Page 42 of My Star-Crossed Summer

When I don’t answer, she says, “Don’t push her away, Noah. You have to break that habit.”

“I don’t push people away,” I grumble.

“I love you, but it doesn’t take a pro to see that you keep everyone at arm’s length. You surround yourself with people who will only be around for a short while—like these kids at camp. I know they adore you, but you need deeper connections with people who can love you the way you deserve and have your back when you need it.”

“I do have friends, you know.” Kind of. Does trivia night with my fellow counselors count?

“You have co-workers and acquaintances,” she argues, “and maybe one person who has a spare key to your house.” She sighs, and her voice softens. “She’s not Dad.”

The words hit hard. I pace a little farther from the tree, halfway hoping to lose the phone signal. But I can still hear Hannah’s voice clear as a bell. She’s right, of course. She’s always right.

“It’s safe to let people get close to you,” she says. “Not everyone will leave. But when they do, it’s because of them. Not you.”

“This is not why I called you,” I tell her, feeling like my baby sister has surgically removed my heart and is now studying all ofits nooks and crannies for answers. She’s all about studying data, but I’d prefer she wasn’t scrutinizing mine.

“Some people will leave you,” she says. “Some is notall.”

“Have you seen him lately?” I ask her, desperate to shift her focus.

“We were supposed to have lunch last weekend, but as usual, he didn’t show. Texted me the next day and said something came up.” She sighs. “I just expect that will always be the case, and on the rare occasion that he does keep his word, I just consider that a pleasant surprise. Like winning a couple of bucks on a lottery ticket.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. She puts up a tough facade, but I know how much it still hurts to get ditched by our father because someone more interesting came along. Whether it’s his co-worker’s party or the new woman he’s dating, it never gets any easier.

“Don’t be,” she says. “I keep leaving the door open for him. My decision, all the way. A small piece of me keeps hoping he might change, but he never does.” She lets out another weary sigh. “But think about what I said, all right? Not everyone is as careless with our feelings as Dad.”

“I know.” And logically, I do know that every person on the planet can’t be like him. But for all these years, I’ve felt like the only people I could depend on were Hannah and my mom.

And Victoria—until she pushed me away.

“I need to go,” I tell her, feeling that knot forming in my chest again. “We have a planning meeting before lunch.”

“Not everyone gets a second chance, Noah. And besides, what do you have to lose?”

“Okay, I love you. Talk to you later,” I say, the words rushing out. “Bye.”

She says something else that sounds like “This isn’t over,” as I end the call. My chest is filled with butterflies, and my head’sbuzzing with a hundred different thoughts. But one question Hannah asked that struck me hardest is the one with the most terrifying answer.

What do you have to lose?

Nothing, I think.Or maybe everything.

Chapter Thirteen

VICTORIA

At least we have showers,” Sophie says. “This is way better than some of the other campgrounds we’ve used.”

The campground that Noah reserved for us is in a state park just a fifteen-minute drive from the institute. Surrounded by dense woods, it feels secluded even though it’s just a mile off the main highway. The kids are already paired off and choosing the spots where they want to pitch their tents before we head out on this afternoon’s short hike. So far, this exercise feels like a logic problem from grade school: if your group has eighteen kids, three adults, and twelve campsites, how long will it take to set up a tent before a hungry bear comes looking for a snack?

Noah keeps telling me that black bears won’t eat me, but I still have my doubts. They have pointy teeth, after all, and those aren’t made for scarfing down blueberries.

According to Sophie, this outing is one of the kids’ most anticipated traditions. The institute provides tents and camping supplies, and the kids bring their own sleeping bags. Our plan is simple: first, we set up camp, then we go on a short hike through the afternoon. Then it’s dinner and a little free time, and at dusk, the instructors will meet us to do an evening stargazingprogram. Tomorrow, we break down camp, do a half-day canoe trip, and then get back to the institute before dinner time. Sophie makes it all sound so easy—if I follow her lead, I’ll be fine.

Probably.

Noah’s making the rounds with his campground map and a clipboard as the kids choose their sites. He’s already marked off three sites on the perimeter for the adults—Noah, Sophie, and I will each have a tent to ourselves and will be positioned in a triangle around the kids so we can monitor them. Everything with Noah feels like a tactical formation.

When everyone has chosen, Noah and Sophie demonstrate how to set up a tent. A few of the kids have done this before, but those who haven’t are watching with rapt attention, like they’re going to be tested on this later. I’ve never set up a tent in my life since my idea of camping is staying in a two-star motel with no complimentary breakfast.

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