16

Slips of paper drawn from Jerry’s baseball cap determined the tent pairings: evens with evens, odds with odds. Amelia and Celeste, being the only girls on the trip, did not participate. Santi chose first, sliding his hand into the hat and shifting the papers around a bit before his fingertips finally decided. He peeked at the paper: 3.

Rico was next, followed by Victor, who had spent most of the short time they’d been together talking about how great he was at building fires and orienteering and being an outdoorsman. Jerry picked the last number and put his hat back on.

“You’re lucky,” Victor said when Santi showed him the number on his scrap. “I’m an Eagle Scout.”

With the pairings out of the way, the six of them sat on the ground outside the Bear Canyon trailer and divided up the food and communal gear.

“Your pack’s going to be way too heavy,” Jerry said when Santi kept volunteering. “It shouldn’t be more than a third of your body weight.”

Santi gave him a smile as he tucked a block of cheese next to the bagels. “I can handle it.”

Jerry shrugged and went back inside the office for the keys to the Bear Canyon van. When the front door closed, Celeste turned to Santi and said, “Just because this trip is co-ed, don’t assume I’m going to get with you.”

“What?”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking about it.” Santi hesitated, and she poked her finger at him with a triumphant look on her face. “Aha!”

“It’s not like that,” he said.

She wrinkled her brows at him. “Oh, so you think I’m ugly?”

“No. What? No.”

“Make up your mind. Jesus.” Celeste looked over her shoulder and leaned in with a whisper. “I brought some mushrooms for later. Tripping in the woods is next-level. You in?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Maybe I am,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe I’m not. Maybe you’ll find out.”

“Maybe,” Santi said.

Victor grunted and stood up. After hefting his pack onto his shoulder, he walked around to the other side of the trailer.

Santi pushed his feet into the hiking boots Jerry had given him. The treads were almost completely worn, and the fit was a little loose, especially in the toes, but they were better than nothing. He pulled his socks a little higher and tightened the laces.

Rico went inside to take a leak. Celeste twirled her hair and stared off into nothing. Amelia was looking at Celeste.

Amelia finally cleared her throat and said, all cautious, “Where’s the name Celeste from?”

Celeste turned, and her eyes narrowed. No more hair twirling. Her hands fell to her sides. “Where’s the name Amelia from?”

“Family name. But my friends call me Miels,” she said with a smile that obviously took some effort.

“I’m not your friend,” Celeste said.

“I—No, I just thought that we mi—”

“And I’m not going to be your friend.”

Santi pretended to rearrange the things in his pack but he kept his full attention on the girls. It was like watching one of those nature shows on TV where the alligator explodes out of the water and snatches an unsuspecting bird right out of the air.

“I’m not trying to be your friend, Celeste.”

“Well.” The girl fixed Amelia with a sarcastic smile. “This must be my lucky day.”

Amelia was flustered. She swallowed and looked to Santi for help, but he quickly turned back to his pack. “I meant I’m not trying to be anything.”

Santi let the awkwardness linger until he couldn’t take it anymore, and then he stood up and announced, “I’m going to take these bad boys for a spin.”

He made a big show of stepping from one foot to the other as he walked away from the girls and around to the back of the trailer. Victor had his back to Santi, but Santi noticed him tuck something quickly into the top compartment of his pack.

“It’s cool,” Santi said. “I’m not going to tell.”

Victor didn’t look up. Instead, he feigned like he was checking the straps around the climbing rope on one side. “What are you talking about?”

“I won’t say anything, you bringing booze or a piece or whatever. If that’s what you’re worried about. I’m pretty good at keeping secrets, as it turns out.”

Victor turned around. “You think I brought booze?”

“Or whatever.”

“What’s in my pack is my business. Got it?”

“Your business,” Santi said. He didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot, but this guy wasn’t making it easy.

“And anyway, booze is too heavy. If I wanted to medicate, I’d have borrowed some of my mom’s Vicodin instead.”

“What’s the rope for?”

“Be prepared.”

“And yet you didn’t bring any booze,” Santi smirked.

“Are we going to have beef?” Victor said. He hoisted his backpack onto one shoulder and stalked toward the other side of the trailer.

Santi laughed out loud even though he figured he might regret it later. “Have beef?” he called out after Victor. “Who talks like that?”