Page 99 of Within These County Lines

He picks up a dry leaf and crushes it between his fingers. “That seems like a really harsh sentence for a boy who just wanted to go to prom with someone he actually liked.” His voice cracks.

I stare at him. I don’t know what to say.

His curse is so much worse than mine. The Ardor Tree used the mathematical process of canceling out. He wanted more, but the tree removed all his mores from the equation.

Out of nowhere, a speaker squeals on in the distance, a sharp electronic hum that breaks through the stillness of the woods.

I sit straight up.

At first it seems random. But then the sound clicks into place in my mind. Rainbow Valley Swim Club is nearby. It’s Thursday. Tomorrow is the last day of camp for the first group of kids. They’re setting up for the send-off dance.

I jump to my feet.

“What’s wrong?” Xander asks, looking up at me through wet eyes.

“Wait here,” I say.

“Where are you going?”

I walk away, searching for something sharp, like a rock or pointy stick. A triangular stone catches the sunlight. I lift it from a pile of brown leaves, the surface warm in my palm.

I quickly find a thick tree trunk and start hacking at the bark, using the stone to write a message.

A different kind of invitation.

“What are you doing?” Xander calls. I look over my shoulder and he’s standing now.

“Don’t look yet!” I shield my work with my body.

“I don’t think carving another random tree is going to help us.”

“Mic check, one two, one two.” A man’s voice echoes from the far-off speaker.

I keep carving. Sweat drips down my forehead and across the bridge of my nose. My shoulder burns. The rock slips in my sweaty grip, but I keep going.

Finally, I step back from the tree, dizzy, and read over the words to make sure everything is spelled correctly. My heart pounds against the inside of my chest. I drop the rock and grab Xander’s hand. His skin is cool and dry. Mine is hot and slick.

“Are you okay?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Come here.” I pull him forward, placing him in front of the tree. He steps in the wrong direction, and I twist his hips so what I wrote can’t be missed.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” he mumbles. “I’m usually the chaotic one.”

I smile. “Read it. Read the tree.”

He clears his throat. “Xander, will you go to the . . .” He stops.

I tilt my head. “What’s wrong? Keep going.”

His lips tremble. “. . . will you . . . will you,” he tries again, but he can’t finish the sentence.

“Is it too hard to read?” I ask, suddenly embarrassed. “I tried to make it special on the tree.”

His face crumbles. “I see what it says. But I can’t . . . I can’t.”

I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my chin on his shoulder. “Xander,” I whisper in his ear. “Will you go to the send-off dance with me?” I read the message for him.

His body shakes in my embrace. “Is this real?” he asks.