“We’re gonna be in the van for another twenty minutes,” Jenna observes. “Maybe we should play something fun to pass the time.” Her gaze flickers over to me, but before I can decipher it, she’s moved on. “I haven’t played a good game of Truth or Dare in forever.”

My immediate reaction is to roll my eyes—these games are always really boring when you don’t actually have secrets. But then I remember that not only do I have a secret, but it’s one I have an extremely vested interest in keeping from someone in this van.

And I may be a great bluffer, but I am a horrific liar.

I dig my nails into the underside of Salem’s thigh, and when he turns to me to snap, I widen my eyes in pleading. He furrows his brow, as if he doesn’t understand what I’m asking, but then gives a dramatic shudder and says, “If I’m so much as in the same room as Truth or Dare, I start to taste truly bad tequila and smell burnt cotton. And before you ask, Never Have I Ever both tastes and smells like the worst weed I have ever had.”

As everyone laughs and changes the subject to talking about bad party memories and substance experiences, I could kiss Salem in gratitude. Well, give him a hearty handshake is more like it. But as soon as I catch his attention, I mouth a Thank you, and receive a brief smile in return.

The ride is over before we know it, and we pile out and receive our instructions, complete with reflector vests that make us look like convicts doing trash pickup on the side of the road. Which is to say, I feel a little badass and I don’t hate it.

What I do hate is how much garbage people leave among the trees. I pick up water bottles, soda cans, single socks, empty bags of chips, gum wrappers, and deflated beach balls, but I am absolutely not prepared for the next piece of trash I see. I glance at the volunteer next to me, who happens to be Matt. “Matthew, please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

He follows my eyeline and bursts into laughter. “I swear, dormie, that’s not mine. I’m, like, ninety-five percent sure.”

“Why does Skeevy look like she’s about to puke?” Salem asks, walking over from where I can only assume he’s been hiding out with Jenna; I haven’t seen him in at least fifteen minutes. “What’d you do, Matt?”

“I did not do anything,” he says, pointing at the used condom. “Perhaps that’s from one of your woodsy adventures?”