Page 17 of Hide And Seek

It took me a few minutes to notice Willa Bamford.

She was at the back of the group, just far enough behind the main cluster to be technically separate from it without being obvious. Moving at the right pace, looking in the right directions, doing everything that constituted participation without actually participating in any of it. Her hands were in the front pocket of her hoodie despite the warmth of the day, shoulders slightly drawn in.

I slowed my pace until I'd drifted back alongside her, keeping enough distance that it didn't feel like an approach. She didn't acknowledge me, but she didn't move away either.

Up ahead, the navigator boys had found the next blaze and announced it with significant drama. The group surged forward, the energy ratcheting up another notch, and the gap between them and Willa widened by a few more feet.

“It’s Willa, right?” I asked, glancing over at her.

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

I pressed on. “Have you spotted anything interesting so far?”

She gave me a forlorn shrug. “Not really.”

“I saw some really nice wildflowers earlier,” I said. “I think they were wood sorrels. White and pink.”

“Cool,” she said in a listless tone.

I tilted my head. “Are you doing okay?”

She looked at me sideways. “I'm fine,” she said in a tone that closed the door firmly with no room for negotiation.

“Okay,” I said.

I left it there, and we kept walking. Up ahead, the navigator boys were in a heated disagreement about where the first treasure was, and Caitlin and Rhys were attempting to mediate. The rest of the kids chattered and spread out along the trailwhile Willa and I drifted at the back, the silence between us neither comfortable nor uncomfortable yet.

I didn't try to fill it.

About ten minutes in, the trail curved left around a large boulder and then opened briefly into a small clearing before narrowing again into the pines. On the right side of the path was a massive old pine with bark so deeply furrowed it almost looked fake.

Willa slowed, her eyes moving to the tree, and she reached out and let her fingers drag briefly across the bark. Then she pulled her hand back and kept walking, eyes forward again.

I said nothing for another thirty seconds or so.

“You've been coming here a long time?” I finally asked, keeping my tone casual.

“Since I was nine,” she said.

I nodded. Another minute passed, and the sounds of the group filtered back through the trees; laughter, footsteps, someone reading a clue with great theatrical emphasis.

“My best friend died here last year,” Willa suddenly said. “Carly.”

She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at the path ahead, her voice soft but matter-of-fact. Like she'd found that if she said it plainly and quickly, she could get it out easier.

“I heard about that,” I said. “I'm really sorry. It must be very hard for you.”

She nodded. “I didn't even want to come back this year.”

“I can't blame you for that.”

She glanced at me then, and whatever she found in my expression seemed to satisfy some internal requirement, because the next thing she said was substantially longer than anything else she’d volunteered so far.

“My parents made me come. All their friends send their kids here too, so they thought it would look weird if I stoppedcoming,” she said. “They didn’t even ask me. Just told me. And then they made me feel bad about how they might look to all their friends if I said no.”

I nodded slowly. “Some people care a little too much about the way other people see them, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Maeve, Iris, and Cosima’s parents are exactly the same. They made them come back too.”