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It takes me a couple of seconds to realize I’m standing directly in front of the door, blocking it. Or, maybeflapis a better word for the way we get in and out of our new, temporary dwelling place.
I step aside and cast a last look over my shoulder toward the scrubby, short trees.
No goat.
Cole brushes past me.
Before he can slip inside, I reach for his arm.
“Thanks.” The word tumbles out before I can hold it in.
Because I really do feel grateful.
He stood in front of me without budging, when I thought a fanged beast was booking it our way. He’s cool with sleeping on the floor, and he’s hauling in wood, and even though he doesn't want to be here, he’s here.
“For what?”
“For doing this with me. For helping Trent. For putting up with whatever dance thing we’re going to have to do in a few minutes.”
He nods. “Yeah, well… If that lady asks me to dance like I’m an eagle or something, she’s going to see my disagreeable side alright.”
Chapter 8
Cole
I survived.
I survived a salad made from spinach and quinoa and raisins. I survived the big slab of cabbage on my plate, which that lady Skye called a “cabbage steak.” I survived a chocolate cream pie that was made from avocados.
Actually, the pie wasn’tthatbad.
When I closed my eyes and took a bite, it actually tasted decent.
Not good.
Nowhere close to good.
Decent.
I bet Danielle baked it. It’s pretty cool that she knows how to make avocados taste like chocolate pudding. I’d have eaten another slice of it if I hadn't been dragged up out of my seat by Olivia and herded to the circle of pillows on the pavilion floor.
Yes,floor.
I survived sitting on the floor cross-legged—man, my knees hated that—for an hour like I was a kindergartener. I listened toSkye talk about the great leap we would all take together over the coming days.
And then, after all that glorious fun, she put on weird flute music and instructed us to dance. That was worse than the cabbage steak.
At least I was able to catch Trent’s eye a few times and see he felt as out of place as I did. When you’re in the trenches, it’s good to have a friend in there with you.
Maybe we’ll laugh about this one day.
For now, I just have to get through it.
Right now, the woodstove’s stocked, torture’s over for the day, and Olivia’s being mercifully quiet over on her bed.
The blankets I piled under my sleeping bag give me enough padding so that if I lie on my back, I sort of forget how hard the floor is.
I try shifting to my side, so I’m facing away from the lantern over by the big, very soft-looking bed that Olivia’s reading on.
