Page 91 of Within These County Lines

“Ha. Ha.” Dara frowns.

“It’s actually not a bad place when no one can see you,” Xander adds. “There’s good swimming, hiking, and clean air. It’s a nature lover’s paradise.” He nudges her.

Dara laughs. “It’s not nearly as pleasant when half of town can’t see you. It’s just confusing. So speak for yourself.”

“Oh, I am speaking for myself.” Xander smirks. “And if we’re keeping score, I can confidently claim that I got the worst of this curse.”

“Because you didn’t put anyone in the heart,” I remind him.

“There was no one for me to love.” He throws up his hand. “I was just trying to have a moment with the tree like everyone else in town. Sue me.”

I sigh as I dig through the back of my truck. “Here.” I toss him an ice scraper. “Take this.”

He frowns. “What’s this for?”

“To carve a name into the tree.”

“Hmm.” He twirls it in his hands for an inspection.

Dara steps forward. “Got anything else?”

I pull out a crowbar from my tire-changing kit. “This should do.” I place it in her palm. She weighs it in her grip. “I’ll use one of those tools when you guys are done.”

Dara marches into the woods. Xander follows, practically skipping. I let them get ahead. I prefer to trail Xander. Even on the darkest paths, the bounce of his tight curls eases the tension in my muscles like jingle bells at Christmas.

But this time I’m met with a winter sadness. When Xander has all the boys in the world to fill the blank space in his heart, who will he choose?

The tree stands just as we left it. Its crowned branches are black against the sunset sky. Its roots curl along the ground like witch hands hunting for their next victim. The graffiti-covered drainage pipe oozes a fluorescent liquid from a love potion gone wrong.

Dara steps over the gnarled roots, continuing to lead our charge. “I don’t remember where I carved my boys suck message.” She flips her hair. The crowbar dangles at her side like a murder weapon.

“I don’t think it matters,” I say. “Maybe just write something new. Destroying my old message didn’t work for me.”

She nods, narrowing her lips. “What’ll it be, boys? Boys rule? Dara loves boys? Boys don’t suck? What works best with your fragile egos?”

Xander scoffs. “Let’s remember who the real enemy is here. We aren’t like those high school boys who rejected you.”

Dara laughs. “Who said I was rejected?” She leans back, grips the crowbar, and strikes the tree. “Maybe I just couldn’t find any boys up to my standards.”

A shiver runs down my spine as bark splinters through the air. One shard lands on my cheek, sparking the memory of my own fatal mistake, the one that set this all in motion.

I touch the healing wound on my forehead. The pink skin is smooth.

I grab Xander’s hand and pull him toward the center trunk, away from Dara’s relentless carving.

“Hurry.” I nudge him up the tree. “I don’t want to be out here when it gets dark.”

Xander hesitates to climb toward his heart, gripping the ice scraper. “Who should I write?” he asks, voice uneven. “In my new heart.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Who was your high school crush?”

He scratches his head. “Does it have to be someone from then?”

“Well, yeah,” I say. “Don’t just write Timothée Chalamet or someone random.”

He sighs.

“Make it someone from Penango who you went to school with. It’s your best shot.”