Page 124 of Nerdplay
“Not a single one.” I make a show of crossing my heart.
“Hope to die?” she asks.
“For the sake of the idiom, yes. If I’d intended to use it against you, I would’ve left the day I discovered the lien. I stayed because of you.”
“Then why were you hiding the document from me? Why not show me?”
“Because I didn’t want anyone to know, including you.”
“Why? Do you think I’m too stupid to understand the consequences of my dad’s actions?”
“Because I didn’t want you to worry. I can see the pressure you’re under here, trying to keep this camp afloat and the community glued together without losing your own home in the process. You ease other people’s burdens.” I pause, realizing the truth of my next statement. “I wanted to be the hero who eases yours.”
She cocks her head and studies my face. “You have no idea how much I want to believe you.”
I grip her shoulder. “Then do it. Don’t let Patrick or your father or anybody else convince you that you will always be betrayed by men. That isn’t who I am, Cricket. I promise.”
“Like you said, Charlie, maybe I don’t really know you at all.” Storm clouds gather across her face. “I think it’s best if you leave now. I’ll send you a partial refund for the remaining days.”
All the air leaves my lungs. I am absolutely, unequivocally crushed. And yet I know I deserve this. Like she said, if I were firmly on her side, then I should’ve taken the document to her the moment I found it, instead of trying to handle it behind her back. Cricket doesn’t need protection.
As though reading my mind, she adds, “And for the record, I don’t need a hero. Women like me rescue themselves.”
With those parting words, she swivels on her heel and marches toward her office. It isn’t lost on me that she doesn’t ask me to return the document. She’s literally leaving the final decision in my hands.
As much as it pains me, I drag myself to my cabin to pack my things.
Chapter Nineteen
I use most of the remaining days I’m meant to be at camp and hole up in my house, trying to find a solution to this Matt-shaped problem. I binge Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and Wonder Woman (only the first one), and the entire MCU franchise, from Iron Man to Endgame. I get teary-eyed when Gandalf falls to the Balrog in the first movie and cheer in the second one when he turns up at Helm’s Deep to save the day as promised. I would gladly take sitting beside Cricket in the dark for the next six hours even if it means my eyes glaze over during the battle scenes. I know I’m a guy, and I’m supposed to feel some sort of testosterone-fueled excitement about men killing and maiming each other, but I don’t.
Gandalf is the coolest though. I can see why people like him. Samwise Gamgee is stronger than all of them, though, because he has to watch in real time as his best friend succumbs to a curse that will eventually kill him. I wish there were more people like him in the world.
Unsurprisingly, I haven’t slept well. I toss and turn, and when I fall asleep, I dream of floating lanterns and Cricket with golden hair that glows. I am, of course, the villain in every story I conjure. No matter which way I spin it, the end result is that I let her down.
I’ve managed to put off a meeting with Riggieri, but only because he’s in Texas this week on a business trip and is laser focused on whatever’s happening at that particular negotiating table. Thank the gods for small favors.
When I finally return to the office, the building feels stuffy, and my suit feels too thick. I miss the outdoors. I miss lakeside picnics and swapping stories with people who seem genuinely invested in the outcome.
Mostly I miss Cricket.
Jeannie can tell I’m off from the moment she sees me. She looks at me with that face of maternal concern, and it’s a painful reminder of the kind of mother I would’ve liked to have had.
I’ve also managed to avoid the mother I do have. She and my father have been hounding me to make sure I’ll be attending their anniversary party with important news to share. I reassure them via text that I’ll be there, but I don’t mention any news—good or bad.
I go through the motions of returning phone calls and logging time. My suit is a shell and I’m empty inside it. A hollow man, not to be confused with a Hollow Knight, a video game at which Stefan proved to be remarkably good.
The campers will go home today. Another year in the books. Another group chat filled with in-jokes and core memories. I feel a pang of loss for what could’ve been if only I hadn’t been—me.
Matt’s face is the last one I want to see, but I welcome him into my office and ask him to close the door behind him. Jeannie knows to hold my calls and leave us undisturbed. This will be the most important negotiation of my career, and I can’t afford to screw it up. There’s too much at stake.
“I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule,” I tell him.
Matt scoffs. “We’re old friends, Chuck. Let’s not insult each other by bullshitting. I take it you had Jennifer summon me here because you want to know whether I shared the information about the lien with anybody.”
“For starters, her name is Jeannie, and yes.”
He shoots a Nerf ball, and it swishes into the basket. “Not yet.”
