I swallowed hard and took a big breath, trying to slow my heartbeat. Kennedy took her hand away, picking up a glass of water on the nightstand. “Here.”

I chugged the whole thing, then set down the empty glass.

“Sorry for waking you up,” I said.

“Sorry about Colette.”

Kennedy flopped back onto her bed, and I rolled over and hugged Woogles, my childhood teddy bear. I spent most of the rest of the night wide awake listening to the noisy crickets—Frankie had been right about them—counting the nails in the logs on the wall, and thinking about the best friend I hadn’t been strong enough to save, even in a dream.

chapter 8

“We can trade partners if you want.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Izzy joked, making my cheeks turn pink.

It was Monday at camp, the second full week in July. Almost three full months without Colette. Time was just passing without her. Normal things were happening, and I didn’t get it.

Like Jackie was flirting with Izzy: normal. She’d tried to get his attention on his way over to my table by calling his name repeatedly with her hand up like she had the answer to an algebra problem. I felt sorry for her and vowed never to be that obvious about a crush.

Izzy and I had been assigned as partners, and Jackie had been paired with Jasmine. Even though I felt comfortable with Izzy, I would have been okay trading if it meant no more glares from Jackie.

“It seems like she likes you,” I said. “Maybe you want to . . .”

I didn’t know how to end that sentence.

“Are you trying to set me up?” He laughed, making me blush more. Izzy leaned in and said quietly, “I know she likes me. She makes me heart-shaped birthday cakes every year. It’s nice but totally embarrassing.” It was Izzy’s turn to redden. He tugged on his ear a couple times. “I get that she’s cute and everything, but she’s just kind of a know-it-all, you know? She has the best grades and is the best at art and is the best athlete, and she’s just . . .” He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in even more. “Jackie’s a Veruca.”

“A what?”

“Veruca Salt? Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?”

Colette had loved that book. She’d hated the movie.

“Oooooh,” I said. “That’s funny . . . and kinda mean.”

“You don’t know Jackie,” Izzy said, shrugging. “And before you think I’m a jerk, you should know that I’ve told her I’m not interested. Nicely. A lot.”