“What, this is so stupid, Marek.” She holds her arms out to her sides and spins. “We’re teenagers, running around the woods playing a game, for what? Bragging rights?”
“Does everything you do need to have a purpose?” I finish buckling my belt and pull on my shoes. “Sometimes it’s nice not to think too hard.”
“I don’t have the privilege.” She shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Growing up, my parents demanded perfection from me.”
I follow her as she navigates through the woods. I pull out our list and hand it to her. “Pick one. There are no expectations for you out here. Be free.”
She inspects the list like it’s the most important thing on this planet right now. Typical Palmer. Everything is approached with intensity and determination.
“Okay, number three.” She hands the paper back to me.
I read it and smile. “Really?”
“What, you don’t think I can do it?” She offers me a smug grin, pulling her hair into a ponytail.
“I never imagined you being the kind of kid that did this, but let’s see what you got, Weston.” I stand at the base of the tree, my phone ready to snap her photo.
With little effort, she grabs a branch and swings her leg over it, then pulls herself up like a gymnast, continuing the graceful climb until she’s perched on a high limb. She presses her foot on it to check its stability, gripping tightly to the one above her. At the bottom, I ready myself to catch her falling body.
“Will you take the photo? You want to win, right?” She’s suspended in air for a moment, a gleeful, proud smile on her face.
“It will all have been worth it to see you do that.” I focus the camera and snap the photo. “Now, climb down before you break your neck.”
“Marek Hawthorne, are you worried about me?” She bounces on the branch, rattling the leaves. I jolt from her movement. She must see my grimace because she starts to climb down. “Calm down, I’m safe, back on the ground.”
The rest of the scavenger hunt flies by. We have no run-ins. Everyone has managed to stick to their own corner of the woods.
After we’ve completed our tasks, we head in the direction of the house, knowing our time is running out. These woods have given me a gift I hadn’t realized I’d needed. The dark surroundings have stolen Palmer’s hatred and distrust, allowing me in for a bit. For a split second, it feels like we’re friends. That is stolen quickly when I realize where we are.
“Let’s go back this way,” I say, trying to lead Palmer away from this area.
She doesn’t listen, of course. Fuck. This forest holds some of my biggest secrets.
“What is this?” Palmer points to the tree beside her.
“Lovers’ tree,” I whisper. Hello secrets, meet her sister.
The initials R.W. and M.H. are like a siren blaring in my ear. Memories flood my mind, times of happiness and destruction. That’s what Reed had been for me. Her relationship with the four of us had been complicated, but only in the sense that none of us had ever quite known where we stood with her. She had been rocky seas, and we’d tried our best to navigate her.
“But your initials are with Reed’s. Why?” Palmer retreats, putting more distance between us. “I thought she and Byron were the real thing, and the rest of you were just . . .”
“Just what, Palmer? What do you think we were?” I brush my hand down my face, frustrated. Never once did the possibility of us colliding with my past out here cross my mind.
“Were you all in love with her?” Palmer shifts from side to side like she’s trying to find the answer somewhere on my body.
“It went beyond that,” I admit.
“Then why are your initials with my sister’s?”
It’s a valid question. A hidden secret of our past. Something no one knows, and I had intended on keeping it that way. If the guys ever found out, they’d never trust me again. I’d broken the rules, the guidelines we’d set to insure not one of us would end up hurt.
“Let’s go back to the house.” I grab for her hand, trying to pull her towards me. “I’ll explain everything. It’s not what you think it is.”
“Don’t gaslight me, Marek.” She shoves off me. “I’m not one of these idiot girls who takes your word as gospel.”
Before I can stop her, she’s racing away from me.
“Fuck!” I yell, trying to follow the same path she’s taken. The white of her Converses may be soiled with the dirt from our hike, but they shine like a beacon in the darkness.
We run for quite a while until she disappears into thin air. Where did you go? As I pass two large oak trees, something forces me backwards, knocking the wind out of my chest. My back and head hit the hard surface of bark, and stars prickle behind my lids.
I open my eyes to Palmer in front of me, a silver blade hovering at my throat. This girl has some nerve. I don’t fight her, allowing her to believe she has some sort of power in this situation.
“You want to know the truth, the truth only Reed and I knew?” I say, easing my hand over her arm and onto her wrist to hopefully control her movement a bit. “Once I tell you, there’s no going back.”
“Why are your initials in the tree next to my sister’s?” She presses forward, and the cool blade hits my skin.
I grip her wrist, pinching her skin, and force her to loosen her hold. With her distracted by the pain, I twist her body around, pinning her arm behind her back. She drops the knife on the ground, and I lunge and grab it, placing it against her neck.
“What was the plan, Palmer?” I pull her arm further, feeling the stress I’m putting on it. “How did you see this playing out?”
“Go to hell.” She attempts to step on my foot. A nice self-defense tactic, but I’m stronger than her, pressing her chest deeper into the tree.
“Don’t you see, Palmer. We’re already there.”
“Please don’t hurt me.”
“Do you honestly believe the world would care about another dead, rich girl?” I ghost the knife along her neck. “Don’t push me, Palmer. I may not have killed your sister, contrary to what that pretty little head of yours is trying to convince you, but a man can only be pushed so far.”
“It seems to me you’re hell bent on keeping this little secret, but why?” She shakes her head. “Tell me why, and we’ll forget this little run-in ever happened.”
“I can’t tell you because you aren’t the first person who deserves to know.” I shut the pocketknife and press the cold metal into her open palm.
“Byron?” She covers her neck, putting the pieces together too late.
I push past her. “They deserve to hear it from me first.”
A horn screams in the distance, alerting the players the games are finished.
“Game’s over, Palmer.”
******
Back at the house, everyone who’s participated hands over their evidence. For the first time in four years, no one has been caught by anyone, and every task has been completed.
“I’m prepared for this rare occasion,” Mackenzie announces, holding a silver bowl in front of her. Small folded pieces of paper cover the bottom. Everyone is anxious, knowing damn well what this is. It’s Glass Heart Academy students’ dirty little secret, the part of the night no one talks about.