Page 46 of Mirror Image

“You done already?” Sam asked, looking at my half-eaten meal. “You know it’s going to be all camping food in another couple of days, right? You should get the good stuff while you still can.”

I looked at her pointedly. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

I was reading in the upper bunk of our tiny room when my sister returned a couple hours later, reeking of weed and cheap beer.

“You smell like a frat house,” I muttered as she flopped onto the bed below mine, unlacing her sneakers.

“Jesus fucking Christ—what is your problem?” she shot back, popping up again so she could glare at me eye to eye.

“I’d prefer you didn’t say that.”

Sam snorted and put her hands on her hips. “Why? Since when are you suddenly Holy Mary of the North Dorm? You don’t exactly light candles and chant novenas.”

“You have no idea whether I pray,” I said stiffly. “And my faith is none of your business.”

“Right. Just like what I do in my off-hours isn’t yours.” She wasn’t shouting—just exasperated, sharp around the edges. “For real, Mare, if you’re gonna be wound this tight for two months with no decent coffee or internet, we’re both gonna die out there.”

“Would you prefer I didn’t go?” I asked, a little sulky, a little hurt.

She rolled her eyes—big dramatic circles—but her voice gentled. “Relax. I’m just saying you need to breathe. This whole thing is supposed to be life changing. Maybe we try . . . changing our lives?”

“Oh, I think we’ve done plenty of that already.”

She huffed, threw her hands up. “Okay, I’m going to bed before we accidentally kill each other on night one. Breakfast is stupid early, and I want the last hot shower I’ll get until, like, August.”

I sighed. “Yeah. The hot water and the coffee will be brutal. And losing our phones . . .”

She perked up suddenly. “Speaking of phones—remember that girl we talked to at dinner?”

“You mean the one you were telling our life story to?”

She waved that off. “Naomi. Would you believe she’s some kind of giant influencer?”

I sat up on my elbows. “What, like social media? Which platform?”

“All. Of. Them. She’s got, like, a hundred thousand followers.”

“Wow. But she can’t bring her phone with her, right? How’s she going to post anything?”

“They’re giving her an exception. She’s not paying for the program at all—she’s basically the wilderness mascot in exchange for content.”

“But Rick said only satellite phones work out there.”

“They’ll have some system,” she said, shrugging. “She’ll record, the guide uploads later, her assistant schedules everything. She won’t talk to anyone in real time.”

“Huh. Well, good luck to the team that gets her. I’d hate someone filming me all the time and blasting it all over the internet.”

A sheepish smile crept across Sam’s face.

“Yeah . . . so . . . about that.”

I sat fully upright. “Don’t tell me.”

“Yup.”

“No! How? We’re not supposed to get assignments until tomorrow.”

She wiggled her brows. “I have my ways.”