Page 18 of Puck Your Friend
We sprint the last stretch, slipping on mud that cakes the soles of our shoes when the land changes from dirt to grass. A few other campers are already there. If I hadn’t slowed us down, the guys could’ve taken first with how they were booking it. It’s my fault we’re not the first ones out. But we’re still early enough to claim first-round signups.
One of the counselors with a stopwatch gives us high fives. “You did that in thirty minutes. Good time. I just need to note your numbers and then you can go to the tent over there for water, towels, snacks. Or if you want to grab your bags, they’re in there as well and you can head to the showers before they fill up. Unless your cabin has shower.”
He points to a half tent. “Signups will open once everyone is done. You’ll be at the front of the line, keep your numbers for now even if you change.”
We nod and pause long enough for him to get our entry numbers before we head to a spot to collapse. All of that can wait.
Jace drops to his back in the grass. “I definitely have mud in places where mud should never be.”
Wes stays standing but bends at the waist, hands braced on his thighs. “Totally worth it. That was fun.”
Logan shakes out his long blond hair, spraying me with flecks of mud. I send him a glare. “Hey, Labrador, stop getting me even more dirty.”
He laughs and grins at me. “No.” He shakes his head harder.
I roll my eyes. “Sorry, I was mistaken. You’re not a dog, you’re an ASS.”
Ford flops down beside Jace. “You kicked ass, Frankie.”
I lay down between them, putting my head on Ford’s shoulder and my legs over Jace’s. “We all did.”
I’ve never been shy about laying on them in some fashion, but it feels different now than it did when we were younger. I’m more aware of our skin touching and the warmth coming off of them.
It makes me swallow hard. There’s the feeling again, like the one I had with Jace on the wall. There are flutters in my stomach that weren’t there before.
What is this feeling?
Jace squints toward the sky. “Think the Mess Hall would let us raid the fridge? I want something more than snacks. After all that, I need carbs.”
Wes drops next to Jace’s other side. “I hope not. I need something better than spaghetti surprise.”
My thoughts go back to the bracelets in my footlocker. “You guys free after lights out and bunk count?”
Logan glances over as he takes a seat at our feet. “What’s up?”
I keep my tone easy, even though nerves are trying to get the better of me. “Thought we could hit the clearing. Watch the sunset.”
Ford hums. “That sounds nice. Maybe we could do a little stargazing, too. It’s been a while since I could see the stars likethey are out here. I don’t see why we wouldn’t be able to make it.”
I shift my head on his shoulder. “Then we’ll meet around eight.” I hope they don’t think the bracelets are corny.
Crickets chirping fill our spot, along with the low croak of frogs, as they come out for the night. A squirrel scrambles up the trunk behind me. I sit with my back to our oak tree, the pouch in my lap. My thumbs brush the cloth edges while I wait.
Jace and Wes enter first, tossing a pinecone between them. Wes lets it drop when he sees me. Jace grins and jogs ahead.
Ford follows close behind with his hoodie looped over one shoulder. Logan’s last, a sunflower seed pack crinkling as he slaps it against his palm.
They come to sit around me, facing the tree and lake.
Ford tilts his head to the side. “What’s that in your lap?”
I shift onto my knees and lay out the cloth in front of me. There’s still just enough light to see them. I spread all four bracelets in a row.
Each bracelet has the same black bead base and design. The accent colors are different, though. Jace has gold and bronze. Ford’s is metallic green and brown. Logan’s a steel-blue with silver. Wes’s has pearlescent white and a crimson red.
A tree of life stands in the center, each tree matches their accent color. Darker shades make up the chevrons. A single row of diamond points arcs at either end in the same color as the tree.
The tree of life charm hangs from the magnetic clasps for each.
