I try to hold my head high as I march toward Cam’s house, even though I’m pummeled with wave after wave of déjà vu along his block. That’s the curb I crashed into on my bike five years ago, where Cam pulled off his jacket and held it against the bleeding. That’s the tree branch where we saved a cat, who then promptly scratched both our faces off in apparent gratitude. I know every detail of this street so well that even the memories are painful. By the time I get to Cam’s front door, I can barely breathe. I knock twice, but no one answers.
“V?”
I turn around, away from the door. Cam stops halfway upthe porch steps. A duffel bag is slung over one shoulder. Of course he would be at some sports practice.
I clear my throat. “Oh, hi, yeah. Heya.”
Greatstart.
Cam leans against the railing. “What’s up?”
My knuckles go slightly white around the file. I try to think of a good answer. My teeth skim over my bottom lip. “The yearbook needs some filler pages for our archive scans, and I remembered that old book you had—”
“Gay Treasures?” he says, eyebrows furrowed.
I nod as if I had completely forgotten the title. “Right! That one. And anyway, the others thought it could work, maybe. So I was wondering if, um, you might still have it hanging around so we could scan a few pages. For the yearbook.”
Cam squints hard at me. “For the yearbook.”
I pretend to be super interested in a spider scrambling up the wood siding. “That’s what I said.”
Cam sets his duffel down next to him. I can feel his demanding glare, but I’m determined not to look back. If I can just avoid eye contact for a couple more minutes—
“I thought we were done with the treasure hunt,” Cam says. And suddenly it’s extremely hard not to look at him, because for the first time in ages, his fake, carefree vibe is gone. For the first time in—maybe ever?—he looks truly and utterly pissed.
Fine, I think to myself angrily. The masks are off.
“Weare done with the treasure hunt,” I say in agreement.
“What’s that?” Cam asks. He points to the file.
“Noth— Hey!”
The whole thing is suddenly yanked out of my hands. I watch as Cam pries it open and sees the flyer. His breath catches on the line that matches our clue. His eyes flit back to mine.
“When were you going to tell me about this?”
“Um, never? We’re not friends anymore.”
“This was our thing,” Cam shouts. I cannot believe he is actually shouting. “You can’t just go behind my back and keep working on it without me!”
“I can do whatever I want!” I yell back.
I’m so tired of Cam pinning me under his thumb. It’s like he can’t be happy unless he knows I’m nearby and miserable. But not this time. This time I’m winning our stupid game. I’m finding that treasure and getting the hell out of here.
I hold my hand out expectantly. “Give that back,” I growl.
“So that’s why you want the book?” Cam asks. “You’re going to finish the hunt?”
I pause, then give a curt nod.
Cam looks down at his hands. “I see,” he murmurs. He sets his jaw and raises the file halfway out to me. But just as I reach for the other end, Cam’s eyes widen. It’s like I can actually see the evil idea entering his brain.
“Don’t you dare—” I start.
But before I can finish, Cam whirls around and sprints down the block, clutching my one and only copy of Harvey’s birthday flyer.
ThatfuckingIan.
