in August and making me want to pee more than I ever have in my
life.
I look down again at Xander, who appears
to be asleep. Despite the sunburn, his face is beautiful and perfectly
symmetric. I’m glad he doesn’t catch me staring.
Dusk is settled on us now, and
little flies circle over and around the fire, their gossamer wings catching the
last of the sunlight. I wander over toward the stream and go behind a tree,
keeping one eye on Xander the whole time. He perks up as I’m almost done.
Great.
“Jackie?” he says, sitting up on
his elbows. I pull my pants up as quickly as I can, totally pink-faced.
“Uh, yeah?” I croak.
“The chicken’s burning!” he yelps.
“Well, take it off then! But don’t
you dare eat it,” I add sternly. I guess I’m not done messing with him yet.
“Fine. What the hell are you
doing?” he says.
“Uh… I’m getting water,” I holler.
“Oh. Jackie?”
“What,” I say, as I’m dipping my
hands into the water for a rinse. God, what I would give for some soap right
now.
“Can I eat some when you’re
ready?”
I don’t say anything for a second.
Let him sweat it out. I still remember the nasty chipmunk he stashed in my bag
at Astor. It’s his time to pay.
I look over at him and stare into
his eyes. They look devoid of emotion, completely worn-out. The need for
retaliation suddenly seems unimportant. We are the only two souls standing
here, after all. I offer him an olive branch. “Will you stop singing
appallingly bad songs?”
“Yes,” he says, a little too
quickly.
“Forever?”
“Long as I’m with you, yes.”
It’s quiet for a second. I’m
scooping up brook water into the copper pot Deb gave me to set on the fire to
boil. We need drinking water we can trust. As easy as Deb said it is to die
from a bout of extreme diarrhea, I’m pretty sure it’s easier to die from the
embarrassment of having it around a guy.
“Okay. You can eat. But not until
I get back.”
“ Done ,” he says, shaking
his fists in the air. The boys in Portland were always saying that when
something crazy happened. Second base with the prom queen while her linebacker
boyfriend was home sick? “ Done .” Won a grand from the Oregon State
Lotto? “ Done .” It’s pretty much the most over-used expression ever,
except for maybe “cool,” which has been around since my grandmother was my age.
I put some river water in my
copper pan and walk back toward the fire. Xander’s just sitting there, staring
at the chicken. He looks weak, and there’s a pale, bluish tint to his skin.
I put the pot of water into the
fire to get it boiling. When I do, the flames crackle and sizzle, and little
sparks shoot up and pop in the darkening air.
“ God ,” Xander snaps. “Can
we eat already? You’re driving me insane.”
I flinch. “What? I’m driving you insane?”
“Yes!” he shouts.
I instantly regret my generosity.
I close my eyes and take a breath so I don’t I punch him in the face, take the
chicken, and run. It’s the hunger .
Nobody’s this much of a douche in real life.
“You know, you wouldn’t be eating
anything but an occasional cockroach if I didn’t come along and
save your ass,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even, “and I don’t owe you shit. Eat a rotting fucking chipmunk. You’re good at finding those, right?”
Xander opens his mouth and tilts
his head like he’s gonna spew some kind of apology, but I don’t want to hear it.
I interrupt him.
“Fine. I’m going to give you some
of this bird, but if you’re not nice to me after I do, I swear on your mom ,
I will leave you in the dust.”
“What?” he says, his voice hard
and surprisingly cold. He sounds like he’s genuinely pissed.
“You. Heard. Me,” I say, my voice
clipped. Although part of me is scared he’ll run off and leave me here
stranded. He’s a god-awful person, but I really don’t want to be alone. I would
never admit it to him, but I’m beyond relieved he’s
life.
I look down again at Xander, who appears
to be asleep. Despite the sunburn, his face is beautiful and perfectly
symmetric. I’m glad he doesn’t catch me staring.
Dusk is settled on us now, and
little flies circle over and around the fire, their gossamer wings catching the
last of the sunlight. I wander over toward the stream and go behind a tree,
keeping one eye on Xander the whole time. He perks up as I’m almost done.
Great.
“Jackie?” he says, sitting up on
his elbows. I pull my pants up as quickly as I can, totally pink-faced.
“Uh, yeah?” I croak.
“The chicken’s burning!” he yelps.
“Well, take it off then! But don’t
you dare eat it,” I add sternly. I guess I’m not done messing with him yet.
“Fine. What the hell are you
doing?” he says.
“Uh… I’m getting water,” I holler.
“Oh. Jackie?”
“What,” I say, as I’m dipping my
hands into the water for a rinse. God, what I would give for some soap right
now.
“Can I eat some when you’re
ready?”
I don’t say anything for a second.
Let him sweat it out. I still remember the nasty chipmunk he stashed in my bag
at Astor. It’s his time to pay.
I look over at him and stare into
his eyes. They look devoid of emotion, completely worn-out. The need for
retaliation suddenly seems unimportant. We are the only two souls standing
here, after all. I offer him an olive branch. “Will you stop singing
appallingly bad songs?”
“Yes,” he says, a little too
quickly.
“Forever?”
“Long as I’m with you, yes.”
It’s quiet for a second. I’m
scooping up brook water into the copper pot Deb gave me to set on the fire to
boil. We need drinking water we can trust. As easy as Deb said it is to die
from a bout of extreme diarrhea, I’m pretty sure it’s easier to die from the
embarrassment of having it around a guy.
“Okay. You can eat. But not until
I get back.”
“ Done ,” he says, shaking
his fists in the air. The boys in Portland were always saying that when
something crazy happened. Second base with the prom queen while her linebacker
boyfriend was home sick? “ Done .” Won a grand from the Oregon State
Lotto? “ Done .” It’s pretty much the most over-used expression ever,
except for maybe “cool,” which has been around since my grandmother was my age.
I put some river water in my
copper pan and walk back toward the fire. Xander’s just sitting there, staring
at the chicken. He looks weak, and there’s a pale, bluish tint to his skin.
I put the pot of water into the
fire to get it boiling. When I do, the flames crackle and sizzle, and little
sparks shoot up and pop in the darkening air.
“ God ,” Xander snaps. “Can
we eat already? You’re driving me insane.”
I flinch. “What? I’m driving you insane?”
“Yes!” he shouts.
I instantly regret my generosity.
I close my eyes and take a breath so I don’t I punch him in the face, take the
chicken, and run. It’s the hunger .
Nobody’s this much of a douche in real life.
“You know, you wouldn’t be eating
anything but an occasional cockroach if I didn’t come along and
save your ass,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even, “and I don’t owe you shit. Eat a rotting fucking chipmunk. You’re good at finding those, right?”
Xander opens his mouth and tilts
his head like he’s gonna spew some kind of apology, but I don’t want to hear it.
I interrupt him.
“Fine. I’m going to give you some
of this bird, but if you’re not nice to me after I do, I swear on your mom ,
I will leave you in the dust.”
“What?” he says, his voice hard
and surprisingly cold. He sounds like he’s genuinely pissed.
“You. Heard. Me,” I say, my voice
clipped. Although part of me is scared he’ll run off and leave me here
stranded. He’s a god-awful person, but I really don’t want to be alone. I would
never admit it to him, but I’m beyond relieved he’s
Similar Books
