Winterwood

Suzy lowers her arms and even her gaze, sinking back beside Rhett.

The air between them has changed.

They refuse to answer my question, to tell me the truth. Maybe they’re protecting Oliver—they don’t want me to know what he did. And I can feel everyone holding their breath. The seconds stalling around us, waiting for someone to speak, to admit some truth I can’t yet see. What happened that night? I want to scream. What did Oliver do?

The fire writhes and spits up more smoke, chewing apart the damp wood.

Jasper rolls his head back, looking up at the trees. “I hate these woods,” he murmurs, staggering to one side, the bottle in his hand sloshing amber liquid onto his reindeer sweater. “Shit,” he cries out suddenly, lidded eyes going wide as he starts to wheel backward, off-balance. He trips on something—maybe his own feet—and he careens back away from the campfire, arms waving in the air, and crashes hard against the base of a broad fir tree.

Suzy clasps a hand over her mouth, stunned.

Jasper lets out a small gasp of air and a wheezing moan. Blood trickles from his cheek—where a branch sliced his flesh as he fell—and I watch the drops fall, painting the snow red. My heart stutters in my chest.

“Fuck!” Jasper exclaims, rubbing a hand over the gash, blood smearing his palm, as pinecones tumble down from the tree, plopping onto the snow around him.

“You’re so fucking wasted,” Lin remarks, shaking his head.

Rhett laughs at this, but the trees closest to us bristle, roots turning in the soil. They don’t want us here.

I take a swift step forward and kick snow onto the fire, dousing it in one quick motion. Gray, ashy smoke spirals up into the sky.

“Why the hell did you do that?” Rhett barks.

“Told you that you’d anger the trees. You can’t build a fire this close to the forest.”

Rhett takes a step toward me, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Stupid witch,” he spits under his breath.

But Suzy reaches out and grabs his arm, and he looks back at her. “Leave her alone,” she says.

Rhett’s eyebrows pull together, but his arm relaxes—as though just her touch is enough to calm his temper.

“I don’t like it out here anyway,” Lin admits, stepping back from the group and moving toward the trees, toward the lake.

Jasper glances down at the empty liquor bottle lying in the snow. “And I need more booze,” he slurs, before crawling to his feet.

“Fine,” Rhett says, his tone blunt-edged and irritated, eyes watching me a second more before turning back to Suzy. “We can go back to the cabin.” He slings an arm over Suzy’s shoulder. “You coming?”

She tilts her head up at him, giving up a coy little shrug, like she’s considering her other options for the night. Other plans. She glances at me and slips free of Rhett’s arm, saying softly so only I can hear, “You should come too.”

I shake my head. “No thanks.” I have zero interest in spending a single minute more with these boys.

Rhett slaps Jasper on the shoulder as he stumbles to his feet, laughing, but Jasper shrugs him off. Like he’s embarrassed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go with them either,” I whisper to Suzy, keeping my voice low.

Her eyes sag a little, like she’s tired, or maybe it’s pity I see—she feels bad for me. Nora Walker who has no real friends. “I’ll be back before the sun comes up,” she says, like she wants to reassure me.

But I don’t nod; I feel only a twinge of unease. “I don’t think you should trust them.” Maybe I’m being paranoid, or maybe it’s only because Oliver said he doesn’t trust them. But I don’t want her to go with Rhett, with any of them.

She smiles, lifting an eyebrow conspiratorially. “They’re idiots, I know. But they’re fun and I’m bored.” She gives me a wink and reaches forward to squeeze my hand.

I open my mouth to tell her not to go, but I snap it shut again. She won’t listen to me anyway. And she can do what she wants. She can leave and sleep in Rhett’s cabin and she doesn’t owe me a thing. But it doesn’t stop the gnawing worry that presses at my temples. The hurt at the back of my skull.

I watch them all march off through the snow, down toward the lake, Jasper staggering behind with the empty bottle in his hand. The fire pit smolders—the air tinged with the scent of ash—and I listen carefully to the trees settling back into slumber. Their roots sinking beneath the soil, limbs swaying softly.

And I wonder if maybe it’s only the sounds of the trees that have frightened the boys. If that’s what they hear at night when everything is too quiet—the voices they think haunt them at camp. Or if it’s something else. Something worse.

Something they won’t talk about.

I feel the sinking weight of the cold, of too many questions, and I suddenly don’t want to be out here in the dark—alone. I turn and start for the house, snow blowing in drifts of white.

I’m only a few yards into the tree line when I feel the shiver of someone watching.