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son. It s a little cliché, but
Dude, shut up. I lowered the brim of my baseball cap and mentally tried to block him out.
Above on the platform, Austin finally released Ariel, who was grinning. She waved down at me, and I
waved back.
Austin gave me a little nod but didn t smile. Which was fine, because I was a bit confused at the
moment. The drugs. The pain. Rumors spread by a freaked-out girl? And now this rescue mission on the
wall? There was more to Austin Bridges than met the eye.
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SEVEN
hat night, sparks from Camp Crescent s bonfire flew up toward the dark sky like shooting stars in
T
reverse. Conversations buzzed around the circle of log benches as the cliques of the camp formed. A
cluster of Goth kids, minus black eyeliner, sat gloomily inspecting each other s empty piercing holes. A
few of the chubbier campers debated the best s more-making techniques. Some of the wilder boys were
arm wrestling, their elbows anchored across the bench as they struggled.
All around the circle, the smell of burning sugar rose up from the marshmallows toasting in the fire.
Ariel pulled at a sticky golden puff on the end of her stick, roasting the outside of the marshmallow,
pulling it off and eating it, then roasting the new outsides. Marshmallows are okay, but I was seriously
jonesing for some good old-fashioned gummy worms, which I was pretty sure Cynthia Crumb had
devoured along with my romance novel.
I glanced over at Austin, sitting three logs away. His eyes reflected the gold colors of the bonfire,
and the light of the flames flickered against his strong face. He was staring at me. I felt weird not bad,
not good, just weird. I squirmed on the log, trying to get comfortable.
Why is Austin staring? Do I have a zit or something? asked Ariel, retreating beneath her bangs.
No, no. It s not you. It s me.
It s never me, said Ariel with a sigh. She stuffed her hands into the kangaroo pocket of her navy
hoodie. Well, unless you count that guy I met at archery today. Price. Price Fenton. He s from Georgia.
I think he s a little odd.
All the guys here are a little odd, I said.
Oh, great, said Ariel as her marshmallow went up in flames. Could you& oh, forget it. She
suddenly threw her roasting stick down and scooched closer to me on the log bench.
What s the deal?
Ariel nodded across the campfire to where Charles was cruising for a seat. He s so not sitting
here.
He s just another name-dropper, I said. Don t give it another thought. My school s crawling
with kids like him.
I keep forgetting you re new, Shelby. It s way worse here, Ariel said. People can be really
cruel. Use stuff you say in group against you. Things like that.
We watched Charles take a seat on a log bench near the Goth kids.
There. Safe. I picked up Ariel s roasting stick and handed it to her.
Is this seat taken? a short guy with a Southern accent asked Ariel.
Even in the firelight, I could see her cheeks pink up.
Uh, no. Go ahead, Price, she said, giving me a look.
He plunked down and the two of them started talking. It was seriously cute. I could tell Ariel liked
him because the blush in her cheeks never went away. She was totally absorbed in some story about
Price s cat. I felt like a third wheel.
And then I saw Cynthia walk up with her guitar case. Great. What I really wanted, more than
anything, was some peace and quiet. Back home, I spent a lot of time alone. On most weeknights,
Priscilla would be off working out or shopping with her friends, and Dad had a lot of late meetings. That
meant I had the whole house to myself. A quiet house, a good book, and a bag of gummy worms were
sometimes all the comfort I needed. I wasn t used to the noise of living with other people or the incessant
rounds of crappy camp tunes.
I knew it wasn t playing by the rules, but I felt like I had to be alone for a little while. I turned to
Ariel. Hey, if anyone asks, I went off to the bathroom. Do you mind covering for me?
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