Chapter 8
Stevie
August is a big, fat liar. He said the headache wouldn’t be that bad after twenty-four hours. I’m literally calling him on it.
“You, sir, are a big, fat liar,” I whine from the yellow couch cushion I’ve been sitting on all day. I partially close my eyes, because it helps with the pain.
After Adam dropped me off this morning I plopped down, and I’ve only gotten up to get Tylenol and a few bowls of Lucky Charms. Now it’s late in the evening, and August and Marlow came to check on me—or so they say. I’m guessing word has gotten out.
“How did I lie to you?” August says, fighting laughter.
“You said my conk-cussion wouldn’t be as bad today.” I rub my temples and tip my head back against the cushion.
“Have you done what I suggested?” He leans forward, his elbows on his knees.
“Are you resting? Staying away from screens, like your phone or computer or whatever someone might use to—I don’t know—start a podcast about Bigfoot?
” He raises his eyebrows. “Squatch Watcher?” He throws out the name of my podcast like an accusation and a question.
He has a point. And I was right—word has gotten out.
I laughed so hard when I chose the name for my social media page and podcast. Squatch Watcher: The One That Got Away.
It’s all about my bet with my friends and my search for Bigfoot.
I’m snickering again just thinking about it.
I sent links to a group chat with my brothers as soon as everything was live.
I can’t believe they haven’t blown up my phone yet.
I’m glad my friends have already heard about it, though.
That was the point of sharing everything online.
I don’t have time to waste. Whatever I saw is still out there, and if I can’t find him myself without vertigo knocking me on my butt, I’m recruiting.
I’ve already gotten a few messages from people out of state who want more details.
Those are coming in episode two of the podcast, which I’ll record right after this Tylenol kicks in.
Marlow smirks on the couch next to her boyfriend. “When word spread in the diner this afternoon, I thought there’s no way. Do you have a secret recording studio in your closet? How did you do that so fast?”
I shrug. “I used my computer. It’s not fancy.
I just need to get the word out.” Because the more people help me, the more likely I am to win this bet.
And I am winning this bet. If I make some money on the side, even better.
“And I might have ordered T-shirts to sell online. If I could put some out in the diner, that would be good. Get the tourists involved.”
My friend shakes her head. “You are a menace when school is out.”
I kick my feet onto the coffee table with a shrug.
“Well, you’re not the only one who works fast.” There’s an unsettling twinkle in Marlow’s eyes now. “Diana and I lined up your first date.”
I fake an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I have a concussion. My doctor has advised me to rest.”
August kicks his feet up on my coffee table across from mine. “You’ll be fine.”
“If you can record a podcast, you can go on one date,” Marlow says with a grin. “And don’t forget our deal. You’re doing this without complaining.”
Ugh. “Fine. When and who?” It’s not technically a complaint; I just sound like a teenager.
“You know what? Forget finding a man who’s good enough for you. With your attitude they won’t be interested. You gotta play fair.” Marlow curls into August’s side, and I try not to notice. “You need to have an open mind—”
“I have an open mind.”
“About something other than sasquatch,” August chimes in.
I laugh. He might not be wrong. “When and who?” I repeat.
Marlow laughs with me. “Friday night, and his name is Chuck.”
“Chuck?” Can I spend the rest of my life saying that name? Absolutely not. That’s strike one.
Marlow nods. “I didn’t want to give him your address, so he’s meeting you at the diner at seven. And you’re not going to nitpick this guy within an inch of his life.”
“I don’t do that—”
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, interrupting me. That has to be my brothers. I reach for it, swiping it open with a grin and anticipating multiple all-caps text messages. Instead, I have two messages from an unknown number. The first text is confusing.
UNKNOWN:
I’m impressed by how elegantly you handled Butterballsy today. I bow to you, Queen of the Forest.
[praise hands emoji]
[trophy emoji]
It takes far too long to jog my memory—possibly due to the minor brain injury—but I finally realize that it’s the text I sent to myself from Adam’s phone. I thought I was being funny, but ten minutes after I sent it, he told me to stay out of the forest like he owns the place. Pshaw.
His most recent text only adds fuel to my fire.
UNKNOWN:
Don’t encourage people to come into the preserve to find Bigfoot. Someone’s going to get hurt.
How does he know I’ve been recruiting help? Unless . . .
Oh, no.
I laugh out loud. Somehow Adam must’ve discovered Squatch Watcher.
ME:
Have I been encouraging people?
I’m making him admit he saw the stuff online, and his discomfort is obvious right away. Three blinking dots on the bottom of my screen disappear and reappear while he forms his response. Good. He can squirm while he explains himself.
Trying to kick me out of the woods I grew up in . . . I gripe internally, updating his contact name while I wait.
“What’s up with the pouty face?” Marlow asks.
I startle. “Nothing.” I drop the phone face down on the couch beside me. It buzzes immediately, and I’m itching to pick it up.
August and Marlow both look at me, then at my phone, which is still humming against the cushion. That must be a phone call. I turn it over subtly so my friends don’t notice. The name Shirtless Adam—plus two flexing biceps emoji—fills the screen. My eyes go wide with disbelief.
He’s calling me? What kind of psychopath calls a person in the middle of a text exchange?
“Who’s that?” Marlow asks.
“No one.” I stand slowly so I don’t fall on my face. The dizziness is abating now that I’m not kung fu fighting any turkeys. “I’ll be right back.”
“Why are you calling me?” I ask in a rushed whisper as I duck into my bedroom.
He clears his throat. “Uh, this is Adam.”
“I know.” I flop onto my bed face down, and the room spins, but only slightly.
“I’m calling because I don’t want you to encourage people to go into the woods.” He sounds like he’s reading a script, and his deep voice is adorably awkward. It makes it hard to stay annoyed with him.
“What makes you think I’m doing that?” I bite my lip, fighting a smile.
There’s silence on his end. “My sister showed me your podcast.”
Intriguing. “How did your sister find it?” I’m fully smiling now, and I sound like it.
Now there’s even more silence, and I have time to wonder where he’s calling from and whether he’s wearing a shirt. What does Adam do in his downtime? I can’t picture him scrolling social media. Does he bench-press downed trees? Oh gosh, I hope so. I smile at the thought.
“It doesn’t matter how Ruth found your podcast. You don’t understand the danger people are in when they go into the woods alone.”
“How do you know they’ll be alone?” I’m splitting hairs, and it is quite enjoyable.
“Stevie.”
His voice is like faraway thunder now—full of concern, irritation, and something else I can’t put a finger on.
A silly spark in my chest makes me hope that he’s not talking about “people” in general.
My heart thrums in my ears. To his credit, his worry sounds genuine.
It’s not about being right. He doesn’t want anyone to get hurt.
I admit, begrudgingly, that this is an admirable concern.
I lower my voice so Marlow and August don’t hear. “I promise, I know how to be safe out there. My brothers have taken me on their sasquatch hunts since I was in diapers.” Do I want Adam to picture me in diapers? Maybe not. I backpedal. “I mean, I was raised in those woods.”
It’s quiet on his end while I listen to the soft tick of the clock on my nightstand. There’s a knock, then the door opens, and Marlow peeks into my room.
“Hey, we’re going to take off,” she announces through the dim light. “Don’t forget. Friday night at seven.”
“Seven. Got it,” I say away from the phone, waving her off. It was sweet of them to check in, but I’m not sure I’ll be upright again today. “Bye, friend.”
Marlow grins, waves, and closes the door behind her.
“What’s Friday night at seven?”
I don’t quite hold back a whine. “I have a date.” I say it the same way someone might announce they’re having a colonoscopy.
Adam chuckles. “Sounds terrible.”
He seems more at ease now, and I take advantage of that by revisiting a question he hasn’t answered. “How did your sister find my podcast?”
He sighs. “I told her about you, and she found you.”
He told his sister about me? Well, now I have a dozen more questions.
Before I can ask any, Adam’s voice is in my ear. “Stevie?”
I shiver. The way he says my name sends goose bumps down my arms. “Yeah?”
“Don’t go into the woods alone.” He pauses. “Please.”
“I’m afraid I must.” My lips curl, anticipating his response.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because of a lot of reasons. Poachers, bears, and moose, for starters. What if you fell again and got—” He groans, and I picture him dragging his hand through his long hair the way he did this morning. “You know what? What if I come with you?”
A throaty laugh escapes before I can stop it—not because the idea is laughable, but because I’m surprised that I want it so much. “What did you say?” I need him to repeat the offer. I hope I didn’t mishear him.
“Never mind. Just be smart,” he mutters. “Please, Carrot Cake.”
There’s a click on his end. He hung up.
Carrot Cake?
There’s no way I heard that right.