Page 32 of Every Thought Taken

I stifle my laugh so only she can hear. “Uh, what?”

She playfully slaps my arm, finishes her bite, and gives me a pointed stare. “I said I’m going to miss this.” She waves a hand to nothing in particular. “Being here. Hanging out.” Picking at the edge of the cookie, she tears a small piece off and sticks it in her mouth. “So much is different now.” Her eyes dart to mine. “In a good way,” she rushes to say. “But it feels like the last summer we’ll get to be like this.”

My brows pinch together. “The last summer?”

While I assemble my s’more, she nibbles at hers. I mull over her words. Look for things left unsaid. Our annual camping trip has happened without fail every year since I was three. Not that I believe we will have them forever, but why wouldn’t we be here next year? The thought alone drags me into the dark recesses of my mind.

As if she hears my inner downward spiral, she rests a hand on my forearm. That simple touch, her skin on mine, stop all the swirling mental chaos. It grants me room to breathe.

“Sorry,” she mutters. “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t—”

She holds up a hand. “Don’t lie to me, Ander. I see it on your face.”

“Fine. Whatever.” I yank my charred marshmallow from the fire, smash it between graham crackers and chocolate, and toss my skewer aside. “Why do you think this is our last summer?” Then I shove the s’more between my lips.

“Again, I’m sorry,” she says then sighs. “It’s just that next summer will be busy. I’ll have to start studying for the SAT. Maybe I’ll have a job.” She takes a small bite and barely chews before swallowing. “I don’t know why.” Glassy eyes hold mine. “Something about this summer feels like the end. Not of this place or us, but something else.”

Much as I wish our lives could remain like this, I am not foolish enough to believe things won’t change. I start my second year in middle school. Helena, Ales, and Mags start their sophomore year in a week and a half. Life has been nothing but big changes for years. Although high school gets more intense each year, she will handle them with grace.

“You got this, North.” I nudge her elbow. “And if you need someone to lean on”—I point to my shoulder—“I got you.”

“Right back at ya.”

I hate the dark cloud looming over her. The idea that this trip will be our last gnaw at my happiness. But something in her words fit. Change, especially one that involves her or us, makes my stomach flip. Change is inevitable, I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

One by one, everyone says good night and goes into their tent until only Dad and I remain. He sits in the chair beside me and we stare at the dying fire.

“Everything okay, son?”

Heart-to-heart conversations aren’t really my thing, with the exception of Helena. When Dad sparks a talk, though, I don’t ignore it. Otherwise, Mom steps in, and I’d rather not deal with her.

I shrug. “Fine. Why?”

He shuffles his booted feet in the dirt. “You seem better than usual but still unhappy.”

Great.

“There’s a long list of things that upset me, Dad.” I tip my head back and stare at the stars. “Being here isn’t one of them.”

“Do you want to talk about the other things?”

On an audible exhale, I level my gaze with the fire. “Not tonight and never here.” I turn to look at him. “I’d rather not ruin this place.”

He nods as if he gets it. “Okay.” Rising from the chair, he taps my shoulder. “Don’t stay up too late. Make sure the fire is out.” Sticks and leaves crunch as he takes a few steps then stops. “When we’re home, I think we should talk more.”

Every meager ounce of happiness inside me wilts at his words. “Sure thing, Dad,” I mumble.

Once alone, I put out the fire. Wandering to my favorite spot, I drop down to the ground, lie flat on my back, and stare up at the dark sky. Scattered stars break up the black and subtly brighten the night. And for the first time since my bleak talk with Helena, I take a deep breath.

The rustling of leaves grabs my aural attention, but I don’t move or acknowledge the sound. Seconds later, someone drops to the dirt beside me and lies down. Without looking, without a word, I know who it is. Because only she knows where to find me in the dark.

My North.

CHAPTER16

ANDERSON

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