Page 119 of Within These County Lines

Her lips part. “Even if it’s not a boy?”

I nod. “As long as it’s honest.”

With a deep breath, she vanishes behind the trunk.

I turn to Xander, searching his face. “Back in your tree house,” I say, my voice shaking, “you told me I could be the name for your blank space. Did you mean it?”

He raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“You said you had an extra chair for someone to sit.” I swallow. “The same person who could fill the blank space in your heart. Can it be me?”

His face flushes. “Well, yeah. I was hoping it would be all summer.”

“Then trust me on this.”

I nod before starting to carve my newest heart.

One that’s true.

“Stetson!” Kim yells. She steps in front of the onlooking campers. “What are you doing here?”

“These. Kids. Can’t. Touch. This. Tree.” I etch each letter of my name with my crowbar. “It. Is. Cursed.” I gasp for breath. “Only. People. In. Love. Belong. Here.”

The heart comes together faster than any before. I drop the crowbar to admire my work, my chest heaving, fixing the curse for both of us.

“Xander and Stetson,” Xander reads.

“Xander and Stetson,” I repeat.

He stares. “You’re in love with me?”

Suddenly, the tree moans to life.

A sonic boom erupts from its core and sends shock waves through the ground, rattling our knees. Everyone shudders. Campers shriek and grab on to each other. Xander jumps into my arms.

I find Louise and Abigail’s pentacle on the bark, and it glows bright like the sun.

“Stetson!” Dara yells. She crawls toward me on the shifting earth.

I reach for her, but hundreds of leaves break free from their stems and plunge like nose-diving planes. My hand recoils. They spiral into a tornado. The suction lifts Xander’s curls and wraps his shark-tooth chain tight around his neck. Dara’s shirt flaps like a flag.

I hold on to Xander with everything I have.

“Is it working?” he shouts over the storm.

“I think so!” I respond.

Then—silence.

As quickly as they started, the tree’s movements stop. The whirlwind dies.

I’m the first to face the consequences of our actions. The leaves rain to the ground and pile up to our knees. My clothes are nearly inside out, my hair sticks in all directions.

We gasp for breath.

“Xander, it’s done,” I whisper, shaking him. “You can open your eyes.”

His body trembles. Slowly, he opens one eye, then the other.