Chapter Ten
Tamsyn had expected a storm. Which was why she’d been entirely surprised when The Sending had gone exactly according to plan.
Janelle and Frankie had ended up at the bottom, and after the re-vote, Vivian had bid Janelle goodbye.
The camp had seemed quietly relieved. Except, of course, for Frankie, who couldn’t participate in any future reward challenges and was left as vulnerable as a soap bubble in a breeze until the next Sending.
Apparently, many of the other contestants had grown weary of Janelle’s constant complaining about the bugs at camp. This was Outlast Her in the Australian Outback; of course, there were going to be bugs around.
Once everyone had gotten back to camp last night, Abigail had tended to the fire and said, “I literally only wrote her name down because I was getting sick and tired of scooping up every beetle and cricket and escorting them half a mile away where she couldn’t possibly see them, let alone be reminded of them.
” Then she had rolled her eyes. “How did she get that far in Madagascar? Don’t they have hissing cockroaches? ”
Tamsyn, on the other hand, hadn’t really noticed Janelle’s bug tantrums. Not really.
She’d only gone along with voting her off because it had been best for the Red Gum Rebels and also, because frankly, she’d been too busy nurturing her friendship with Isla.
Before The Sending, she’d even braided Isla’s hair like they were twelve-year-olds at summer camp.
The whole thing had been quite distracting. Her fingers had lingered at the nape of Isla’s neck for a second too long, and she could’ve sworn goosebumps had erupted along Isla’s skin. Not that she had time to check because Isla had basically moved away from her then.
Still, the memory made Tamsyn shiver even though it was a pleasant seventy degrees outside. The wind that had howled earlier this evening had stopped, and the stars were out. Tamsyn could see them glittering across the sky from where she was wedged in between Petra and Barra.
Everyone was asleep. Everyone except for Tamsyn, who, despite being exhausted, was wide awake.
She’d offered up her side of the mattress to Aggie, who had complained of a bad back the entire walk back to camp, and frankly, she wished she hadn’t.
The ground was terribly hard. No wonder Aggie was suffering from back pain.
Tamsyn rolled onto her side and came face to face with Barra’s open-mouthed snore, which sounded like someone sawing through wood. Then she shifted and turned and tried to get comfortable, but that was not possible.
Tamsyn lay there for another ten seconds, maybe twenty, and stared intently at the dim outline of the shelter roof before giving up and shuffling out of the shelter.
She strolled toward the creek, her body finding the path automatically.
Once she got to the water, she lowered herself onto the packed dirt and flattened her bare toes against the cool earth.
Then she circled her arms around her bent knees and tipped her head back.
Out here, the sky didn’t just sparkle; it spilled like diamonds falling out of a treasure chest.
There was a sudden creak.
“It’s just me,” Isla whispered as she plonked herself down beside Tamsyn. She sat close. Too close. Close enough that Tamsyn could feel the warmth of Isla’s shoulder like she was a human space heater. “I saw you sneaking out of the shelter.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” Tamsyn replied.
“Escaping then,” Isla corrected, smiling.
Even in the thin wash of moonlight, Tamsyn was painfully aware of Isla’s full and soft-looking lips.
An image of a ripe plum split open at the seam swooped into her mind so clearly that her stomach flipped.
Then she realized a friend was absolutely not supposed to be comparing another friend’s lips to juicy fruit.
In fact, a friend probably shouldn’t be looking at her lips at all.
“I miss the teepee,” Tamsyn said, dragging her gaze forward.
The creek moved in slow, glassy ribbons under the moonlight.
Tamsyn considered dipping her toes, but nothing was tantalizing about wet, dirt-covered feet in the shelter.
“I hope Aggie will let me have my side of the mattress back tomorrow night.”
Isla laughed and then, just as quickly, clamped her hand over her mouth. Tamsyn would be surprised to think anyone could hear Isla’s laughter over Barra’s chainsaw snores.
“I don’t know why I thought you’d be good at the whole roughing it thing,” Isla said.
“It’s the cowboy boots,” Tamsyn replied. “They create false expectations.” Then she nudged a small stone loose with the tip of her shoe and watched it tumble toward the water. “I know I shouldn’t complain. I’ve slept on the ground plenty of times. I’m a seasoned ground sleeper.”
Isla frowned, and Tamsyn chuckled softly.
“I’ve done a lot of multi-day hikes,” Tamsyn explained. “The longer, the better. There’s just something about walking all day until your legs feel like they’re not yours anymore and falling asleep the second your head hits your tiny blow-up mattress. Kind of like after a challenge day.”
“So you’ve done the PCT?” Isla asked, stretching her legs straight and folding over them until her fingers hooked easily around her toes.
Which surprised Tamsyn. Not the part about Isla’s flexibility.
But the part where Isla had just mentioned one of the greatest ultra-distance hikes in the world.
Tamsyn didn’t even realize she was frowning until Isla said, “The Pacific Crest Trail. It’s a 2650-mile hike from—”
“I know what it is,” Tamsyn interrupted, and then nearly asked Isla how she knew what it was, but then stopped herself.
Isla was a model, yes, but that didn’t make her two-dimensional.
She had layers, many of them by the looks of things.
And interests beyond the runway. Though Tamsyn wasn’t going to lie, she’d expected those interests to be matcha tea and reformer Pilates, and an expensive skincare routine she narrated on social media.
Not snowpack levels in the Sierra and desert water caches.
“Well, I’ve been dying to hike it for years,” Isla said, completely unaware that Tamsyn had just judged her like the cover of a book.
“Northbound. From Mexico to Canada. It usually takes about five months, and that’s if you’re putting in decent mileage every day.
I just haven’t managed to get a gap that long in my work schedule. ”
“Very few people do,” Tamsyn said. Even as a teacher, it wasn’t exactly achievable. Yes, she technically had the long summer break everyone romanticized, and yes, she probably could hike it in three months if she pushed twenty-five, maybe thirty miles a day. But that wouldn’t be enjoyable at all.
“Maybe we should walk it together,” Isla said.
“Two years from now, April 15th, we can meet at the southern terminus at Campo. We can get through the desert before it’s unbearably hot and hit the Sierra after the snow starts melting.
Then we’ll go into Oregon by late July, through the Cascades, and reach Washington by early September.
Three or so weeks later we’ll get to Manning Park. ”
Tamsyn couldn’t believe her ears. Five days ago Isla had flat-out lied about them hooking up and even pretended she didn’t know Tamsyn.
And now she was inviting her along for a five-month hike that would require them to spend every day together, sweaty and sunburnt, rationing snacks and arguing over mileage while they filtered questionable water from questionable sources.
Which, technically, they were already doing now.
But still, five months was a lifetime. So too was two years from now.
Maybe this friendship wouldn’t even be a friendship then.
Maybe they’d lose touch after the show and Isla would always just be the hookup Tamsyn had, turned friend until the show ended, and—this was hopeful—Tamsyn had won the title of Ultimate Outlast Her.
Tamsyn blinked. “Did you really just invite me along for a hike two years from now?”
Isla’s cheeks went pink. Or at least pink-adjacent in the moonlight.
“No,” Isla said, looking entirely flabbergasted. “Of course not. I was just joking.”
“Joking?” Tamsyn asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes.” Isla let out an awkward laugh that sounded way too forced.
“You know, the same way people say they’re going to lose weight in the new year, or stop drinking wine on Monday, or start getting out into the dating field even though they’ve got a very nice vibrator in their bedside table, and they’ve forgotten what human contact feels like.
I’m talking about other people, not me.” She then dragged her fingers down her cheeks, visibly mortified. “I was just joking.”
Tamsyn wanted to shush Isla with a kiss, because, damn, she was being so adorable.
But friends didn’t kiss friends. So, she settled for a shoulder bump.
“Sorry,” she said with a teasing lilt in her voice.
“You can’t take the invitation back. I’ve already noted it in my mental journal.
” She tapped her temple. “I’ll be showing up April 15th with my trusty backpack, ultralight gear, and all the ramen and tuna wraps your heart desires. ”
Isla rolled her eyes. Then she leaned sideways toward Tamsyn, and Tamsyn’s heart felt like it was about to leap out of her chest. Not just because of the closeness, but because Isla’s hand had slid down to the dirt between them and somehow their fingers were overlapping.
Tamsyn pretended to be interested in the sky. Very interested. She studied the scatter of stars and tried to embrace the silence between them, but she could only do that for a minute or less before one of her fingers twitched.
Thankfully, Isla pulled her hand back and brushed dirt off her palm as if that had been the plan all along.
“So, a high school teacher,” she said. It wasn’t a question, but it sounded like one.
Not that Tamsyn hadn’t expected the topic to come up in conversation after Vivian had mentioned it at The Sending.
Most people were shocked when they found out she spent her weekdays teaching natural selection to sixteen-year-olds.
The day she’d shown up at Eastbrook High, Charley Heyns, the principal, thought she was a student and had asked her if she was lost.
“I know,” Tamsyn said, nodding. “Sometimes I can’t believe it either. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, and I find it very satisfying, but I often wonder, what if I’d done something different?”
“Like what?”
Tamsyn shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe a doctor or a lawyer. The President of the United States. You know, dream big or go home.” Instead of running the country, she was confiscating vape pens and explaining why TikTok was, in fact, not a credible scientific source.
Sometimes Tamsyn wondered if that was why she kept signing up for extreme things like skydiving, mountain marathons, and scuba lessons.
It was probably because she was bored. Or worse.
.. predictable. Her mother was a high school science teacher.
Her dad had been the principal at Red River Prep in Canton before he retired with a plaque and a standing ovation.
Education wasn’t just a job in the family; it was practically a hereditary condition.
Tamsyn had gone to Southern Methodist University in Dallas and had earned her degree in biology before taking what felt like the easiest, most obvious next step.
Certification, then classroom.
“I always knew I wanted to model,” Isla said, looking at her feet.
She wiggled her toes, which, like the rest of her, were perfectly engineered.
“I used to spend hours lying on my bed swiping through fashion magazines, wishing I was as glamorous as the women in them.” Then she smiled, and Tamsyn swore she could see a glint in her eyes.
“And it was also the one thing my sister would never be able to do. She’s five foot two on a generous day. ”
Tamsyn tried to summon a clear image of Mallory. She remembered dyed blonde hair, pearls around her neck, and a deep plum dress. But she couldn’t remember how tall she was. Just that she looked absolutely nothing like Isla.
“But I’m thinking of retiring.”
“Retiring?” Tamsyn asked, frowning. “Aren’t you too young to retire?
” She imagined Isla sitting at a small round coffee table, morning sun streaming in through double-hung windows, holding up the paper in one hand and a pen in the other while she carefully filled in the Sudoku.
Tamsyn’s dad did exactly that every single morning.
Then the obvious hit her.
“Oh, you mean retiring from modeling?” Tamsyn said slowly.
Isla was just about to reply. Her lips were parting when a shout sounded loud and clear from the teepee.
Aggie came running out of the tent screaming at the top of her lungs, “SNAKE!”