Karen gives a speech during lunch. "I'm sure you've all heard about the activity planned for this weekend," she says, her strident voice carrying easily through the Mess Hall. The room, usually noisy, has gone completely silent; everyone holding their breath in anticipation of news about the mysterious upcoming activity. "It will be a two-day activity," she continues. More than a few whispers and glances are exchanged. We've never had a two-day activity before— even an activity lasting longer than half the day is unheard of. "We will be hiking to the top of Pontoppidan Mountain, where we will set up camp and spend the night. The hike will take about eight hours there and back."

More whispers. More glances. Next to me, Emily mumbles, "If Karen thinks she can make me walk to the top of a freaking mountain, then she's got another thing coming."

"An eight-hour hike? That sounds like cruel and unusual punishment," says Selena, although not as quietly.

Karen glares sternly at the crowd. Unlike Owen, she's rarely oblivious to dissent. "The hike is mandatory," she proclaims, "and any camper that tries to skip out in any way will be scrubbing dishes for the rest of the summer. Questions?"

This last bit is mostly rhetorical, but Giselle raises her hand anyway. "Uh, yeah. Where are we going to sleep?"

"In the Four Seasons located conveniently at the top of the mountain," says the counselor, her words dripping with sarcasm. "No, Ms. Bell, we will be spending the night in tents, on sleeping bags. If you desire extra comfort, you may bring a padded mat, although this will make your backpack heavier on the way up."

Giselle mutters something under her breath.

"Feel free to take me up on my offer of kitchen duty for the rest of the summer," Karen says breezily. "Now, are there any other questions?"

Nobody raises their hand. Matt Mernan. doesn't even bother wolf-whistling.

"Then it's settled. We will be departing at eight tomorrow morning, so I suggest that you all pack your bags tonight."

Karen steps down from the podium, but her words linger in the air for a while longer.

For the rest of the day, all anybody talks about is the hike— I mean, The Hike. (It's capitalized because it's important.) "Do you think we're going to be, like, supervised?" Matt asks after Sharing Circle. "I mean, there's thirty-two of us and only five of them, so how closely can they watch us..."

"Don't get any ideas," Tima warns him. "I'm sure they're going to be on the look-out even more than usual for that kind of stuff. They'll bust you for smoking faster than you can even say it wasn't mine."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

Matt frowns. "The Hike is going to suck."

"You finally caught on?"

Our discussion of The Hike is only interrupted once: during dinner when the table is joined by two newcomers. The first one— Becca Fisher— is received far more warmly than the second. "You're always welcome to sit with us, Becca," Giselle gushes, patting the empty chair next to her. "Things are always more exciting when you're around."

Becca offers her a strained smile. "Thanks, Giselle, but I think I'm going to sit next to Finn tonight."

For some reason, this only adds to Giselle's cheerfulness. "No worries! Sit wherever you'd like!"

Still smiling awkwardly, Becca maneuvers over to my side. We've been on better terms since our conversation in the forest, but nothing is ever certain with her— and I worried that if I say one wrong word, we'll be back at square one, fighting again.

"I'm glad you're back," I say tentatively.

She tucks a stray curl behind her ear. "Me too."

My heart lifts. Becca is happy to be sitting with us; we're finally friends again. I can't help but think back to what Ronan told me three days ago: It's you she likes, not me. For one crazy, heady moment, I imagine that I might have a chance with Becca — but before I get the chance to voice my thoughts to her or even ponder the idea silently in my head, a tray slams down on the table and the moment between us is shattered.

"This seat taken?" asks Ronan.

Jasper immediately chokes on his water. Giselle passes him a napkin.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Levi demands. Out of all the people at the table, he looks the most displeased by my roommate's surprise entrance. I suppose he still hasn't forgiven him for the whole birthday party fiasco. "You never sit with us."

"There's a first time for everything. Like sky-diving."

"Ha. You are so humorous. Is this some kind of prank? Is Clancey about to pop out behind you and shout 'boo'?"

"Well, that's the thing. Clancey and I aren't friends anymore. You see, we had a bit of disagreement, and I decided I needed some space. So, will you let me sit at your table or not? My arms are getting tired of holding this tray up."

"Fine by me," Jasper says hoarsely.

"Seriously?" Levi exclaims. "You're taking his side?"

"I can't speak for his friendliness or his loyalty, but I do trust him to tell the truth. If he says that he's not friends with Clancey anymore, then I believe him."

Ronan looks oddly touched. "Thank you, Jasper. You really shouldn't trust me, but I'm honored that you do."

Levi's head spins towards Jasper like a pinwheel caught in the wind. "Don't you know what he did to get sent here?"

"No, actually. And I don't really care. We were all different people before Lightlake. I'd like to think that we get a second chance here."

"Don't give me that bullshit. You sound like a counselor."

"So? Not everything the counselors try to teach us is entirely useless."

Scowling, Levi spits out, "Sure. And Macbeth didn't try to kill the king."

"You know I don't understand your Shakespeare references, Levi."

"Yeah, well, I don't understand why you're letting this bastard sit at our table!"

"Is that a yes?" Ronan asks.

"Yes," Jasper says, at the same time his roommate snarls, "No!"

Exasperated, Levi turns to Emily. "Please, back me up here."

"No comment," she says, casting a furtive glance at Ronan and me. "Whatever drama you guys have, I don't want to be involved."

"Oh, for Christ's sake. Is everybody at this table a total idiot?" Levi flings his hand at me beseechingly. "Finn, please. He's your roommate. You know him better than anybody."

"Uh...." All eyes are on me now. I clear my throat awkwardly. "Well... I don't really have a problem with him sitting here. We made up. He's cool now."

"Thank you," Ronan says emphatically. And he takes a seat by my side.

Levi heaves a dramatic sigh that would make any theater teacher proud, then promptly lets his head fall into his hands. "Whatever. I give up."

Selena is the first one to try to attempt a normal conversation. "So, Ronan," she begins curiously, "what happened to your nose?"

"I fell," he replies, without missing a single beat. "Pass the salt?"

She tosses him the shaker. "Well, I heard that you got into a fight."

"Now, who would tell you such an outlandish lie?"

"I don't reveal my sources."

"That's okay. You can tell your sources that they're wrong. Lightlake has healed my soul; I will never lift a finger against another camper again. I am truly a pacifist now."

"Truly a smart-ass is what you are now," Levi mutters.

Ronan only grins.

But the surprises don't stop at dinner. A few minutes after lights out, I hear a knock and discover Becca Fisher standing outside my door.

"Can I come in?" she asks, shivering slightly.

I open the door a little wider in response.

We sit down on the floor against my bed. She glances around the shadowy cabin, then narrows her eyes, as if calculating a math equation that doesn't quite add up. "Your roommate's not here," she points out. Something about the way she says this makes my spine tingle.

"He says that we give him hives."

"Huh. Where'd he run off to this time?"

"Probably to hang out with James. Apparently, they're all chummy now."

"Is he usually out causing trouble at night?"

"Only on days ending in y."

She cracks a smile. "I'm glad we're cool again, Finn."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Wanna turn a light on?"

"Uh, I guess. The counselors might see."

"Screw the counselors." Becca leaps up and flicks on my bedside lamp. The golden hue expands through the cabin, turning the splintering wooden walls into artisan mahogany. Her blue and brown eyes glint like dual sides of an Australian opal. "Let's live a little."

A nervous laugh escapes my lips. "Are you trying to get us put on kitchen duty?"

"Yes. That's been my evil plan all along. You caught me."

"Okay, but seriously, what are you doing here?"

She settles back down on the floor next to me. "Oh, I don't know. I guess I just wanted to talk. There's this... sort of weight in my chest. I feel like something bad is going to happen during the Hike, and I'm worried about you."

"What do you mean, 'something bad'?"

"I'm not sure yet. But it is something unavoidable," Becca says. She chews restlessly on the edge of her lip between the drawn-out words. "Something like... a reckoning."

"Judgement Day?" I ask jokingly. "I thought that wasn't supposed to happen for another twelve years, when all the computers short-circuit and democracy crumbles around us."

Becca's face tightens up, and I don't think it's because of the Bible reference, or even the dumb joke. "You need to watch your back, Finn. You've made enemies at this camp. And nothing good happens after midnight."

"My dad used to tell me that. But I'm pretty sure it's just because he didn't want me getting drunk at wild parties."

Becca gives me that's not funny look. "It's probably because he's a cop, and he knows from experience that shit goes down after dark when there's nobody around to see it happen. There are only so many counselors, Finn. They can't be there to stop every fight. And they certainly won't be there when someone tries to pull something on you in the middle of the night."

"When?"

"That's not what I meant," Becca says hastily. A little too hastily, like she's trying to convince someone that everything is fine— although I'm not sure if that someone is me, or herself. "I should have said if. I don't know for sure. Things are just... complicated."

"Hey, you don't need to explain complicated to me. My whole life is complicated."

"I'm being serious, Finn. Something bad is going to go down. Promise me that you'll be extra careful during the hike."

(When Becca says "the hike", she really means "the hike". None of that capitalized letter bullshit. Becca chooses the shit she wants to take seriously, and it's rarely what everybody else is freaking out about at the time.)

"I'll be careful," I tell her, because what else am I supposed to say? That I'm going to show up with my boxing gloves and challenge Clancey to a fight? I'm not Ronan. I don't seek out trouble. I'm naturally more cautious than most of the campers here, so if there's anyone Becca needs to tell to be extra careful, it's not me.

Becca's face softens. She smiles at me, and I feel my chest go all melty and soft as well. I can't help it. She looks radiant when she smiles.

"Let's converse." She throws herself backwards onto the bed and clasps her hands beneath her cloud of curly hair, her long, brown legs dangling idly over the edge, all runner's muscles and summer bruises. I can still see the scab on her knee from when I startled her on the trail. She looks perfectly at ease with herself, and it makes me realize how far we've come since we saw each other on the first day of camp by the roommate list. I never would have thought that Becca, the girl who kicks chairs over and curses out counselors and never, ever lets her guard down in front of another human would, one day, be reclining on my bed with a lazy smile on her face and not a single worry in the world.

What a journey this summer has been.

"Converse about what?"

"Tell me a story, one that I haven't ever heard before. Tell me something I don't know. Tell me about your family."

"Well, my family is a dysfunctional disaster," I say, a little surprised that Becca, the naysayer of families everywhere, would bring mine up now. "Why do you want to hear about them?"

"I want to get to know you, Fish. And this is the hour for sharing secrets. So, spill."

"Tell you something you don't know..." I can't imagine Becca not knowing something, but I decide to take the plunge anyway. If there's anyone at this camp I trust with my secrets, it's her. "Okay. Well, my family's a bit of a mess right now, but we used to do fun things together. Like, when I was little, we'd go to this little town in the middle of nowhere California— Dusty Valley, it's where my dad grew up— and we'd stay there for weeks, just baking in the heat. Sometimes, when my dad was feeling whimsical, he'd put Sarah and me in the back of his pick-up truck and drive out into the desert, just blasting Creedence Clearwater, and the wind and sand would be blowing in our faces... it was a kid's dream. When he drove around at night all you could see were stars."

"That sounds beautiful," Becca says softly.

"It was. I would pick a star and point at it, and my dad would go, 'Oh, that's Betelgeuse!'. And then Sarah would ask, 'How far away is Betelgeuse?', and dad would answer, 'A billion, million miles away.' Then I would pick a different star, and dad would name it, and Sarah would ask how far away it was again. We would do that for hours. My dad liked to pretend that he saw UFOs, too. 'There goes another alien, what do you mean you didn't see it, you must have blinked!' For years I thought that Dusty Valley was the biggest extraterrestrial hot-spot in the world. I would stare at the night sky, holding my eyelids open, searching the stars for spaceships."

"Do you still vacation there?"

"Nah. We stopped going years ago. Dad got a promotion, and he was too busy to go... then he and mom started the divorce process, and Dusty Valley went out the window. We can't go anymore. Not without Sarah."

Becca runs a hand through her curls, spreading them out across my blankets like a brown fan. "I bet she misses you a lot."

I think about the letter I sent giving her and her fiance my blessing, and an old pain starts to ache in my chest. "Maybe."

"Do you think you'll ever go back to Dusty Valley?"

"I don't know." I turn my eyes to the window and gaze out through the crack in the blinds, trying to catch a glimpse of the same sky that I once stared at with my dad so many years ago, watching for UFOs. It's still too bright outside for stars. "I hope so."

Becca follows my eyes to the window. Then she reaches out and lowers the blinds, covering up the crack. "You will see the stars in the desert again, Finn. I promise."

"Really?" I don't try to cover up the longing in my voice. "How do you know that?"

"I... I couldn't give you a good explanation. You'll just have to take my word for it."

"How come we never talk about your family, Becca?"

"I don't like to talk about my family."

"I know that. But why?"

"I just don't. It makes me uncomfortable." She isn't smiling anymore. She looks upset, but not at me. "They aren't... good people."

"What did they do to you?"

"Nothing. We just don't get along."

"Why not?"

"Well, they're Catholic missionaries, and I'm an atheist, so it doesn't exactly work out."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's a... sad sad story for a different time." She sweeps a stray curl from her eyes and lets out a soft sigh. Then she asks: "Do you want to go for a walk?"