Page 117 of Within These County Lines

From its opening, roots spill outward in five directions, like gnarled fingers reaching for a ledge. My breath stammers. How many curses have they cast? How many innocent children have fallen into their grips?

It’s a small relief knowing we were right about the tree. We weren’t just desperate or grasping at straws. We trusted our instincts and now the truth is clear. But the realization doesn’t change anything. It won’t break the curse.

I search for Xander, eager to tell him what I’ve learned. Clarity, after ten years, has to be worth something.

“Hey, Stetson,” someone says.

My heart jumps. I spin around to find Sheryl walking toward me across the pool deck.

“Hey, Sheryl,” I say, exhaling.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie, distracted by the roots. “I was surprised to find the place so empty.”

Sheryl thrusts her hands in her pockets. “Oh, yeah. Kim took all the new campers down to the Ardor Tree.”

My clipboard slips from my fingers. It clatters against the concrete between my feet. “What?” My voice comes out too loud. “Why?”

“We thought it would be a cute way to start camp. The kids are going to write a word to describe their next school year on the bark. I’m guessing you’ve heard of it. Most people in Penango have. Queer kids were always left out of the tradition, so we’re going to reclaim it as—”

“No!” I shout.

Sheryl steps back.

“It doesn’t work like that,” I say, my hands flying behind my head. “Oh my god. When did they leave?”

“Not too long ago.” Her expression becomes uneasy. “Stetson, what’s going on?”

“The tree has rules that can’t be broken or else . . . things happen. Bad things!” I motion toward the pool. “Those roots. They’re from the Ardor Tree.”

She laughs. “Come on. Those rules were made up by old folks in this town.”

I suck in a breath through my teeth. “What if I told you the rules weren’t made, but cast? Like a curse.”

She chuckles again, shaking her head. “When I was in high school at Stillwell Trail, I used to write all these boys’ names on the tree, hoping it’d make them like me. It never did. They only ignored me more than before.”

“Exactly! So why would you make these kids do that?” I start backing away. “I have to stop them.”

“Now, hold on.” She raises her hands, signaling me to slow down. “When I met Kim, that all changed. We fell in love, and I carved our names in a heart.” She pauses, her face softening with the memory. “Suddenly the boys noticed me. It was like for the first time, they could actually see me. But at that point, I didn’t care. It’s like the Ardor Tree knew when my carved heart was full of true love.”

My whole body stiffens.

True love.

The words slam into me like a punch to the gut. My summer rewinds at warp speed—Xander and me, twirling under twinkle lights, laughing in my truck on the open road, fingers intertwined as we walked through the woods, his body curled against mine in the tree house.

Xander and me, over and over again.

“True love?” I echo, my voice nearly breaking.

“You’ll know when you find it.” Sheryl nods. “It fixes most things.”

A sharp pain shoots across my chest. “I . . .” It’s nearly impossible to talk through the knot in my throat. “I really need to go.”

Just like all other curses before ours, this one can’t withstand true love. The tree allows people to fall out of love, but it rejects lies!

Back in my truck, I grip the wheel, my knuckles white as I speed down the road, swerving between lanes while I call Dara and Xander.