Page 22 of Big & Lily

The teen looks down at his scrambled eggs. I can’t tell if he’s disappointed or relieved.

“Speaking of policies. Most of you who’ve done this before know what to keep an eye out for to stay safe, but it’s best practice to stick together. No wandering off.”

He looks directly at Lily and me. Could be my sister’s outfit that is labeling us as newbies—a formfitting emerald-green tracksuit, the jacket zipped low enough to show a color-coordinated striped T-shirt, and a matching baseball cap. Her hiking boots are pristine, having never been out of the box until the day we packed for the trip. Had I not been cursed by the Witch of Lost Luggage, I would have been similarly dressed. Moveable, breathable, comfortable. I don’t see the problem, although, based on the rest of the group’s attire, I guess it’s not de rigueur for marching through the woods.

After everyone goes back to their cabins to pack up, and Jace tops off my coffee as he and Heidi clear the table, Brick sits on the bench next to me.

“I’m sorry, I just remembered you wanted to talk to me last night. My bad. First night is always a little chaotic. Is there something you need?”

“No, it’s all sorted, Brick. Thank you.”

I had wanted to go home so badly I was willing to climb back into that tiny plane again before my stomach had even settled. I was so sure I’d made a mistake coming. Or should I say, letting Lily talk me into her harebrained scheme. Yesterday it looked like my sister was going to be fine on her own—throwing concerns and caution to the wind, all-in on this ends-of-the-earth adventure, making new friends, needing me here as much as a teenage boy needs his mother at a school dance. Or so I thought.

But it’s all an act. Lily wants to create another persona forherself here, that’s her choice. She wants to pretend she’s single and carefree and up and down mountains all her life and to go all Reese Witherspoon inWild. Fine by me. Last night, I found out the truth. Lily needs an ear, a shoulder, someone who knows her. She needs her big sister.

So, I’m staying. Hand-me-down clothing and all. God help me.

Chapter Eleven

We are standing at what Brick calls the trailhead. There is a large wood-framed bulletin board with a map, a long list of trail rules, and a very upsetting graphic on bear encounters. The backpack he gave me is already uncomfortable, loaded down with a full water bottle, a spare raincoat with a mildewy smell—also from the lost and found box—a Kansas City Royals baseball cap lent to me by Xavier at his father’s insistence, bug netting, and something called microspikes that will fit over my boots if we come across ice. (In June?) We were also all handed bear spray, which looks like a mini fire extinguisher, the lunch Heidi packed for each of us, and something horrifyingly called a sachet packet—a wad of toilet paper, a mini bottle of hand sanitizer, and a note that says,leave nothing but footprints, in a sandwich baggie.

“What the hell are we supposed to do with this?” I’d asked Lily, who was turning the bag over in her hand trying to work it out herself.

“It’s a ‘bear shits in the woods’ scenario.” Dane laughed.

“Oh, no. Nope, no thank you. I draw the line there.”

Lily scoffed. “You going to hold it in all day?”

“I once waited outside Macy’s at four a.m. for a Black Friday sale. I can hold it.”

“I remember, Big. I was with you. And you weren’t exactly pleasant about it.”

“I’ll be fine. If you want to squat in the woods, that’s up to you.”

Lily laughed. “Prude.”

Now, as Brick gives us one more briefing about how not to approach wildlife—this time looking at Xavier instead of me—I will myself not to think about indoor plumbing.

“No petting the giant brown cows, got it?” Brick says. Jace gives a little snort, and Brick looks over at him, smiling. “He’s heard that joke a thousand times by now. I might need some new material.”

Jace holds up his hands in protest. “No, no. It needs to be said. You’d be surprised how many people want a selfie with a mama moose and her calf. That has ended very badly for some.” He raises his eyebrows. “Flattened.”

Xavier’s eyes widen. “Really?”

Volcanos. Pistols. Smushed tourists. Finally, this trip has something for a teenage boy.

“All right, all right. Let’s go, folks.” Brick doesn’t let Jace elaborate, but as we start off Xavier sidles up to him, clearly digging for more of that story.

The trail is a wide, flat dirt path. Bright-green leaves from the branches above make a canopy over our heads and let a dappled light dance on the ground. I breathe in the earthy smells—moss, damp dirt, old bark. It’s not that different from the park paths in our town. I amble along, using the walking sticks Brick gave me, although I don’t need them. So far, this is a piece of cake.

Unsurprisingly, Lily ditches me for Dane and Ian. I don’t even care. This is something I don’t get a lot of at home with my to-do lists and my mother’s needs and my repopulated nest. A moment’s peace. This isn’t so bad. Maybe I was making much ado about—

Then I feel the first bite.

Before I can smack at whatever it is, Luna hits herself on the forehead. Ian swings his arms in front of his face. Dane does a weird duck-and-cover movement with his head. Jace laughs. “Mozzies are here!”

I hate mosquitos. And they love me. Every humid summer day in New Jersey—which is practically every summer day—they bleed me dry. “You’re too sweet,” my dad used to say when I was young, back in the before days.