Page 118 of Within These County Lines

“Meet me at the Ardor Tree now,” I instruct.

I don’t have time for explanations.

We carved the wrong names into the tree to break the curse. I wrote Murray’s when it should’ve been Xander’s. All along, I’ve been too afraid to admit my feelings for Xander, terrified that letting myself love again would trap me here, just like before. But now it’s clear that loving him isn’t what’s keeping me stuck, it’s the only way to escape.

My truck crashes into the road’s shoulder for an uneven park job. I exit with my crowbar in hand, my palms slick with sweat.

I take the shortest path through the woods and reach the tree first, but the sound of laughter and high-pitched shrieks echoes behind me.

Twigs snap. Leaves crunch.

The campers are close.

We don’t have much time.

I scramble down the rounded hill, following the thick, clawing roots into the sewer pipe. It yawns open before me, a six-foot-high tunnel covered in graffiti. My pulse pounds so hard it feels like it’s lifting me off the ground with every step.

I switch on my phone’s flashlight to cut through the darkness. A root, twisted like a Twizzler, stretches infinitely along the top of the pipe. I reach for it. A shock zaps through my fingers.

I gasp, then break into a sprint, heading deeper into the shadows. My feet slam into shallow water and send waves crashing against the curved iron walls like a hurtling log flume.

The roots never stop. They aren’t searching for moisture, like the pool guy at Rainbow Valley assumed. They’re searching for people. People who live and lie for love.

The Ardor Tree’s magic isn’t just an old Penango legend. It’s alive. And it’s spreading.

“Stetson! We’re here!”

Xander’s voice reverberates through the tunnel, stopping my heart as fast as it stops my feet. I turn back. A sliver of sunlight remains in my vision.

“Xander!” I yell, sprinting toward the opening. “I know how to fix it! We can break the curse!”

I leap through the tunnel’s mouth and collide into Xander. He groans. Dara stands beside him, dressed in all black, looking unimpressed as usual.

I grip Xander’s forearms. “Stetson, what’s going on?” he asks, breathless. “Why are all these people here?”

“Please tell me this was worth sticking around Penango,” Dara says, folding her arms.

Above us, the campers crowd the tree’s base, chatting and giggling as they press their hands to the bark. Their bright outfits form a rainbow before the storm.

I lick my lips. “It all clicked today. We were right. The tree cursed us. It punishes rule breakers, and its roots run through the sewer system so no one can escape. The curse spreads across the whole county!” I point into the tunnel’s darkness. “This pipe leads straight to Rainbow Valley.”

Xander and Dara trace the roots with their eyes as their expressions darken.

“Well, now that we got the backstory,” Dara quips, “what do we do? Tear up these roots? We already tried rewriting our names.” She reaches for a root, but it zaps her before she can touch it. “Ouch!” She sucks on her finger. “Damn, I hate this thing.”

“That’s where we were wrong,” I say.

I pull Xander up the hill, pushing aside campers who block our path to the trunk. Dara follows.

“Excuse you!” a camper squeals.

“Hello, hot camp counselor,” one boy says under his breath.

“What are we going to write now?” Xander asks as we reach the tree.

At my feet lies the same jagged rock I used to destroy my heart with Murray’s name. I pick it up and place it in Dara’s hands.

“Take this and carve someone’s name in a heart. Someone you truly love.”