Read Online 3 Willows: The Sisterhood Grows by Ann Brashares - Free Book Online

hook once again. She picked at her food in silence.
    As he signaled for the check, she wondered if his patience was such a good thing after all. Maybe she was a jerk to act like she didn’t care, but he was a jerk to buy it.
    Ama didn’t like to sit too close to the campfire because of the sparks. She had an image of her rowdy heap of hair attracting a spark and setting her -whole head aflame in a matter of seconds. She shivered in her fleece. It would be better if she got closer, because she was freezing. But better freezing than aflame, she figured.
    She felt embarrassed and stupid that she hadn’t helped more with dinner, but she had an irrational fear of can openers. And because of that she hadn’t felt entitled to eat much. And because of that she was especially cold and also hungry.
    Dan appeared a few yards in front of her, brandishing his camera. He was clearly the trip photographer. “Okay, let’s get a campfire picture, group!” he called. “Crowd in a little and smile, would you?”
    Ama made a face. There was no way she was crowding in or smiling.
    “Say ‘cheese! Say ‘marshmallows’! Say ‘s’mores’!” Dan urged them.
    Ama glowered resentfully at the camera, unwilling to look happy or diverse, just as she had done the other times Dan had pointed it at them.
    She looked at Noah across the circle. He obliged Dan with a smile and went back to animatedly talking to bug-eyed Maureen. Noah looked really, really nice. Ama was sorry she’d been so puzzling and unfriendly to him for the duration of their -walk that afternoon.
    Jo always said Ama was mean to boys she didn’t like, and Ama guessed that was true. But she suspected she was even meaner to boys she did like.
    “I don’t like to make a big production about tent mates,” Jared was saying to the group as Ama tuned back in to the proceedings. “If the person seated to your right is the same sex as you are, that’s your tent mate. If not, look to your left. Otherwise, I’ll set you up. No coed tents, please.”
    Ama was far enough out of the circle that she wasn’t quite sitting next to anybody. By the time she crept forward, the girls closest to her -were paired up. It reminded her, depressingly, of the many kickball games when she stood waiting until the bitter end to get picked. She tended to do a lot better -when the picking -was for chemistry experiments or English projects.
    “Ama, who’s your tent mate?” Jared barked at her over the fire.
    Suddenly everyone was looking at her again.
    She swallowed. “No one,” she said.
    “Who still needs a partner?” he asked, looking around the group.
    One very tiny boy raised his hand. Ama figured he had to be at least fourteen to have qualified to come on the trip, but he looked more like seven.
    “Well, that’s not going to work,” Jared said. He counted off the group. “We’re missing two.” He calculated. “We’re missing Carly and …”
    “Jonathan,” one of the boys offered.
    “Right.” Jared looked at Ama. “So you’re with Carly. Andrew, you’re with Jonathan. Done.”
    Ama knew who Carly -was. She had the large breasts and the loud laugh, and was always getting gum from somewhere.
    As Ama wondered where Carly had gone, some singing started up, over by Maureen. If somebody pulls out a guitar and starts strumming it, I will die, Ama thought. She decided this was the moment to go pee. She headed off, tentatively, into the darkness. She wanted to get far enough to not be caught or heard peeing, but not far enough to be devoured by wild animals, her screams unanswered.
    “Oh!” She tripped over something. She staggered a few yards and came down hard.
    “Ow! God! Watch it!” a girl’s voice hissed at her.
    “Sorry,” Ama muttered, trying to get her bearings, trying to make her eyes see in the dark. “I didn’t realize …” Amas voice trailed off as she tried to stand up.
    As her eyes adjusted she saw that she’d plowed into not one person, but two. It was a