Starry Eyes
Page 26
The one he stuck in his pants, I suppose.
“And we were going to go back together and get the other bottles, but . . .”
“But we were buzzed,” Brett says defensively to the group. “We forgot to take an empty backpack with us to carry the bottles. So we just took two and—”
“We planned to come back for the rest,” Reagan says. “We just . . . got distracted.”
This is not like Reagan. She’s not a big drinker. I’ve been to parties with her, including the party—when Brett kissed me—and she never drank. It affected her cross-country running times, and she was always training for the Olympics.
Guess things are different now.
“Were all of you out drinking?” I ask, wondering now if this could explain some of the noises last night that kept me up. I’m also irritated and hurt that I was left out. But I guess Lennon was, too.
“Don’t look at me,” Summer says. “Kendrick and I went to the sauna, and then I came back here and fell asleep.”
“Same,” Kendrick says.
“Does it matter?” Brett gripes, throwing his hands in the air. “We’re on vacation, and Reagan and I were just unwinding. It’s not like we’re criminals.”
“Technically, since you’re both underage . . . ,” Lennon says.
“And the destruction of property,” Kendrick adds, not bothering to hide his disgust. “You know, with the pissing on the tent.”
Brett sighs heavily. “Not my proudest moment, for sure. But what’s done is done.” He plops next to Reagan on the sofa and rubs his head. “This is all so stupid.”
“Oh, I’ll agree with that,” Lennon says, voice dripping with contempt. He turns to Kendrick. “What exactly did Candy say?”
“That the compound could lose its license to serve alcohol if they knowingly let this kind of thing happen and didn’t take action. She said if it had just been the janitorial crew who found the bottles stashed in the garbage, they might have let it slide. But another camper reported it—I suppose it was the family inside the yurt.”
Oh. My. God. There was a family inside the yurt when Brett . . . ?
“It could have been the other campers that complained about noise in the woods at two in the morning,” Summer adds.
Reagan groans and rubs her temples.
“So, yeah. It looks bad for the compound,” Kendrick finishes. “And we have until noon to vacate the tents, or they’re calling the police.”
“My mom is going to murder me,” Reagan says.
“Maybe Candy won’t tell her,” Summer says, putting on an encouraging face.
“Don’t you get it?” Reagan says. “My parents don’t leave for Switzerland until tomorrow. That means if I come home tonight with my tail between my legs, I’m going to have to tell them why I’m back so early.”
No one says anything. A sense of doom falls over the tent. At least I wasn’t involved, so my mom won’t be mad. But I’m honestly devastated that all of this is suddenly over. I revised my summer blueprint to accommodate this trip. I don’t want to go home and face my dad and his cheating. And what about the star party? It’s not for four more days, so I can’t just take a bus to Condor Peak this afternoon. No one will be there.
If that weren’t enough, I’m also freaking that Reagan was out with Brett last night. Isn’t it kind of weird? They aren’t saying that anything happened between them, and maybe it didn’t. I try to remind myself that they’ve always been friends—just friends. And Reagan knows how I feel about him.
So why I am filled with unease?
Maybe it’s because Lennon and I were “just friends” once too, until we started sneaking out at night together.
“So it’s over?” Summer says. “We have to leave? No horseback riding or hiking?”
“You and I could pick up my car and drive out to my family’s cabin in Napa Valley,” Kendrick tells Summer quietly. “No one’s using it right now. At least we can salvage some of this vacation.” When he sees Reagan’s head turn, he says to her in apology, “I’d invite everyone, but it’s just a one-room cabin. It’s my parents’ getaway house. There’s not even room for people to sleep on the floor, sorry.”
“You guys! We’re being stupid,” Brett says, suddenly reinvigorated. “Why should we go home? Our plan was to hike to that hidden waterfall in King’s Forest, so let’s just do that. We’ll spend the rest of the week there.”
“Our plan was to spend a couple of nights at the waterfall,” Lennon points out. “That’s a lot different from six nights. We’d need more supplies if we were staying that long. Triple the food. And there aren’t showers and flush toilets out there. Do any of you even have the most basic of things, like toilet paper? I gave you a list of stuff we’d need, and you ignored it.”
“I didn’t!” Brett insists. “I passed it along to Reagan.”
“Then why don’t any of you have bear canisters or water filters? You think there’s a sink out there? You have to filter water from the river to drink.”
“I have a water filter,” Reagan says. “I didn’t think we’d need a million of them. And I bought those campers’ freeze-dried meal packets.” She looks at me for confirmation. I have four of them in my pack. “And Brett said we could just hang our food in the trees.”
“That’s ineffective,” Lennon says.
“Dude, it’s worked for centuries,” Brett argues. “You’re being paranoid.”
“Park rules clearly say no bear canister, no backcountry camping.”
“Whatever,” Brett says. “Stop sweating the details. It will be stupid fun!”
“You’re half right about that,” Lennon says.
Brett’s forehead wrinkles. “Huh?”
“There are canisters for rent in the lodge store,” I say quickly, before Brett and Lennon get in a fight. “And more freeze-dried food.”
“Are we even allowed up there now?” Summer asks. “Are we banned from the lodge?”
Reagan pushes up from the sofa. “Screw it. They gave us until noon. Let’s load up on supplies. Brett’s right. So our plans changed. Big deal. We’ll adapt. It will be way cooler out on our own anyway.”
“So we’re doing this?” Lennon says. “You want to spend a week in the backcountry?”
“Why not?” she says. “Better than going home. If Candy tells my parents, I’m grounded anyway. Might as well have fun while I can. I say let’s go for it. Who’s with me?”
One by one, everyone agrees. Even Lennon, though I don’t think he’s happy about it.
New plan: Don’t panic. Everything will be fine. It’s the same as it was, just a few extra days at the waterfall. I can just hike back here and catch my bus to Condor Peak when it’s time to leave. Right?
Reagan looks at me. “Zorie? You’re in, right? Because I don’t need you going home early to tattle, and for all of this to get back to my mom.”
I sort of want to punch her in the boobs.
Anxious thoughts bloom. Of camping in the woods. Of Reagan and Brett spending last night drinking together. Of my conversation with Lennon this morning. All of these things are giant question marks bouncing around in my head.
“And we were going to go back together and get the other bottles, but . . .”
“But we were buzzed,” Brett says defensively to the group. “We forgot to take an empty backpack with us to carry the bottles. So we just took two and—”
“We planned to come back for the rest,” Reagan says. “We just . . . got distracted.”
This is not like Reagan. She’s not a big drinker. I’ve been to parties with her, including the party—when Brett kissed me—and she never drank. It affected her cross-country running times, and she was always training for the Olympics.
Guess things are different now.
“Were all of you out drinking?” I ask, wondering now if this could explain some of the noises last night that kept me up. I’m also irritated and hurt that I was left out. But I guess Lennon was, too.
“Don’t look at me,” Summer says. “Kendrick and I went to the sauna, and then I came back here and fell asleep.”
“Same,” Kendrick says.
“Does it matter?” Brett gripes, throwing his hands in the air. “We’re on vacation, and Reagan and I were just unwinding. It’s not like we’re criminals.”
“Technically, since you’re both underage . . . ,” Lennon says.
“And the destruction of property,” Kendrick adds, not bothering to hide his disgust. “You know, with the pissing on the tent.”
Brett sighs heavily. “Not my proudest moment, for sure. But what’s done is done.” He plops next to Reagan on the sofa and rubs his head. “This is all so stupid.”
“Oh, I’ll agree with that,” Lennon says, voice dripping with contempt. He turns to Kendrick. “What exactly did Candy say?”
“That the compound could lose its license to serve alcohol if they knowingly let this kind of thing happen and didn’t take action. She said if it had just been the janitorial crew who found the bottles stashed in the garbage, they might have let it slide. But another camper reported it—I suppose it was the family inside the yurt.”
Oh. My. God. There was a family inside the yurt when Brett . . . ?
“It could have been the other campers that complained about noise in the woods at two in the morning,” Summer adds.
Reagan groans and rubs her temples.
“So, yeah. It looks bad for the compound,” Kendrick finishes. “And we have until noon to vacate the tents, or they’re calling the police.”
“My mom is going to murder me,” Reagan says.
“Maybe Candy won’t tell her,” Summer says, putting on an encouraging face.
“Don’t you get it?” Reagan says. “My parents don’t leave for Switzerland until tomorrow. That means if I come home tonight with my tail between my legs, I’m going to have to tell them why I’m back so early.”
No one says anything. A sense of doom falls over the tent. At least I wasn’t involved, so my mom won’t be mad. But I’m honestly devastated that all of this is suddenly over. I revised my summer blueprint to accommodate this trip. I don’t want to go home and face my dad and his cheating. And what about the star party? It’s not for four more days, so I can’t just take a bus to Condor Peak this afternoon. No one will be there.
If that weren’t enough, I’m also freaking that Reagan was out with Brett last night. Isn’t it kind of weird? They aren’t saying that anything happened between them, and maybe it didn’t. I try to remind myself that they’ve always been friends—just friends. And Reagan knows how I feel about him.
So why I am filled with unease?
Maybe it’s because Lennon and I were “just friends” once too, until we started sneaking out at night together.
“So it’s over?” Summer says. “We have to leave? No horseback riding or hiking?”
“You and I could pick up my car and drive out to my family’s cabin in Napa Valley,” Kendrick tells Summer quietly. “No one’s using it right now. At least we can salvage some of this vacation.” When he sees Reagan’s head turn, he says to her in apology, “I’d invite everyone, but it’s just a one-room cabin. It’s my parents’ getaway house. There’s not even room for people to sleep on the floor, sorry.”
“You guys! We’re being stupid,” Brett says, suddenly reinvigorated. “Why should we go home? Our plan was to hike to that hidden waterfall in King’s Forest, so let’s just do that. We’ll spend the rest of the week there.”
“Our plan was to spend a couple of nights at the waterfall,” Lennon points out. “That’s a lot different from six nights. We’d need more supplies if we were staying that long. Triple the food. And there aren’t showers and flush toilets out there. Do any of you even have the most basic of things, like toilet paper? I gave you a list of stuff we’d need, and you ignored it.”
“I didn’t!” Brett insists. “I passed it along to Reagan.”
“Then why don’t any of you have bear canisters or water filters? You think there’s a sink out there? You have to filter water from the river to drink.”
“I have a water filter,” Reagan says. “I didn’t think we’d need a million of them. And I bought those campers’ freeze-dried meal packets.” She looks at me for confirmation. I have four of them in my pack. “And Brett said we could just hang our food in the trees.”
“That’s ineffective,” Lennon says.
“Dude, it’s worked for centuries,” Brett argues. “You’re being paranoid.”
“Park rules clearly say no bear canister, no backcountry camping.”
“Whatever,” Brett says. “Stop sweating the details. It will be stupid fun!”
“You’re half right about that,” Lennon says.
Brett’s forehead wrinkles. “Huh?”
“There are canisters for rent in the lodge store,” I say quickly, before Brett and Lennon get in a fight. “And more freeze-dried food.”
“Are we even allowed up there now?” Summer asks. “Are we banned from the lodge?”
Reagan pushes up from the sofa. “Screw it. They gave us until noon. Let’s load up on supplies. Brett’s right. So our plans changed. Big deal. We’ll adapt. It will be way cooler out on our own anyway.”
“So we’re doing this?” Lennon says. “You want to spend a week in the backcountry?”
“Why not?” she says. “Better than going home. If Candy tells my parents, I’m grounded anyway. Might as well have fun while I can. I say let’s go for it. Who’s with me?”
One by one, everyone agrees. Even Lennon, though I don’t think he’s happy about it.
New plan: Don’t panic. Everything will be fine. It’s the same as it was, just a few extra days at the waterfall. I can just hike back here and catch my bus to Condor Peak when it’s time to leave. Right?
Reagan looks at me. “Zorie? You’re in, right? Because I don’t need you going home early to tattle, and for all of this to get back to my mom.”
I sort of want to punch her in the boobs.
Anxious thoughts bloom. Of camping in the woods. Of Reagan and Brett spending last night drinking together. Of my conversation with Lennon this morning. All of these things are giant question marks bouncing around in my head.
