“Don’t worry, Charlie,” says Brandon, noticing the escape attempt immediately with a hawkish eye. “We know you’ve got your girlfriend back home. You can sit this out.”

I open my mouth to lie about having a girlfriend at home so that I can also be freed from participation, but then I realize that it wouldn’t do any good. I can’t exactly convince everyone I’m romantically attached to someone if I haven’t mentioned her at all for the past eight weeks.

With a sigh of resignation, I allow Brandon to drag me to the center of the room, where everyone arranges themselves on the floor in a circle. Everyone is smiling and giggling like fools. Personally, I feel like I might be sick.

Which is stupid. I’ve kissed girls before. The first time in seventh grade, on a dare. Then again, on a few occasions, when I dated Ashleigh Adwell for three months last year. It’s not a big deal. I like doing it, if I’m being honest. Iama teenage boy, after all, no matter how often Dr. Sans expresses concerns that I act and think and speak too maturely for my age. As if that’s really something to be concerned about. Isn’t it a good thing to be mature?

I’m sat between Brandon and Zack, desperately wishing that I could crumble into dust and disappear between the worn floorboards.

Unfortunately, it seems like I’m going to have to endure this game for at least the next hour or so. With any luck, my turn will have the bottle landing on one of the quieter girls like Lana or Ellie. A quick peck and it can be over with. Then I can lie about being too tired to stay any longer and head back to my bunkbed. I’m sure my absence will be easily forgotten.

Katrina is the first to spin. For a horrifying moment, it looks like it might land on me, but the mouth of the bottle stills on Brandon.

“Let’s go, Trina!” Lucy cheers with a laugh.

“I don’t want to do it in front of everyone!” she protests.

Brandon, with admittedly impressive smoothness, replies, “We can go into the closet.”

Katrina gapes at him. “Excuse me?”

“There’s a storage closet in the back corner,” Jake supplies.

“But that’s more like seven minutes in heaven than spin the bottle,” someone else protests.

“It can be a hybrid game,” Brandon answers. “If the girls want privacy, we should be gentlemen about it.”

I almost snort.How chivalrous.

In the end, Katrina and Brandon disappear into the closet, which is probably home to a rat nest or two. Or maybe enough teens come sneaking through Cabin B during the summers that the rats haven’t been brave enough to make a home here.

It doesn’t take them long to get it over with. I sit with growing anxiety as the game moves around the circle, tensing up whenever the bottle inches in my direction. Luckily, it never lands on me.

Until the unavoidable happens.

“Your turn, superstar,” Jake taunts me.

I roll my eyes and lean forward. I spin the glass bottle, stomach churning. I really hope nobody has noticed that myhand is shaking. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as the bottle spins, spins, spins.

I don’t want to do this. Ireallydon’t want to do this. I’d give just about anything to be able to run out of this room without drawing even more attention to myself.

Just when I’m pretty sure I’m actually going to vomit, the bottle comes to a lazy halt.

And it’s pointing directly at Lucy.

Everyone erupts in laughter and good-natured jeers.

“Mortal enemies! Ha!” shouts Zack.

“They’ll probably bite each other’s heads off instead,” giggles Lana.

Brandon simply laughs and smacks me on the back, causing me to jolt forward and nearly lose my balance.

I meet Lucy’s eye across the circle. Her lips are pursed. She doesn’t look thrilled by this turn of events at all.

Likewise, princess.

“Come on, superstar!”