Alice shook her head vigorously. “It’s not. I got married too young, mostly to get away from my parents, but now…” She took a breath to steady her voice. “I know who I am.”
Bree and Enid grinned in unison, like proud mothers. “You sure you don’t want me to beat some sense into her?” Bree asked.
Alice shook her head, then very gingerly crawled to her bunk’s metal ladder. She lowered her feet to rest on the second rung before turning around to tackle the treacherous descent. “No. I’m going to talk to Jamal, which should give Lila time to reflect while I brainstorm a grand gesture of some sort.” She lowered her foot onto the next rung down. “I’ll also try not to let this experience ruin the rest of my time here.”
“Good plan,” Enid said.
“Beautiful plan,” Bree agreed, close to Alice’s back. “But before all that: want some help getting down from there?”
Alice stilled the foot she’d been sweeping through the air in a fruitless search for the next rung. “If you insist.”
Strong hands gripped her around the waist, carefully lifting and then placing her onto the ground. Momentarily shaken by the intimate contact with someone she barely knew, Alice managed to calm her disquiet with a single, steadying breath. She smiled at Bree, face hot. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Bree surprised her by pulling her into a warm, lengthy hug. “Don’t hesitate to come find us if you need us, okay? We’ve got your back.”
Alice relaxed into the embrace. When Enid joined in seconds later, rather than feel suffocated, Alice breathed easier than she had since leaving Rosa in the woods.
The theory she’d held since childhood seemed to bear out. Friendship really did make life better.
*
Jamal lit up with palpable excitement when Alice entered the arts-and-crafts building. The crowd was sparse compared to the afternoon before, presumably because field day was still in full swing. Relieved to see the counselor unencumbered by other campers, Alice approached his worktable with a rapidly beating heart. She assumed it would take many years of practice to master her physiological reactions while engaged in this type of social interaction, but realistically, it couldn’t happen too soon. Battling her unrelenting paranoia about sounding foolish was difficult enough. Having to simultaneously deal with flop sweat, red cheeks, and shaking hands made moments like this particularly excruciating.
“Alice!” Jamal stood and offered her his hand. “I was really hoping you’d come by.” His warm brown eyes twinkled as she gave him her firmest, most confident handshake. “Taking a break from stealing boats?”
Fiery humiliation burned through Alice, scorching everything in its wake, but rather than surrender to her instinctive shame, she challenged the thought distortion that made his comment seem cruel, even mocking. Jamal wore a friendly grin, which now wavered at her obvious embarrassment, and he’d never been anything but perfectly nice to her. He’s teasing you. Tease back. “Yes, for the moment.”
It wasn’t the wittiest rejoinder in the history of verbal repartee, but it was something.
Jamal chuckled, then pointed at a cardboard box full of random, interesting bits and pieces that he’d partially unpacked onto the table. “Okay, so you got me really pumped yesterday. I ended up driving an hour to an electronics store last night…” He paused to pull a self-deprecating face. “I know, I know. But I thought maybe if you were into it, you could show me how to build a super-simple robot. Any kind at all.” He put his hands on the box and shook it lightly. “The salesman told me I had everything I would need…”
Alice peered into the box, relieved to have a technical challenge on which to focus her energies. She let her gaze dart over the contents, along with the items already on the table, as she tallied a mental inventory. There were different-sized motors, batteries and battery holders, LEDs of various colors, resistors, timers, receivers, capacitors, circuits, and on and on…truly a dizzying assortment of electronic odds and ends. “And then some. How much money did you spend?”
Jamal flashed her a toothy grin. “Marcia loved the idea. She’s looking for ways to attract campers who are interested in activities other than drinking. She approved a pilot program on the spot, seed money included.”
“Nice.” Alice further unpacked the box, sorting parts into piles arranged by category. “Well, without a computer to program a micro-controller, our options are somewhat limited. However, we could build a simple obstacle-avoiding robot with what you’ve got here.”
“Yeah?” Jamal slapped his hands on the tabletop, so obviously pumped that Alice couldn’t help but be swept along by his enthusiasm. “Let’s do it!”
“All right.” Alice pulled out a chair and sat, picking and choosing the components they would need. “Grab some paper if you want to take notes.”
“Good call.” He jogged to another table and returned with a notebook and pen. Dropping into the chair beside her, he watched quietly as she continued to sort parts, then said, “You really should come back and teach a beginner robotics course with me at some point. I’m sure Marcia would waive your registration fee.”
Alice snorted. “That’s if I’m not expelled for general mischief first.”
Jamal laughed, kindly. “Tell me the truth. Borrowing the boat: your idea or Lila’s?” When she looked up, sheepishly, he raised an eyebrow. “Really. Didn’t expect that.”
“That makes two of us.”
“So where is your partner in crime?” Jamal glanced around as though he might spot her lurking on the periphery. Alice couldn’t help but scan the room with him. “I hope I’m not keeping you from her.”
“Not at all.” Alice attempted to sound casual. “Maybe we’ll hook up later, but right now I’m all about building this robot with you. Once I locate a few more bits, we’ll start going over the basics.”
“Excellent.” Jamal propped his chin on his hand, watchful, before brightening as a thought visibly occurred to him. “You know what? You should give the robot we make today to Lila. Sort of an apology for stealing you away like this.” He tentatively bumped her shoulder with his, a gesture of camaraderie that still felt thrillingly novel. “Marcia’s treat.”
She wasn’t certain whether building Rosa a simplistic robot fit the definition of a grand gesture, but given what she knew of the woman who’d managed to make her begin to fall in love after less than two days, such a gift might be epically romantic enough to make her reconsider letting Alice go. Even if this token wouldn’t change anything at all, the memory of Rosa’s joy at her silly siege engines allowed Alice to accept Jamal’s generous offer without hesitation. “Thanks. She’ll like that.”
“Well, she’s lucky to have you. You’re pretty cool.”
Unaccustomed to thinking so kindly of herself, Alice couldn’t help but nonetheless silently agree with Jamal’s assessment—the first part, at least. Rosa would be lucky to have her. She had her flaws, absolutely, and she’d never thrive on being the center of attention or choose to actively pursue a busy social life, but given the opportunity, she would love Rosa like the woman had never been loved before. Indeed, if they somehow managed to successfully transition their connection to the real world, they would both be lucky, because both their lives would improve. They were good for each other, complications be damned. Alice knew that had to be true, because the alternative was too painful to accept.
Now all she had to do was make Rosa believe it, too.
Chapter Fifteen
Rosa yearned for a charged cell phone so she could call her best friend Trayvon and yell at him for sending her the link to Camp Rewind’s website all those months ago. As stressful as her life had been then, at least she’d finally reached a place where she wasn’t always in agony the way she was today. Somehow, the pain of breaking up with Alice—a woman she’d known only two days—felt somehow worse than anything else she could remember experiencing over the past year and a half. This weekend was to have been her chance to recapture the frivolity of a time before sh
e’d published that article, back when she’d had fun and slept around and naively believed that the universe naturally bent in favor of her safety and happiness. Instead, camp had turned into yet another nightmare reminder of how one simple post on the Internet could ruin a person’s whole life in every way possible.
She didn’t want to break Alice’s heart—but nor did she want her own to break. She also didn’t want Alice to get mixed up with her detractors or bear witness to the shame Rosa was forced to endure on an almost daily basis. No matter how quickly Alice had won her trust, that seemed like too personal a violation to share with anyone. Too embarrassing. Even if she’d felt comfortable enough to disclose the sordid truth to Alice out loud, it was one thing to describe the harassment she received, and another altogether to experience it up close. Maybe she was a coward, but Rosa wasn’t sure she’d survive that. How would she be able to look Alice in the face every day, knowing that her own poor decisions were the source of all their shared misery?
Despite her inner turmoil, Rosa didn’t get in her car and leave. She couldn’t. After confirming that both Alice’s bags and her car were still exactly where she’d last seen them, Rosa found it impossible to simply pack her things and go, even though she should. If she were serious about ending things with Alice, the smart move would be to drive as far and as fast from this place as her reasonably priced sedan could take her.
Except she wasn’t smart. Obviously.
More to the point, Rosa no longer trusted her ability to differentiate between right and wrong. Not with this. Leaving now meant she’d most likely never see Alice again, and despite what she’d said earlier, she wasn’t ready for that.
Not even close.
Unfortunately, she also wasn’t ready to see Alice face-to-face. Her will was too weak, her emotions too volatile. She hated herself for what she’d done, completely, yet wished for nothing more than the privilege of being allowed to love Alice Wu. Turned inside out like this, she didn’t know how she’d react if they ran into each other. If Alice opened her arms, she just might fall into them, only to reset the clock on the broken heart that would follow the inevitable end of their relationship. Was it better to feel this way now, or even worse in six months? Rosa thought she knew the answer to that question, but the certainty of future pain did nothing to erase the agony of her present heartache. She had no idea what to do.
Rosa flashed back to the expression on Alice’s face right before she’d turned and walked away, the plaintive mask of pure sadness Rosa had glimpsed for only an instant. Alice’s primal reaction to brutal trauma—trauma inflicted by her—had been so visceral that the memory would haunt Rosa for the rest of her days. As she relived the moment for the hundredth time, nausea bloomed in Rosa’s stomach, slowing her rapid, aimless meandering only twenty yards from the path that led to the archery range. Not wanting to linger too long where Alice might see her, Rosa resumed her walk at a more moderate pace, stopping to read the sign posted at the head of the short trail. Sober Activity!
Rosa smiled. Perfect. No drunk jerks and, presumably, no Alice. She’d demurred at Rosa’s halfhearted attempt to get her to try shooting a bow and arrow the day before, protesting that she would be too self-conscious to learn a new skill around so many strangers. Granted, drunk field day had disqualified most of the other campers from participating in target practice for the next few hours, at the very least, but Alice probably wouldn’t think of that.
At least Rosa hoped she wouldn’t.
She approached the range tentatively, at first unsure whether anyone had remained behind to accommodate the nondrinkers and those averse to three-legged races. After a quick scan, she spotted the lone counselor on duty, a broad-shouldered, tattooed twenty-something man who sat on a stool with a portable game console in his hands. Wholly intent on the action onscreen, he moved his thumbs rapidly over the buttons in a manner that outed him as a veteran gamer. Exactly the demographic Rosa wanted to avoid. Quietly, she took a step backward and swiveled to make a rapid getaway.
“Hey, wait! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you. Just let me—” The counselor was fumbling with the controls when Rosa turned around, still staring at the screen, but with a different sort of urgency. “And…done!” He slipped the game system into a hard plastic case and set it aside, then jumped off the stool to shake her hand. “Hi, I’m Nick. The guy who stopped expecting to see sober fans of the bow and arrow at least forty-five minutes ago.”
Rosa put on her most practiced, confident facade. Inside, she quaked. He plays games. He’ll recognize me. Aiming for nonchalance, she said, “I’m Lila. The woman who avoids hangovers at all costs.”
Nick rewarded her with laughter and an empathetic nod. “Smart.”
“I do what I can.” She glanced around, wishing for a graceful exit. What could she say? She’d changed her mind? Or, surprise, she really wasn’t sober? Choosing the path of least resistance, she said, “You know what? I’m not feeling very well all of a sudden. I should probably go lie down.”
Nick frowned slightly, face etched with concern. “I’m really sorry to hear that. I was looking forward to doing something other than failing miserably at this level of Stealth Inc. for the thousandth time.”
Rosa relaxed marginally, ridiculous as it sounded, at the revelation of Nick’s relatively innocuous taste in games. “That one’s brutal,” she replied on autopilot, awash in memories of her own time having her ass handed to her again and again by the indie puzzle-platform title. Realizing, belatedly, that she’d just identified herself as a gamer, too, Rosa quickly backpedaled. “Or so I’ve heard.”
Nick gave her a kind smile, then pulled a bow off the wall and offered it to her. “You sure you don’t want to shoot an arrow or two? I promise it’s easier than Stealth Inc.”
Unsure where she’d even go upon leaving the range, Rosa acceded with a reluctant nod. “All right.”
“Great.” Rubbing his hands together in exaggerated delight, Nick handed her a brown leather cuff from the nearby counter. “Go ahead and slip on this arm guard. It’ll prevent the bowstring from snapping your skin.”
Rosa slid her forearm into the cuff and fastened it in place, praying she wasn’t making a mistake by giving Nick time to look past her new haircut and fake name to discover a genuine gaming antiheroine in his midst. “It’s on.”
“Don’t be nervous.” He retrieved an arrow and demonstrated how to nock it on the string, then pull back to aim. “One fluid motion, see? Now…you’re right-handed?”
“Yeah.” Rosa took the bow and arrow when he offered them, mimicking his technique for positioning the projectile on the string. “Like this?”
“Exactly.” Nick grabbed a second bow off the wall, and another arrow, so he could stand next to her and demonstrate the proper stance. “While holding the bow with your left hand, point your left shoulder toward the target. Your feet should be placed a shoulder’s width apart, perpendicular to the target. Like so.”
Rosa pantomimed his movements, settling in as she aimed at a brightly colored bull’s-eye pinned to a hay bale some distance away. “All right.”
“Use three fingers to hold your arrow. Good,” he said when she followed his example. “Now show me how you raise and draw.”
Rosa attempted to duplicate his earlier example but immediately recognized that her form wasn’t quite right. “What am I doing wrong?”
“You just need to tweak a couple things.” Nick demonstrated raising his bow again. “Hold your bow arm outward toward the target. Your inner elbow needs to stay parallel to the ground, and the bow should remain vertical. So you can literally look straight down the spine of the arrow.”
Rosa adjusted her shooting position. “Got it.”
“Now when you draw, move your string hand toward your face to an anchor point. Usually that’ll be somewhere around your chin, cheek, ear, or even the corner of your mouth. Think of that as a reference point that needs to remain consistent from shot to shot. Try not to relax too m
uch or keep pulling once you reach that anchor point, if you want to achieve maximum power and control.”
Rosa watched Nick raise and draw the bow a few more times, using his example to gradually improve her own form. Finally, upon receiving his approval, she asked, “How do I aim?”
“Why don’t you follow your instincts? Let the arrow go and see what happens.” Warmth crept into his tone. “Pretend it’s a video game.”
Cringing, Rosa considered feigning ignorance on the subject before immediately discarding the idea. The only thing worse than being the target of crude comments and death threats was having to deny this essential part of who she was. She and her brother had grown up playing games together. He’d never had to lie or feel sheepish about his hobbies, and she didn’t want to, either. Rather than answer Nick at all, she looked down the length of the arrow, tried pointing the tip toward the center of the target, and released the taut string. The arrow flew away swiftly, impacting a couple inches below and to the right of the bull’s-eye.
At the thwack of her successful hit, Nick hooted and cheered. “Right on! Way to make me look like a badass instructor.”
Rosa shrugged. “You’re not terrible.” They traded friendly smiles. “May I try another?”
“Of course.” Nick grabbed a handful of arrows and set them on the counter next to her. “Knock yourself out.”
Rosa fired three more times, adjusting her stance and aim until, finally, she delivered an arrow millimeters below the top edge of the bull’s-eye. A little embarrassed by Nick’s enthusiastic reaction, she nonetheless returned his high five with a light chuckle. “Way to make me feel like a badass student.”
“You’re great. Seriously.” He leaned closer like he was preparing to share a big secret. “You should see all the shenanigans amateur archers get into, sober or not. It’s rare for any of my students to hit the target on their first try.”
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