“Two things,” she says, suddenly all business. “One: did you decide between chicken and sea bass for the reception?”
“I—what?”
“For the wedding, darling. Your brother’s wedding. Which is happening, I’ll remind you, three days after you get back.”
“Oh. Uh. Sea bass?” Is she serious right now?
“Lovely. And two—you’ve written your speech, haven’t you?”
I swallow. “I’ve definitely… thought about it.”
“Archie.”
“Iwillwrite it. I promise,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “It’s just—I don’t have a lot of free time here. But don’t worry. It’ll be great.”
Mum sighs on the other end, clearly not convinced. “Fine. Just don’t leave it till the night before. Now, tell me more about the work you’ve been doing over there.”
I lean back against the tree trunk and rehash my first day—the school we’re helping to rebuild, the hours spent in the sun laying bricks and hammering things I’m still not entirely sure were meant to be hammered. I throw in a few of the lighter stories too—how the kids have started calling me “Big Foot” and have appointed me their official team goalie yesterday.
I leave out the part where I completely forgot to clean the latrines. No need to give her more reason to worry—or ammunition for a future roast.
We hang up, andjust as I’m about to head back to the common room, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see Katherine stepping around a tree.
“Soundedveryimportant,” she says, her voice flat with sarcasm.
I open my mouth to answer, but she’s already walking away. It’s better that way, actually. I really don’t have the energy to deal with her anymore.
Chapter 7
“You’re a bit terrifying, you know that?”
Kat
It’s been a long week, but I’m finally settling into a rhythm. Every day blurs into the next—long hours attending patients in the makeshift clinic, dusty air clinging to my clothes as children’s voices dance outside the tent walls. I’ve gotten faster with my diagnoses, and more efficient with the limited equipment we have.
I haven’t interacted with Archie since the tablet incident, which has only contributed to my good mood. He does his thing, and I do mine. If I shut my eyes really hard, I can almost forget he’s here. Well, I’d have to shut my ears too, because I can’t seem to escape his obnoxious laughter or the giggles of the women who flock around him.
This morning, I feel particularly good. The best I’ve felt since I arrived, actually. The headache that has followed me around for three days is gone, my stomach isn’t rebelling against breakfast, and my sleep wasn’t interrupted by the incessant buzzing of mosquitoes.
After stretching out my arms, I decide to go for a run. I need to shake off the stiffness that’s settled into my limbs from all that crouching and huddling in the clinic. Besides, the supply truck hasn’t arrived yet. It was supposed to get here yesterday, but word is it’s been pushed to this afternoon. Which means I’ve got time.
I pull on my trainers and tug my hair into a quick bun, then step out into the pale orange light of dawn.
To my annoyance, I’m greeted by the sight of Archie stretching. Arms craned over his head, back arched, one foot pressed behind him in a perfect runner’s pose, like he’s filming an ad for some elite-athlete protein powder. His shirt is already off, hanging around his neck, and sweat glistens on his numerous abs, catching the morning sunlight.
Swallowing hard, I look away.
Of course he’s working out this morning. With all the time and energy he has, he probably goes for a jog every day at the break of dawn.
He acknowledges me with that half smirk, half arrogant eyebrow raise I hate so much. I just ignore it. Tightening my bun, I step off the wooden plank and start jogging down the dirt path without a word.
The air is crisp this early. Still fresh with dew, not yet heavy with heat. I run ahead, the dirt track springy underfoot. The sun is only just lifting over the acacia trees, but already the village is stirring around us. A child waves from behind a makeshift fence, and I raise a hand back, smiling between breaths. I haven’t felt this light in weeks. It’s peaceful and energizing, and—
“Oi!” Archie calls from behind me, his voice gruff with irritation.
I glance over my shoulder. He’s swatting at something near his neck, his stride breaking. Another slap. Then a curse.
By the time I slow down, he’s pushed past me, but his gait is off. One hand still presses his shoulder. Not just annoyance. Something else.
