Chapter 7
seven
Chris
As much as I hate to admit it, the bike ride doesn’t suck.
I mean, biking’s never really been my thing—I’ll take a pair of running shoes over a pair of wheels any day.
But there’s no denying that Mackinac Island’s got a pretty sweet view once you escape the crowds and the stench of horse shit.
Forests fill the interior—a national park, according to Quinn’s running commentary—and it’s the perfect time of year, not too cold yet and with the leaves just starting to change into bursts of yellows, oranges, and reds.
Even the broken shore we pass, while not exactly prime beach real estate, has a certain rough charm.
Of course, it’s not the landscape that keeps drawing my traitorous eyes.
I had to pick up my pace early on to get ahead of Percy so I’d stop staring.
Even if I have no intention of ever speaking to him again, there’s something about his unique blend of nerdiness and athleticism I still find irresistible.
Only he can make a Star Trek sweatshirt look that sexy.
If Quinn notices my obsession, she doesn’t comment, matching my increased speed without complaint.
Not that I can go particularly fast anyway.
True to her word, Oshkoff constrains us to a light, relaxed pace that makes it easy to chat while we ride.
She points out different varieties of plants as we go, along with some of the more noteworthy rock formations.
I assume they have some deep-seated historical significance, but I don’t pay enough attention to tell.
We’ve only been traveling a few minutes when Oshkoff calls a halt at the first stop on our tour.
Dwightwood Springs doesn’t look like much to me—little more than a dilapidated wooden trellis surrounding a hole in the wall. The way Oshkoff describes it, though, it’s the eighth wonder of the world.
“Dwightwood Springs is a natural spring,” she explains, gesturing to the half-circle opening.
“That thin trickle of water you see flows out of layers of compressed limestone within the island’s bedrock.
I wouldn’t recommend drinking it, though, since it fails to meet current water safety standards. ”
Quinn waits until Oshkoff’s back is turned to cup her hand under the water and bring it to her lips. I roll my eyes at her. “You only did that because she told you not to.”
“What better reason is there to do anything?” She holds out another handful of water. “Want to try?”
“Not a chance.”
“Oh, come on.” She waves her cupped hand in front of my face. “It’s refreshing! Besides, it’s not like our regular tap water isn’t chock full of chemicals.”
I shove her arm away. Water sloshes over her fingers. “Yeah, well, I’ll take my chances with the devil I know, thanks.”
Her face brightens. “Ooo, speaking of devils, there’s this neat spot not far from the Royal Lilac called Devil’s Kitchen. It’s supposed to look like a screaming face. They say the black soot caking its walls comes from cannibal spirits making cooking fires to roast their victims.”
All right, that does sound more interesting, but I’m not about to give Quinn the satisfaction of admitting it. “Greeeat. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it from Oshkoff when we get there. Maybe we can offer a few of our fellow students as tribute.”
Quinn only grins in response, seeing right through my act.
Sometimes, it sucks having a best friend who’s immune to your bullshit.
Then she hesitates, glancing at something behind me.
I follow her gaze and see Percy. He stayed on his bike so he’d be ready to leave as soon as Oshkoff gives the word. And he’s staring right at us.
As soon as he meets my eyes, he blushes and turns away. I clench my jaw and do the same. Quinn opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, then closes it, reconsidering. Thank God. I don’t know if I could explain the coiled tension racing through me if I tried.
Apparently, Percy’s not the only one watching us because someone clears their throat right beside me.
I turn and find Devon standing there. The girl from the ferry clings to his arm, and a few other guys trail behind them.
The girl smiles hesitantly at me, and the guys bob their heads.
Devon, however, fixes me with a death glare.
“Move, Rawley. The rest of us want to see the spring up close, too.”
I’d been about to leave anyway, but his tone sets me on edge, anger pulsing through me. I plant my feet and raise an eyebrow at him as I slowly cross my arms. “Well, then you can get in line. We’re not finished yet.”
“Really?” Devon sneers. “Because as I remember it, you’re pretty good at quitting in the middle of things. Or is that only when others are counting on you?”
Bullshit! As if he and the rest of the team hadn’t all but helped Coach shove me out the door.
I flush and clench my fists, taking a step toward him even though I have no idea what I’m going to do next.
I’m not much of a fighter, and Devon’s got at least twenty pounds of muscle on me—not to mention backup.
The rest of his group’s friendliness has vanished, replaced by a mix of matching glares and cracking knuckles.
Before I can do anything rash, Quinn inserts herself between us. “Now, now, boys, there’s plenty of poisonous water to go around.” She tugs lightly on my arm, and after a brief hesitation, I let her pull me away. Behind us, Devon and his friends laugh.
I hunch my back. “I had it under control.”
“You mean, you weren’t about to get your ass kicked over a stupid spring you don’t even care about?” She gives me a flat look. “My mistake.”
“The damn spring’s not the point,” I mutter. “It’s about standing up to that prick and showing him he can’t walk all over me. I had enough of that when I quit the team. Listen to them—they’re laughing at me!”
“So? Screw those guys!” She gestures to the forest on our left and the lake on our right.
“Let the serene beauty of nature wash over you.” A group of bikers trundles past us as if on cue, the cries of screaming kids echoing in their wake.
Somehow, Quinn manages to keep a straight face as they vanish around a bend.
“See? So peaceful. How can you not be relaxed?”
I laugh, some of my tension easing. I know she’s right—I shouldn’t let Devon get to me.
But that’s doubly hard when I’m already so on edge from another unwanted presence nearby.
Despite my best efforts, my eyes seek out Percy in the crowd, and my skin prickles when I realize he’s watching me again.
His eyes widen when they meet mine, but this time, he doesn’t look away.
We stand there, trapped in each other’s gazes like insects encased in amber, until Quinn’s voice beside me shatters the moment. I shake my head, turning away from Percy. Add him to the list of assholes I need to avoid today, right next to Devon.
Oshkoff calls an end to our stop, and we return to our bikes.
As I pedal, I try to force myself to live in the moment, sinking into the comforting burn of my muscles and letting everything else slip away.
I don’t realize how fast I’m going until Quinn yelps and Oshkoff shouts for us to slow down.
I oblige, shooting Quinn a sheepish look.
“Sorry. Guess I got a little carried away.”
“No…problem,” she pants. Beads of sweat dapple her forehead. “Pain…is gain.”
Setting a more reasonable pace, I admire the landscape as it zooms past. I’d forgotten how good this feels—to glide over the world and leave all its petty problems in your dust. It’s one of the things I’d loved most about track.
When I’d been at peak performance, feet slapping the pavement, it had seemed like I could outrun anything.
Just one more thing Percy and Devon had stolen from me.
The day warms as morning transitions to afternoon.
Oshkoff sets such a painfully slow pace that other cyclists constantly pass us.
We stop at several more landmarks along the way, though only one that impresses me.
Formed from natural limestone, Arch Rock extends across the cliff face overlooking the road.
Scraggly trees press against it on either side, lending the circular opening the feeling of a portal into some secret magical wilderness.
Quinn and I argue over what kind of world would be on the other side, my vision of a horrific sylvan hellscape competing with her rainbow fairy wonderland.
Throughout the ride, I make it a point to ignore both Devon and Percy. That proves easy enough in Devon’s case. Percy, though…
No matter what I do, I keep catching glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye whenever we stop or I have to slow to let the others catch up.
His legs pumping away on the pedals. His messy brown hair billowing in the wind.
His perfect grin as he stares out across the glistening sapphire water.
The faint trail of hair revealed on his belly when he raises his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow.
That last leaves me blushing so hard, Quinn worries I’m suffering from heatstroke.
God, it’s not fair how attracted to Percy I still am.
I’ve hardly even thought of him for months, yet here I am after less than a day in his presence, practically swooning over him all over again.
Somehow, he’s wormed his way right back into my subconscious, and all I can do now is keep my distance until this damn trip is over and I never have to see him again.
It’s near noon when Oshkoff announces we’re stopping for lunch at a proper beach along the shore that a nearby placard declares British Landing.
I tune out Oshkoff’s explanation of the place’s historical significance and make a beeline for the small roadside shack offering fried refreshments to hungry tourists.
Unfortunately, Quinn doesn’t let me off the hook so easily.
“Can you believe we’re standing right where soldiers fought a critical battle in the War of 1812 against the British?”
I study the menu while we wait for our turn to order. “Critical, huh? That’s what we’re going with?”
“All right, fine,” she huffs. “Maybe it wasn’t critical. But I mean, it was still a battle! The British invaded from the lake and took control of Fort Mackinac.”
We reach the front of the line. The woman behind the counter smiles at us. “Did I hear you talking about British Landing?”
“Yeah!” Quinn says. “I was trying to convince my friend here what an important battle it was.”
The woman chuckles. “Well, now, I don’t know I’d go that far. Hardly even a battle, really, since the commander of the garrison here surrendered without a fight.”
I give Quinn a triumphant look as she deflates.
“Whatever,” she says, glaring at me. “I’ll have some onion rings and a diet pop.”
We place our order and grab our food, carrying it back across the road to the beach.
Not seeing anywhere else to sit, we plop down into the soft sand.
Some of that serenity Quinn had mentioned earlier washes over me as I gaze out across the water, the wind riffling my bangs.
I close my eyes and relax, tipping my head back.
Quinn nudges my shoulder. “See? Told you this trip wouldn’t be so bad.”
I snort without opening my eyes. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours, and I’ve already almost gotten into a fight with my ex-friend and my…
Percy.” I stumble over my words, some protective instinct flaring.
If Percy’s still in the closet, I won’t be the one to out him.
Coming out had been bad enough for me when I was ready for it.
I wouldn’t wish the experience onto anyone else, especially someone I—
I blink my eyes open, shifting in the sand. Perhaps there’s such a thing as a bit too much serenity. No sense letting my mind wander to places it shouldn’t.
For once, Quinn seems content to sit silently, so I let my eyes roam over the surrounding beach. Only after I’ve completed a circuit of the area do I realize I’d been searching for one person in particular. And he’s nowhere in sight. I frown, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
Quinn must notice my expression. “What?” she asks. “Did your happiness overflow, so you defaulted back to angst?”
“Ha-ha,” I deadpan. “I… It’s nothing.”
And it isn’t. Really. What do I care where Percy is? It’s not like I want to be around him anyway. If he wants to run off in the middle of the school trip, that’s not my problem—not anymore.
I settle back into the sand, propping myself up on my elbows, and struggle to regain my earlier serenity. But try as I might, I can’t erase errant thoughts of Percy from my mind.