Still feeling uneasy about the situation, I quickly tap out a text, telling Roach:
10:05 p.m - Sending my location just in case you don’t hear from me again, Clue style.
10:05 p.m - It was Easton.
10:05 p.m - At Crystal Lake.
10:06 p.m - Death by either drowning or I was burned at the stake like all the brave women who dared stand up to the man before me.
10:06 p.m - Remember, this is MY place. Don’t you dare tell those twats where I am, and don’t show up or I will cut you in your sleep. I’ll message you when he leaves.
I hit send then toss my phone on the seat next to me.
“This should be fun.”
After pulling up next to him, I hop out.
“Got any chairs in that bus?” he asks as he sets the four pieces of wood against each other in a teepee shape.
“I do. I also have some tinder and kindling.”
He nods. “Guess they are right about you, huh?”
“Who? Heather and Chloe? No. I’m nothing like Kimmy—”
“No, Ziggy and Roach. I asked them where to find you, and they mentioned The Bean or the woods.”
“Fucking traitors,” I mumble as I slide open the side door of the van.
“Fucking idiots, but not traitors,” he says as he pulls a joint out from behind his ear. “They said to offer the Indian a peace pipe, and she’d be less vicious. Still idiots, though.” He tosses it to me. “Shouldn’t let you come out here by yourself. No place for a girl all alone.”
“I don’t require a knight in shining armor. And seriously, stow the me Tarzan, you Jane bullshit. You don’t even know how to start a fire.” I toss him some twigs wrapped in twine then a baggy full of dryer lint.
He chuckles as he squats down and pushes the twigs under the wood. “They also said you’re a manhater.”
“Well, men make it so damn easy to hate them.” I pull two bagged folding chairs out from under the seat.
“I was raised by a single mom who busted her ass to give us a home. She did just that and never really got a chance to enjoy it, because she was working all the time.” He pulls a lighter out of his pocket, flicks it, and holds the flame to the lint. “When she died, she still never had time to enjoy it.”
He stands and wipes his hands on his faded jeans. “My father was an addict, piece of shit, who didn’t show up until she was gone, trying to get something from a woman wronged and a kid who he never gave a fuck about, Savvy, so you don’t have to sell me on how strong women are. I know. As for teaching me how to build a fire, no, she didn’t have time.”
I shake my head. “Sorry. I just—”
“Stereotyped me. Yeah, you did.” He takes one of the chairs and pulls it out of the bag before setting it up. “I’m here on scholarship, and I’m going to Colombia on a scholarship. I don’t taking handouts, but someday, I hope to help some kid whose only parent that they ever knew can’t anymore.”
I set my chair next to his, and we both sit down.
“I guess I should be offering you the peace pipe, huh?” I ask, holding out the joint.
“How about you tell me? You can ignore the shit those bitches said about you, because you know who you are and what they say, and what they think doesn’t mean dick. Tell me you’re gonna get through with this bullshit school, maybe do the same thing I am, and tell me you really aren’t gonna push Heather to steal your file, because that will come back on me.”
“How will it come back on you?” I ask, lighting the joint.
He sits forward, rests his elbows on his knees, and looks over at me, his blue eyes narrowed. “Not all rumors are lies.”
I hand him the joint, and he takes a small hit then flicks the cherry off it.
“Dude, what the fuck?”
He slowly releases the smoke from his mouth, blowing it out, then asks, “You hearing me, Savvy? Not all rumors are lies, and not all buried truths need to be uncovered.”
“So, the rumor about you having some book that holds all the secrets to every student who has ever attended here and could ruin their lives is true?”
He shrugs. “If I did, I wouldn’t touch the fucking thing unless I had to.”