Wild About You

Chapter Twenty

The dark clouds gathering over our campsite tonight are a little too on the nose, if you ask me.

I wouldn’t ask me much right now, though, as I can feel myself being an absolute witch to everyone who tries to engage in conversation. Especially Finn.

“Want seconds of anything?” he asks as he stands from his camp chair beside mine, on the outskirts of the group gathered around the fire. “I’m going back for more mac and cheese.”

I have half a mind to ask him to bring the whole pan of it over here, but I know that’s just the side of me that likes to eat my feelings, so I shake my head no. He gives me that lost puppy look he’s perfected lately, but heads off toward the food table without another word.

He’s been so extra nice to me ever since we almost lost the challenge today, offering to carry my pack, doing all the tent setup himself, helping bandage my gross, bloody hands and knee, now trying to shove food at me in penance. But what he hasn’t done is apologize for anything he said. So I’ve given him nothing in return.

Though I do have this thought, like an itch at the back of my brain I can’t scratch, that he wasn’t really in the wrong to get a little impatient. I would be, if I had to deal with me as a partner. Someone who is her own biggest obstacle, getting in her own way time and time again. Have I been kidding myself, thinking I was ever a good teammate? Was today just the culmination of weeks of Finn wanting to tell me to get my ass in gear, try harder, do better? Can I blame him so much if it was?

Everyone must realize that I was not made for a show like Wild Adventures. I am as indoorsy as they come. Shit, I’d have been better off going on Good Chef/Bad Chef or something, and I scarcely know how to boil a pot of water. There have been moments when I believed I was getting the hang of things, or that my random knowledge based on romance novels and horse farm life have come in handy. But did I actually think I had a chance of winning the whole thing, back when I signed up for all this? Was I thinking at all?

These are the questions that consume me on a loop, as everyone else goes on eating, talking, and laughing together. Others include “How much money could I be making if I’d kept my job at Body Wonderland, stayed in Boston, and went up to full-time hours for the summer?” and “How much will I be able to make if I go back there and start working, say, next week?” and even “Which benevolent talk show host should I write a letter to, asking if they want to sponsor my college career?”

This brainstorming feels a little more productive than the complete self-loathing I want to sink into like a too-hot bath that’ll turn my skin all red. But it also feels as pointless as the rest of this, as paralyzed by my own incompetence and hopelessness as I’m feeling right now.

“How we feeling tonight, everybody?” booms a voice I didn’t expect to hear again today. We all turn to see Burke Forrester approaching, backlit by the setting sun, a camera close at his side. What the…?

There are confused murmurs of “Good,” “Great,” “How are you?” in return, and Burke gives a small, fake chuckle. “Glad to hear it! But I bet you’re all wondering why I’m here.”

More murmurs of agreement with that.

“I’ve come with a surprise for you all—a little something to help the morale around here as our competition heats up and you’re all feeling the pressure. Any guesses what it is?”

A dozen ridiculous guesses float through my mind. Look under your camp chairs! You get a tent-sized memory-foam mattress! You get a new car that you can drive to our next checkpoint! Meena and Cammie won lifetime entrance passes to the national parks system as their challenge prize today, plus a camping hammock from some luxury outdoors brand that advertises with Wild Adventures. More merch from them, maybe?

Instead, Burke pulls from his backpack a single, large tablet. What, are we all supposed to share it?

“Everybody come closer,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. We do as we’re told, some pulling chairs around him in a semicircle while others stand behind us. Finn stands directly behind my chair, brushing my shoulder with his hand, only for a second but it still makes me shiver.

I’m not really staying mad at him, am I?

Satisfied with the setup, Burke turns the tablet toward himself, tapping around a few times. When he turns it back to face us, a middle-aged white woman fills the screen. A couple seats away from me, Enemi gasps, a hand flying to her mouth and her eyes instantly shining.

“Hi, Alli girl,” the woman says with a smile like her daughter’s, if the latter had more soul behind it. “It’s Mom!”

Even through tears, Enemi manages to sound like textbook Bitchy Teenager when she says, “God, Mom, obviously I know it’s you. What are you—how is this—what’s going on?”

Her mom has an infectious laugh that even makes me smile. “I just wanted to give you a little pep talk, let you know that you’ve got this! I’m sure you’re doing amazing, sweetie, and I can’t wait to watch you shine.”

More sniffles from the blond bully’s corner. If we keep this up for very long, it’s going to make my grudge harder to hold. “Thanks, Mommy,” she manages.

“You make me so proud every day, so keep going out there and kicking butt, okay? I’ll see you when you get home, but don’t hurry back. Love you, sugar monkey!”

Sugar monkey?I think I tamp down my incredulous expression before I look over at Enemi again. She doesn’t seem embarrassed in the least as she and her mom exchange goodbyes and tears pour down her cheeks. Who knew she could produce such a human substance? I have to look away, lest my icy heart thaw.

Burke taps around to pull up another video call, this one featuring an older Black man who we soon learn is Cammie’s grandpa. It goes on, each call from home somehow sweeter and more moving than the last. Maybe it’s partly the period hormones, but I’m having a hell of a time keeping my eyes dry.

Then a pretty white woman with long, gray-streaked brown hair appears on screen. I wouldn’t recognize her off the bat, but the girl next to her is a dead ringer for a younger Finn, if Finn had a pixie cut and his deep brown eyes were naturally smilier. My heart gives a squeeze, and almost without my willing it, my hand reaches up over my shoulder and clasps his. He holds on so tight, it hurts my rope burn, so I shift my grip to be more comfortable. I can feel him shaking, and know if I was to look his way, I’d lose it before his family members said a word. So I keep my eyes on them.

“Hey there, Finny! How is our favorite guy?” his mom says, already swiping a tear away.

“Hi, Mom,” he says, not trying to hide the emotion in his voice. “Hey, Frannie. I’m good, how are you guys?”

“We miss you!” Frannie chirps.

“We do, but we’re so happy for you, bud,” his mom interjects. “We just hope you’re having the best time on this—well, for lack of a better word, adventure. We are prouder than you know, sweetheart, and I know without a doubt that your dad would be, too.”

“Thank you,” Finn manages with shaking breath. “I—I think he would.”

“Of course he would. You’re smart and creative and you’ve always been great at tackling each new challenge with dedication and courage. I see more of Dad in you every day—” His mom has to pause, and a stoic Frannie puts an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be too sappy. Point is, you’re following through on both his and your dream, and even if you come home tomorrow, we hope you still feel pleased with all you’ve done and the amazing person you are.”

“But try not to come home tomorrow,” Frannie teases, and Finn and I, along with the whole teary group, laugh.

“We’ll do our best,” Finn says with a squeeze of my hand, and I wave to the screen with my free one.

“Is that your partner? Hi! We can’t wait to watch you two together!” His mom gives me an enthusiastic wave, and Frannie smirks at her as though to tell her to chill. She doesn’t give Finn or me time to respond, which is fortunate, as I have no clue what to say right now. “Have fun, stay safe, and we’ll see you when we see you!”

Finn tells them he loves them and they say their goodbyes, and when I look over at the rest of the group, there’s not a dry eye in the woods. Burke connects the next video call, and I finally chance a look back. Our clasped hands still rest on my shoulder, Finn’s white-knuckling mine in a way that isn’t sustainable for my circulation, but I won’t say anything just yet. Especially when I see his face, tracked with tears that he isn’t even bothering to wipe away. His chin trembles as the moisture collects under it and drips onto the ground.

I try to be subtle as I pat under my eyes with my sleeve, facing forward again to watch the rest of Evan’s greeting from home. Apparently I am absolutely wrecked by proud, loving families expressing said pride and love. Duly noted.

As I watch, I realize I’m the last one left without a call. Nerves kick in for the first time, rumbling in my stomach, tightening my chest. What are my parents going to say? They barely know what I’m doing here and definitely don’t care, let alone feel proud of me for it. And how the hell did Wild Adventures even get in touch with them? Were my folks nice about it, or is it another strike in the Natalie Is A Huge Burden column in their black book of all my faults? How is this going to be anything but the most awkward call ever?

When Burke turns the screen back around, I no longer have to wonder.

“Nat! Our love, our life!” Reese squeals. Clara and Reese’s boyfriend, Benny, crowd into the selfie cam frame on either side of her.

“Natalieee,” Benny sings in a strange opera voice, and Clara, the most camera-shy of us all, waves. “You’re aliiive!”

Reese covers Benny’s mouth with her hand. “And we are not at all surprised by that!”

“You’re not?” I force a laugh over all the mixed emotions rioting in me. “I kind of am.”

“No way! You’re such a badass at everything you do, so of course you’d be the same out there. You take anything life throws at you and make it your b—best experience yet.”

Clara cuts in as Reese makes an awkward, almost-cursed-on-camera face. “Personally, I’m impressed at how well you appear to have kept up your makeup routine.”

“Obviously,” I say with a smirk, hiding as many of my feelings as I can behind the fa?ade of sass. Total Natalie move. “How are y’all?”

“Same old stuff around here, plus Clar came to visit,” Reese says.

“Is that your partner behind you?” Benny asks, and I nod. “Man, I’m sorry for your luck. It must be rough, and if you need to talk about it, I’m—”

“Oh, hush, Norberto!” I snap. He’s hitting a bit too close to the mark. “I know a lot of good places to bury a body now.”

“I take it back.” Benny waves his hand at the camera as if to clear the record. “Can we cut that whole exchange in the final episode? I did not consent to her use of my first name in front of the viewing public!”

“As we were saying,” Reese enunciates slowly, cutting her boyfriend a sharp look. “We are really proud of you, and impressed by how far you’ve gone, and please come back soon. I mean, win the money first, then hurry on home so we can love on you and maybe throw a parade in your honor. That seems appropriate, right?”

“Not only appropriate, but necessary,” Clara agrees with a decisive nod. “Okay, keep being incredible!”

“I love y’all,” I mumble through my inevitable tears.

“We love you!”

“See you soon!”

The screen goes black, and the group in the woods breaks into emotion-drenched applause and excited chatter about how wonderful that was. I clap somewhat mindlessly and think I manage a semblance of a smile, but I’m no longer feeling the same uplifted, good vibes of everyone else.

It was wonderful to see my best friends’ faces. To hear they love me and think I’m amazing and kicking ass in the competition—even Benny, who only teases because he loves me—however unfounded I think their confidence is.

But it’s not lost on me that I’m the only one without a family member sending a greeting from home.

All at once, I’m back in the lobby outside my high school’s auditorium, where everyone gathered after our theater productions to greet the cast, give out flowers and hugs, share praise and congratulations. Everyone’s families and closest friends and even randoms from school who just felt like seeing the show. But for me and those close enough to know me, there was always a glaring absence in the group. My parents. They didn’t come to any of my shows in my whole high school theater career. At first, there were excuses—not being able to get away from work, or the more vague “things to do.” Eventually, those broke down into, “Another show? Didn’t you just wrap up the last one?” and “Where do you think all this is going? No one actually makes it as a professional actress.”

I heard the message, loud and clear: we don’t believe in you, we’re not interested in what you’re up to, and we’re not going to waste our time pretending otherwise.

Same story now. I know they don’t understand why I wanted to do this. I know they are possibly the last people in the world who would want to be on TV for any reason. But I also know I’m so damn tired of making excuses for them, and that none of the excuses lessen the hurt.

Granny Star would have been there. Granny Star would have video called me, even if she’d had to go to Best Buy and get a webcam to attach to her ancient desktop computer. It’s times like this that her loss feels that much more painful, and I don’t know if it’ll ever be less so.

I have to remove myself from the others as our evening wind-down resumes. I grab my toiletry bag and find a stump to sit on in a quiet spot in the woods. With the soft hum of conversations around the campfire in the background, I go through my nightly routine, trying to focus on each action in a meditative way—I feel the cool makeup-removing cloth against my skin, smell the light, chemical-y scent they call “unscented,” taste my minty toothpaste foam.

It kind of works, but I find myself feeling sad more than anything. As a last-ditch effort, I dig out one of the sheet masks I brought and haven’t gotten around to using, this one labeled as “serene green tea and eucalyptus.” Sure, I could use some serenity.

After unfolding the thin, cool green sheet and patting it down on my face, getting the nose, eye, and mouth holes all lined up right, I lean back against another tree beside my stump and close my eyes. I try some deep breathing because it seems like the serene thing to do.

In, one, two, three, why don’t my parents love me…. Out, one, two, three, I don’t know but if they can’t love me how could anyone else…. In, one, two, I almost lost us the whole competition today because of my scaredy-cat brain…. Out, one, I suck at this, I suck at school, I suck at being a person a lot of the tiiime….

Okay, this isn’t working flawlessly. I give up on suppressing the thoughts and just let them run away from me, with me, in circles around me, closing in tighter and tighter. At some point, I halfway hear my name in the distance, but don’t make any moves to open my eyes or find where it’s coming from. I stay put on my stump, clearing my skin while letting my mind get messier than ever.

“Natalie, are you ou— Holy shit!” My eyes pop open at the exclamation and I find Finn standing there with a hand over his heart, gasping for breath.

“What?” I ask, trying to sound as chill as the mask was supposed to make me feel.

“Your—” He waves a hand in a circle to indicate my whole face. “You scared me half to death. Not what anyone wants to run into in a dark forest.”

Oh, right. The mask.

Still, I’m a little affronted by his reaction. I cross my arms over my chest. “Well, I didn’t especially want to run into you either, thank you very much.”

He sighs, shifting his weight to his left foot and crossing his own arms while he looks my way as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with me. “Come on, Nat, that’s not what I meant. You’ve been gone for a while and I was getting worried. Well, to be honest, I’ve been worried ever since we finished the challenge today. You haven’t been yourself.”

“I think I’ve been a little too much myself. That’s the whole problem.”

His head jerks back, expression incredulous. “What are you talking about?”

I take a moment to peel my mask off first. If we’re getting into this, I don’t need the indignity of looking like a demonic ghost.

“You’ve known it since the beginning, Finn,” I say, not making eye contact as I ball up the used sheet between my bandage-covered palms. “I’m not cut out for all this stuff. I’m not outdoorsy or athletic or even all that adventurous. I’m weak, but good enough at fooling people into thinking I’m strong. Incompetent, but I fake being a badass bitch who has it all handled. It might win people over or get me far enough in the beginning, but eventually everyone sees the truth. Clearly you have.”

Finn steps closer. “Okay, whoa, where to even start with that. Natalie, when have I given you the idea I think you’re anything but amazing?”

I raise a brow. “Uh, most of the time we’ve known each other? I know, I know, it was different for a while there. But today, I completely lost it in the challenge and you knew it. You were frustrated with me, and you were probably right to be. I just lost my shit and couldn’t get it back together, and I almost made us lose.”

“No, that’s—no. Stop.” He crouches beside my stump so we’re eye level. “I’m sorry I was too intense today. We both know I can be a dick. I shouldn’t have gotten short with you, or said those things, and I’ll do anything I can to make it up to you. Including not speaking to you like that again. But that’s all on me, it’s not—you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s valid to be afraid of something that’s objectively pretty scary and that you haven’t done before.”

“Is it also valid to be too afraid to sleep in a tent by myself at night?”

“I mean, yeah?” Not the most confident answer. He rubs at the back of his neck as if he’s holding a lot of tension there. “What are you trying to convince me of, here?”

“That I can’t handle this!” I blurt out. “And it was ridiculous to think I could.”

Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance, but Finn doesn’t bat one perfect eyelash. He reaches out and I allow him to take one of my hands in his. His grasp is soft, his thumb caressing my wrist the same, but when he speaks, the words don’t match that tone.

“Well, tough shit.”

I blink, offering a less than eloquent, “Huh?”

“You can tell yourself that all you want, but it’s not true and you’re not going to convince me. The only times you’ve struggled are when you’ve gotten too much in your own head.”

My jaw drops. “Oh, so my biggest problem is me? If I can just get over myself or, I don’t know, outsmart my anxiety, I can win this thing? Great! So glad you’ve cracked it!”

“Nat.” He sighs. “I know it’s not that easy. That our brains can tell us all kinds of bullshit, and there’s chemical stuff at work that we can’t just ‘outsmart’ and go on about our day. But you can change your thought patterns, try thinking about all the ways things can go right instead of how they can go wrong.”

This conversation is making my head hurt, and I rub at my temples. “Telling myself how great I am isn’t going to just magically make me capable of winning the money. I could be making money as we speak, had I not decided to come on a mystical forest goose chase for the minuscule possibility of a scholarship. I could’ve worked this summer like a normal human. How many times have my parents tried to tell me? But here I am, nutty Natalie, choosing the least practical path available.”

Finn stands and paces back and forth a couple times before facing me again. “What good does thinking about that do you now? Obsessing over should’ve, could’ve, would’ves has the potential to screw yourself out of an amazing experience and winning a lot of money, and if you don’t care about that for you, then care about it for me. Care that you’d be screwing me out of it too.”

My stomach plummets to the forest floor, and I feel suddenly lower than the thousands of microorganisms that my AT e-books tell me live in the dirt. That’s the last thing I want at this point, to ruin Finn’s chance to win. And I know it’s exactly where I’m headed.

But then he gives me whiplash as he steers this speeding train of a conversation in a different direction.

“Should we go over all the amazing things you’ve done here?” He sounds frustrated still, but also defensive. Of me. “Building fires, riding horses, assembling tents, rappelling down a fire tower repeatedly, hauling a backpack that’s bigger than you across whole mountains? Let alone keeping both of us going when my bad attitude makes me want to give up. Making me laugh, brightening my days, turning my world upside down on a mini golf course—any of that ring a bell?”

Even as I’m still fighting the anxiety current that wants to pull me under, his words make my stomach do a flip. I’m not used to this, someone working so hard to convince me that I’m awesome. It’s not familiar or comfortable, and I don’t know how to respond.

Finn’s gaze tracks over my face, probably trying to determine if he should continue his praise dump. I don’t want that to happen, so I give him a small smile and hesitant nod. “It rings a bell.”

“Good,” he says, kneeling before me again. “Can you believe me when I tell you how great you are, then, and how lucky I am to be with you? I’m already begging on my knees but I can lie flat on the ground if I need to.”

My smile grows against my will, and I even let out a small laugh as I shake my head. “No, the nice hotel people just did your laundry. Don’t destroy their hard work so soon.”

The double sleeping bag feels less cozy and exciting when we crawl in tonight, and more like a really tough setup for hiding my true feelings. I’ve never been so conflicted, so warmed and comforted by someone’s support and yet still so sure that I’m causing more problems for either of us than is necessary. I curl up against Finn but my thoughts are too scattered to the emotional hurricane winds for much kissing or cuddling. I’m already past the worst of my period, but thankful for the convenient excuse of cramps when I roll away from him. It’s only a few inches between us but I wonder, as Finn pops his earplugs in again, if he also feels it like a sign. One representing the gulf between us, our lives, our futures, that will only get wider from here.