“Oh, Logan.” My heart squeezes. “You were twelve years old. What could you have done?”
“Something.” He looks up, and I see the little boy again. The one who cared so much and tried so hard to do the right thing. The generous thing. The one who shut down that day, and I never knew why. “I could’ve talked to the officials and convinced them it was some magic trick we pulled. Or maybe get the other kids to agree it was all a big joke, that they didn’t actually see what they’d said they saw.”
“I don’t think any of that would’ve worked,” I whisper.
“Maybe I should’ve been brave enough to look into his face as they dragged him away. Tell him I loved him so he wouldn’t feel so alone. But I didn’t. And that’s why I couldn’t talk to you. I couldn’t even look at you without hearing those words. Do something.” He inches forward on his knees, and the world fades away. There are no oars digging into the water, no sun’s rays warming my shoulders, no leaves fluttering in the wind. There’s just Logan and me and these words between us. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just couldn’t bear to see the blame in your eyes.”
“I never blamed you. Not for a second.”
For a moment, we don’t speak. The air around us is stuffed with so many thoughts, so many emotions. Any second now, it will burst and the excess will rain on us like a hailstorm.
“Maybe I blamed myself.” His voice is low, so low, as if these words have never been spoken before, and he’s scared to speak them now. “And I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
You sure did. But the old anger fails to rise. My chest is too blocked up. There’s no room for anything but this ache that’s splitting me in two.
“That’s what you meant on the roof,” I say. “You jumped with me to try and make up for the past.”
His lips curve, the ghost of a grin that died five years ago. “I want him to be proud of me.”
Your poor parents. First, they lose Mikey, and now you.
I don’t say it out loud, though. If I do, he might get upset, and then I’ll start crying. Once I go down that path, I’ll think of my mom and Jessa, and then where will I be? A blubbering fool, no good for anything.
Instead, I smile so big it makes my cheeks hurt. “How much longer before we break for the night?”
17
The sun is low in the sky when Logan suggests we stop. We pull the boat onto the shore and walk until we find a clearing not too littered with rocks. Moss-covered roots jut out of the ground, and all manner of plants—fan-shaped, spiky, broad—crowd under the soaring trees. It smells like the earth here, of worms and raindrops, so unlike the steel and pavement of the city.
I step behind a tree and change out of the yellow jumpsuit into a clean black shirt and pants, identical to the uniform I used to wear at school during the Fitness Core. It’s remarkable what a change of clothes can do to a person. I almost feel refreshed. When I come back, Logan is sitting on the ground, arranging the contents of the backpack into piles.
I fold the jumpsuit and set it next to the backpack, even though I’d rather burn it. I sneak a look at Logan, only to find him watching me, and we both look away. The old awkwardness looms between us. I chew my lips and try to figure out what to do with my hands. I clasp them behind my back, but that looks stupid. Cross my arms over my waist. Too defensive.
Come on, Callie. Get it together. He’s just a boy.
No, never, a voice inside me whispers. Like you’ve never been just a girl to him.
The warmth begins in my stomach and creeps out to my skin. I give up on my hands and crouch down to study the piles of supplies. Anything to avoid the weight of his gaze.
Tins. Lots of metal tins, labeled on the side. Rope. A compass. Extra clothes. A map.
And then… What on earth? Packs of underwear, in varying sizes, and the largest pair of sneakers I’ve ever seen. I don’t get it. I’m not a wilderness expert or anything, but why do we need so much underwear? Size fourteen sneakers probably fit two people in