The week before our final year on the swim team, I could tell Korie was less excited about the upcoming season, and I’d asked them almost the same question that father had asked his son.
Be honest. Do you still want to do this with me?
Tears well in my eyes.
It wasn’t do you still want to do this.
It was do you still want to do thiswith me.
Oh, Korie.
Had they stayed on the team for me?
My fingers itch to call them, but I don’t.
By the fifth day, I’m exhausted. Not physically. Emotionally. My nerves are frayed, and my patience is thin.
I’m seriously questioning if I should just skip the campout entirely. The idea of spending an entire weekend around couples and shared tents and everyone asking where Korie is sounds genuinely miserable.
But not showing up would make people worry even more.
So I go.
The cabin and pasture are buzzing with noise by the time I arrive. Music drifting through the trees. Smoke curling up from the fire pit. People unloading coolers and bags.
It’s all so painfully normal, aside from one very noticeable thing. No neon hair or brightly colored clothing. Korie always goes overboard for this weekend, being obnoxiously bright and impossible to miss. Not seeing their usual flash of pink or electric blue hair hits hard.
I wave at Korie’s parents nearby and tip my head at Trista. I’m hoping I can make it through tonight without talking to anyone. My presence alone is enough to count for something, right?
“Holden!”
I groan. I should’ve known…
Hattie barrels into me from the side, nearly knocking the air out of my lungs.
“There you are.” She squints up at me immediately. “I called you five times before I left the city. Wait a minute. You look like shit.”
I scoff. “Love you too.”
“I’m serious.”
I turn away, but she grips my chin and turns me right back.
I bat her hand away. “Stop.”
She narrows her eyes harder, and gasps. “No.”
That’s it. Just one word and I feel like I might cower. Instantly, her eyes dart around for Korie, then her voice lowers.
“You were supposed to fix things.”
I grimace. If she only knew how much worse it is now…
I drag my shit out of the car and wander over to the pile of tents near Dad’s truck. There are only a couple left. I grab one and walk to the far end of the field, hoping my sister will back off.
But nobody reads me faster than Hattie does, which is deeply unfortunate for me most of the time. Freaky twin bond and all.
“Where are they?”
