Hey, how's it going?? ❤️

I wake up to a text from Mina, the first in weeks. She threw in a heart emoji, which doesn't go with her usual dry texting style.

Rolling over in bed, I decide to reply.

Not too bad, how's your life been?

Omg you can't just not tell me how that camp's been

I have WAY too much to explain over text haha

Oh okay, I get that

Most of my days are spent playing tennis or hanging out with my mom tbh

You should tell her I say hi

I spend most my days exercising too (obviously lol)

I will!

I'm gonna tell your family you say hi too

Wait my family?

Are you at my house or something?

That wasn't a first.

Oh right, well your dad, Levi, and Poppy invited me to play doubles with them

I felt weird at first for accepting but your mom said I shouldn't

I pause and stare up at the ceiling blankly, realizing my friend, who my dad and sister barely know, was invited to go play with them before I ever was. I try to give Mina the benefit of the doubt, as she never passes up a chance to flex her amazing tennis abilities, but it still feels weird to me.

Ah I see, hope you have fun

I gotta go but talk to you later!

I place my feet on the floor and make my bed. Fluffing my sheets with a little more force and pulling them taut across the mattress, I feel something pointy hit the top of my foot. I crouch down and pick up a folded piece of paper, and this time, it's not a clothing tag.

"You've got to be kidding me." I haphazardly fold open the paper and tear off a corner in the process, but the words still read loud and clear.

Guess the little slut found another man. – X

Another man?

If you can direct me to him, that would be great, I think, since Axel still seems to be hanging on to his last thread of professionalism.

As I read the words over and over, I try not to let four years of torturous English literature go to waste, realizing if "another man" implies there must be a first man, then X could be code for ex—as in, ex-boyfriend.

Martina interrupts my train of thought.

"Hey, Whitney, are you sure you want to miss breakfast?"

I shove the note into my pajama shorts pocket and whirl around. "No, I'll be there in a sec. Just gotta change." She pauses for a second longer than usual as I grab the hemline of my T-shirt before hurrying out of our room.

At breakfast, I take a seat next to Martina at a small table in the corner, but I notice Aspen is sitting with us today. She looks up and gives me a diffident smile, a dimple forming in her right cheek.

"Hey," I tell them both and take a sip of my mixed-berry smoothie. Not too shabby for this camp's usual culinary standards. "We haven't really gotten to know each other well."

Aspen pushes a brown ringlet away from her face. "Oh yeah, I wasn't sure how to introduce myself. It seems like Bob and Cindy formed these teams so we could make new friends, but it's not really working." We all look around and realize the same cliques from the first day still apply, seated at the tables as if places were assigned.

"Natalie confuses me," I say, angling my head towards her, where she sits in the middle of Adriana and Joanna. Willow is nowhere in sight. "She was nice the first couple days, and now she won't even look me in the eyes."

"I went to school with her," Aspen says, swirling her spoon in her bowl. "She's pretty sweet and innocent, but she hasn't talked to me either, which is kinda odd."

Martina leans over the middle of the table, plonking her glass of water on the table like a gavel. "Those kinds of people, my friends, are called fake bitches. Let's not give them the time of day."

Laughter spreads across the table, earning a few dirty looks from Adriana and company.

"Can you guys excuse me for a minute?"

I get up to use the bathroom, remembering it was somewhere down the hall. When I open the door, I'm relieved to find no one in there and take a moment to adjust my tousled hair in the polished mirror—until I hear a flush and the creak of a stall door opening.

Willow steps out and ducks her head down as she heads to the sink. I continue piling my hair into a ponytail and smoothing out the bumps with my fingertips, watching her wash her hands in my peripheral vision. She lets the water run over the soapy foam for at least a minute, arms frozen in place.

"Whitney," she says, pulling her hands away from the sink. The sensors detect the lack of movement and shut the water off at last. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

My eyes narrow. "You didn't have a whole four years for that?"

She bites the inside of her cheek, crumpling the wet paper towel in her hand. "I know, but that's why I'm asking for just a minute of your time now."

"No, wait a moment," I say, holding up a hand, "why are you here? What are the odds we would both apply to the same camp during the same summer?"

"It wasn't chance," she admits and throws the paper towel in the trash. It misses. "My mom forced me to go out to brunch with Mina and her mom last month, and your friend mentioned your summer plans. So, basically, I got inspired."

I knit my brows together, perplexed. "So, let me get this straight. Since Mina said I was coming here, you decided it would be a great idea if you did, too? Just to talk to me with no interference right now?"

Is this girl being serious?

She shakes her head, her straight hair swinging from side to side. "No, it's not like that. I came here because I figured it would be the last time that we'd be in the same place together before heading off to college. And I hoped... I hoped at one point during this experience, you'd let me apologize to you."

I freeze.

On the one hand, her apology would be more elaborate than any sorry she could have given me at school, given that she's enduring these five agonizing weeks with me.

On the other hand, I had more than enough time during the last four years to memorize her type: the kind that takes out all her anger and frustration on other people, destroying their self-esteem and dignity with no sense of her own iniquity, before eventually justifying her past actions with some personal sob story: a bad home life, a debilitating illness, the plague of immaturity.

And when her burdened conscience is revived with that meaningless five-letter word, everyone else is still left with an open wound of bitter resentment, only widened by the guilt of refusing to accept that stupid fucking sorry.

"Alright, well, have fun with that one," I scoff and make sure the door bangs shut behind me.

***

"Good afternoon, all you half-asleep young ladies!" Cindy calls, clapping her hands together. "Today's challenge will surely wake you all up. Walk ahead, and you'll see an obstacle course, where you can, and probably will, get messy!"

Please don't let it be mud. Please don't let it be mud. Please don't let it—

"That's right, I'm talking about mud." She reads my mind, a bright smile appearing on her face.

Cold silence replaces the buzzing chatter.

"Mud?" Adriana repeats. Her lips part in disgust. "We're not boys. That's revolting."

"Yeah, like, I don't wanna be that person, but is there any way I can change my shoes?" Joanna sticks her leg up, letting us see her white Nikes in mint condition. "I just got these babies."

"Sorry, girls, but we have to get things going," Cindy says and moves to the left. "Today I have Axel with me to help out with this challenge. He'll explain how this all works."

He trudges up the grass, dressed in all black, fit for a funeral—but for my morale, instead. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to focus on not faceplanting into sticky mud with his eyes dead set on mine.

He smirks, as if reading my apprehensive mind.

"The first portion of this obstacle course involves a basic sprint down a narrow path. This will lead you to a set of monkey bars, through a series of tires, a balance beam over a mass of dirt, and lastly, a rope swing over a pool of mud." He takes a couple steps forward, his arms clasped behind his back. "The course is doubled, so each of you will compete against someone else."

Adriana, as always, has to ask a question. "Is there a reward waiting for us like last time?"

He glances between my reserved stance and her cocky expression. "You know, you seem like you have an ego that just a win would satisfy. But if you have any ideas for a prize, go right ahead. I'll wait."

Finding fifteen waiting pairs of eyes, Adriana titters nervously. "Oh no, um, I'm good. Thanks."

"Alright then, do I have two volunteers, or should I choose?" He glances at Cindy. She gives him the go-ahead, and he waits a couple of seconds for any desperate hands to shoot up in the air. No one. "Okay, I'll just go ahead. How about...you, with the blonde hair." He points to none other than Willow, who glances up, bewildered. "And how about...you."

I look around to find who he gestured to, wondering why the girls on my left and right give me a little space. Then it hits; he means me.

The enmity between us has never been obvious to Axel, making me wonder what prompted him to pair us together. Either way, I drag my body to the beginning of the course, refusing to make eye contact with him or her.

"Alright, the course starts in three, two, one—go!"

My competitor no longer matters to me as a burst of energy sends me breezing through the first part of the course, a simple sprint down a dirt path. I catch my breath and then jump up to the first monkey bar. I hold in a laugh as I struggle to latch onto the next one, feeling like I'm in elementary school again. Willow is at my heels, but she finds the wooden bars equally onerous. We finish at the same time and take a few seconds to soothe our aching hands.

The next obstacle seems right up a football player's alley, but too bad I only watch the Super Bowl every year. I groan at the burn in my thighs as I navigate my way in and out of each tire. My foot gets caught on the second to last one, but I catch myself before kissing the ground.

By the third obstacle, this course is seeming too easy, or so I think, until I get a good look at the long piece of wood, appearing more like a twig than a beam. One wrong step, and I'll be a goner. I glance at Willow, who doesn't look nearly as fazed, probably confident in her balance from years of dancing. She holds her arms out and places one foot on the wood and then the other.

I take a different approach and crawl up onto the beam, using my hands for support. When I feel stable enough, I extend my body and take the first few baby steps, my arms fanned out on either side of my hips. I swallow and continue down the unnerving beam, noticing how much farther ahead Willow is than me.

Mistakenly feeling confident, I increase my speed and zoom across the second half of the beam. On the last step, my strategy fails, and the edge of my shoe drags down the side of the beam. I lose my balance and slam my shin against the hard wood, the force sending me to my back on the dirt.

Tears prick my eyes as I try to drag myself to my feet, either from the pain surging down my leg or my utter embarrassment. When Willow notices my plight, she turns around and runs towards me.

"Whitney, are you okay?" She grabs my arm and helps pull me up, her eyes growing wide with concern. "Oh my god, I didn't even notice you fall."

"You should just finish the course," I grumble, rubbing my right leg. "I'll be fine."

"Do you think I really care about a dumb little prize? Here, let's walk to the end together."

I can't refuse her help, unable to bear much weight on my leg, now that I notice blood trickling out of the wood chip sticking out of my knee.

As she leads the way, I whisper a small thank you and for once leave my ego in the dirt behind me, right where it belongs.