The Torment of Renegade X
Page 7
“You mean like when they were all making anti-lightning signs and Eric kept stealing our markers?”
“No. I mean, kind of? I know how it sounds, and it wasn’t fun at the time or anything, but now that it’s over… I don’t know. I’m glad we did it. That we both came here and that we stuck it out.”
“When they X-ray your leg, make sure they also give you a head scan, because you must be losing it if you think that.”
“I’m just saying that maybe camp not sucking and having good memories about it aren’t mutually exclusive. Like maybe, despite everything that happened—or maybe even because of everything that happened—I’ll still look back on it as something good.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to need longer for my rose-colored glasses to kick in.” If they ever do.
He sighs. “The whole point of the trip was to bond with your friends, and that’s what I did.”
“That’s friends, plural. And we were supposed to make new ones.”
“Whatever. I was just trying to say that maybe it wasn’t a total loss.”
We’re both quiet for a second. And then, because I have to ask, I say, “So, are you still upset that you didn’t make it to your parents’ tree?”
“A little, I guess, but it’s okay.” He says that wistfully, like it’s not really that okay. “And Zach will be here next year. Hopefully without a broken leg. Maybe he can find it and get a picture for me.”
I get out my phone and bring up the most recent picture taken. Then I hand it to Riley.
He stares at it. Then, quietly, he says, “It’s the tree.”
“That’s why I was almost late. Because no matter what you said about only wanting to see it in person, I figured you’d regret not getting a picture of it.”
Riley zooms in on his parents’ initials. There’s a heart carved in the bark with MP + WF inside it. Riley studies it, then glances off in the direction of the tree, as if he’s thinking about actually going there, even though that would be pretty much impossible at this point.
“I’ll send it to you once we have service,” I tell him when he hands me my phone back.
“Thanks, X.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But what if you’d missed the bus? You couldn’t have gone earlier?”
“Uh, no, because I was busy packing and trying to clean up our cabin. I don’t know if you noticed, but the rest of our cabin mates all got sent home last night, and that just left us, and you have a broken leg. So that pretty much just left me to do all the stupid cleaning.” And while normally I wouldn’t care about making sure a place I didn’t even want to go to was spotless, I wanted to show that we didn’t need our cabin mates and that our cabin was obviously better without them. Plus, we weren’t allowed to leave until we passed inspection, and I wasn’t going to stay here even one minute longer than I had to. “So, no, I couldn’t have gone earlier. But I didn’t want to leave without getting that picture for you. And before you say it, I know you told me not to, and I know it’s not the same thing as getting to go see it in person, but—”
“No, X, it’s… Thanks.”
I shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Yeah, it was. It is to me. And you could have missed the bus and gotten stuck here.”
“But I didn’t. And maybe if you’d already told me all that crap about looking back fondly at all the horrible stuff that happened here, I wouldn’t have bothered, since you have so many good memories and everything.”
“That’s not what I said. And I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay, Perkins. I know what you meant. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you were here, too, and that we both stuck it out.” I say that right as the buses pull up, and I feel a wave of relief that this week is finally over. “And maybe someday I’ll look back and forget how much this place sucked and only remember the good stuff. But for now, let’s just get the hell out of here.”
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Thank you so much for reading! You are AWESOME! (Obviously.) If you enjoyed this book, it would be super helpful to me if you could leave a review. Reviews have a big impact on the life of a book (and a series) and allow me to keep writing stories you love!
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHELSEA M. CAMPBELL grew up in the Pacific Northwest, where it rains a lot. And then rains some more. She finished her first novel when she was twelve, sent it out, and promptly got rejected. Since then, she’s earned a degree in Latin and Ancient Greek, become an obsessive knitter and fiber artist, and started a collection of glass grapes.
Besides writing, studying ancient languages, and collecting useless objects, Chelsea is a pop-culture fangirl at heart and can often be found rewatching episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Parks and Recreation, or dying a lot in Dark Souls. You can visit her online and sign up for her newsletter to get a free copy of Damien Locke’s Guide to Golden City at www.chelseamcampbell.com.