“I DIDN’T ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING WRONG,” Lucas tells Dawn as he helps her retrieve her tarp from the tangle of bushes where it’s been blown by the wind. “My dad signed me up for this because he thought it would be good practice for the army.”

Dawn stares at him, squinting in the glare of his flashlight. “Wait, what? You don’t, like, have to be here?”

“Oh, I have to be here,” Lucas says, laughing. “You never met my dad. He didn’t exactly give me a choice.”

“Yeah, but.” Dawn looks back toward the ring of tents, barely visible in the flickering firelight. “You’re not here because you’re bad, or whatever. You’re not, like, a criminal.”

Lucas laughs again. “Are you?”

Dawn hesitates. She’s not technically a criminal; at least, she’s never been arrested. But she’s not really a LAW-ABIDING CITIZEN, either. She doesn’t want to make any confessions to Lucas, not now that she’s heard his story.

Lucas reads her nonanswer for the answer it really is, though. “You don’t have to be ashamed or anything,” he tells Dawn. “We’re freaking teenagers. Nobody’s perfect.”

It sounds funny, coming out of Lucas’s mouth. He’s kind of got a golden-boy thing going on, always friendly and helpful and usually pretty happy, like a Labrador retriever or something, with his tousled blond hair and blue eyes and easy smile. He might not be perfect, but he’s a lot more perfect than Dawn, anyway. She wonders what Lucas would think if she told him she was sleeping with a thirty-something drug dealer. Wonders if he’d still look at her the same.

She shakes her head clear. Reaches for the tarp, pulls it out of the bushes. “Help me with this,” she tells Lucas. “Before Amber and the ghoul come back and see us.”

They get the tarp repositioned and mostly pinned down, and then Lucas reaches into his pocket and pulls out something metallic that jingles.

“Tent pegs,” he says, grinning, shining his light down so Dawn can see. “Mine came with eight, but I really only need four. You might find they work better than those rocks you’ve been using.”

Dawn looks at them. Four brand-new pegs; they’ll fit perfectly in the little holes in each corner of her tarp. “Won’t the counselors be mad?” she asks.

Lucas shrugs. “Probably,” he says. “Just hide them under those rocks and make sure you take them out in the morning before Amber comes around to check on you. You’ll probably get your tent in a few days anyway.”

“I hope so,” Dawn says. “It’s supposed to start raining soon, right?”

“Inevitably.” Lucas holds out the pegs. “So don’t get caught.”

A gust of wind takes hold of Dawn’s tarp again, pulls it out from under the rocks and sends one end flapping wildly in the breeze.

“Shit.” Dawn jumps up, grabs the tarp, and pulls it back down again. Realizes the stupid rocks aren’t ever going to work.

Lucas helps her tamp the tarp down. Holds out the pegs again, smiling that golden-boy smile of his.

“Thanks,” Dawn tells him, and when she takes the pegs from his hands, she can feel the warmth of his body, and it lingers on her skin longer than she’d care to admit.