Deep Betrayal

So now there was no one for me to talk to.
    Over the din of other conversations, I heard Serious Boy ask Jack, “Did she come with you?” He tipped his head in my direction. Jack looked up from the fire and met my eyes.
    “Yeah. Guess so.”
    “Do you think that’s smart?” Serious Boy asked.
    “Probably not,” Jack said, smirking, “but I don’t think people expect that much from me anymore.” He jabbed at the coals, sending a shower of sparks into the air.
    I pretended not to be able to hear. They didn’t seem to think I could. Was this another mermaid stat to add to my list? Was my hearing really keener than before?
    I yawned and removed a poncho from my bag, pullingit over my head. It was a nonchalant thing to do; hopefully, they wouldn’t realize I was paying such close attention to their conversation.
    “Yeah, we’ve heard about that,” said Serious Boy, and Jack looked at him sharply to see if he was picking a fight. “Hey, no worries, man. We believe you.”
    Jack and I both waited for the punch line, but it didn’t come. My heart pounded furiously in my chest. Calder had said it would only take one to believe Jack.
    “No one else will, though,” Serious Boy said, passing a bag of chips that was making its way around the circle.
    “I’ll just have to try harder,” Jack said. He sounded confident, but across the circle I could see Jack’s sad eyes glistening in the firelight.
    After that, they had nothing more to say to each other, and I grew impatient with the other conversations around the campfire.
    A golden retriever lay under one guy’s chair. Now and then the dog lifted her head and sniffed the air, piquing her ears. Then she’d lay her head back down on her feet. I watched her closely. When Calder arrived, she’d be the first to know.
    The campfire danced in the darkness, and as the wind switched, we’d get up and shuffle our chairs around the circle to avoid the smoke. Someone would say, “Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit,” to dispel the fumy cloud—which didn’t really work. By midnight, our game of musical chairs had me sitting by a guy named Connor.
    “Who are you looking for?” Connor asked. “You keep looking around like you’re expecting someone.”
    “Oh, no,” I said. “Not really.”
    “I don’t really know anyone here either. I came up to visit my college roommate. That’s him there.” Connor pointed toward the tents where a group of guys were talking and shoving each other. “His name’s Erik. He graduated from Bayfield.”
    Connor was smaller than the rest of the Bayfield crew: a tennis player, not football. After our initial introductions, he didn’t say much, which I appreciated, but he laughed too loud, and he rarely distinguished between what was truly funny and what was just plain stupid. He was harmless, but after a while, it got on my nerves. I got up to leave.
    Serious Boy watched me stand and asked, “Going somewhere?”
    “Do you have a problem with that?” I asked.
    Gabby pulled away from the other boy long enough to ask if I wanted her to come with me and guard the outhouse door.
    “No need,” I said.
    “Take this,” Connor said, and he handed me his flashlight. “It’s pretty dark once you get away from the campfire.”
    “At least there’s one gentleman in the group,” I said, and I think Serious Boy got the hint.
    In the dark, the ground seemed more uneven than it did in the daylight. I staggered a little as I walked, sending beams of light zigzagging off the canopy of trees like a laser light show. A jar light mounted at the peak of the outhouse roof lit the way and kept me on course. A swarm of moths competed for the light. I was nearly there when a pale arm darted out from the trees and yanked me into the woods.
    “Would you please stop doing that!” I whined. “That is so annoying. How long have you been out here?”
    “Since sunset,” Calder said.
    “I’ve been waiting all night for you,” I said curtly. “Maybe you should try being a little less antisocial.”
    “No, I’m good.” He took me into an embrace, curling me up in his lap between a moss-covered rock, and a shaggy cedar tree. He touched his lips gently to mine, and the tingle of electricity off him felt like humming through a comb.
    “Someone will come looking for me if I don’t get back soon,” I said, although I didn’t really believe it.
    “Not for a while,” he whispered; then his lips were at my ear. “Who are you sharing a tent