all while supplying a million smart things I could have said.

I’d literally just run from the scene.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I hissed at myself, deftly hopping over a small trail cut by water runoff. It’d probably cut itself into a creek in a few years’ time, but now, it was just a minor, ankle deep line in the dirt that was enough to trip someone up if the sound of brush and Ben’s soft surprise were any indication.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Willa , my inner voice repeated, as if I wasn’t paying enough attention to her.

Surprise, surprise, it didn’t make me feel any better.

I gathered my dad’s sweater closer to me. The familiar sandalwood scent of his deodorant wafted up with a soothing effect. My breathing calmed, and my skin grew warmer.

Wait, what?

Oddly enough, I didn’t think it was because of the sweater. My steps slowed as the figure in my peripheral blinked away, and a buzzing I hadn’t even noticed stopped.

The one-eighty change was so abrupt that my eyes had no time to adjust to the new lack of light. Running blindly now, I angled out of the brush, unable to navigate safely without the boost of light. I’d just cleared the boundary of the tree line and heard the crunch of gravel from the camp’s path when I slammed into a tree, or rather something that size but a lot less inanimate, since it grunted.

Off-kilter, I windmilled my arms as someone grabbed me. A gasp tore free, and the person released me, then as soon as I felt like I could run without tripping, I bolted.

Too late, I realized they’d steadied me from falling.

Ben called something, popping out of the woods and into the moonlight.

My heart stuttered at the realization that I must have run into Hunter Armstrong.

That was a thought that would surely keep me awake the rest of the night.

“Stop her,” Ben ordered, making my pulse spike.

“Hey,” Hunter called in my direction, but that was it.

I didn’t slow, and thankfully, he didn’t chase after me. I detested being chased.

Had Ben been closer or if the glowing orb hadn’t given me such a clear advantage in weaving in and out of the pitch-black forest like some stellar wood nymph, I wouldn’t have slipped away—see previous comment about star lineman. Luckily, Ben was too far away to do anything, and he must have, like Hunter, thought better about pursuing a girl alone at night. That would probably look bad on a college application.

I wasn’t sure how long I ran. Without the glowing blob, my vision remained dark, leaving me vulnerable to the things in my path as I stumbled and tripped along, desperate to reach the tent.

Only the sound of my quick breaths echoing around the quiet camp broke the stillness of the night. It was dead silent.

There weren’t any amorphous blobs around. The buzz, which had been new, was gone.

Everything was back to normal, and even the chills were gone.

I was alarmed.

Not once since I’d been having these strange diabetic attacks had an episode ever reversed itself once it already started.

From the time I was five or six, my mom coached me to recognize the signs of an oncoming attack. I’d been playing dolls with my friends in class when chills and goosebumps folded over me like an icy blanket. The next thing I remembered, I was waking up to my mom’s concerned face in the school nurse’s office.

That was the elementary incident that ultimately saw me friendless for years, and, most recently, became the catalyst in my decision to flee Ben Pierce. Whatever had happened that day had scared the other kids in my class, and eventually, I started ostracizing myself.

Armed with my mom’s advice about noticing and preventing attacks, I got a fresh start at middle school and took advantage of it. Time had fogged the memories of my classmates, and with the upheaval of starting sixth grade, I’d been able to at least have class friends—people I could count on when teachers assigned dreaded partner work. I joked around with them and messaged them, but the relationship didn’t extend beyond that.

Until one day, it did.

Some of my school friends were getting together for our first dance and talked me into tagging along, and I was glad I did. My friends and I lined the wall with the other girls, staring dreamily across no-man’s-land at the awkward and shuffling boys decorating the other wall.

Feeling heady on the joy of the transition from my school friends into friend friends, I’d done the unthinkable. I tossed my hair over my shoulder, crossed that shiny gym floor, and asked a boy to dance.

Soon, I was enjoying a shuffling preteen two-step surrounded by other last-minute pairings spurred into action by my bravery. All the while, I floated on cloud nine for starting the trend. The boy, Manny, a cute guy from my history class, had been telling me a joke about something his little brothers had done when it happened.

An attack, unlike any I’d experienced to that point, stole my breath and rendered me blind.

The timing sucked, to say the least. I couldn’t recall if I’d even said anything to my dance partner, just that I’d barely made it to the refreshment table in time to stop a full-on attack. I chugged probably half of the punch bowl and withdrew from the social scene once more.

That killed any lingering courage I had to put myself out there, especially when Manny avoided all eye contact with me in class the next day and all week after that.

He’d pretended I hadn’t existed.

Since then, I’d distanced myself from my friends once more and kept myself in check, giving my due diligence.

Everyone thought I was just very shy and incredibly awkward—which was sort of true, but that was better than psychotic and terrifying.

Now, I’d ruined it.

Hunter probably thought I was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Ben most definitely did, and worse, he’d tell the football team, where rumors would spread to the entire school in minutes.

Go me.