Jasper wakes me up early the next morning. "It's almost seven," he says, over the sound of Levi snoring in his bed. "You should go before the counselor arrives."

I drag myself out of a pile of blankets and change into my clothes from last night. They're still half-damp and smell like a mixture of sweat and mud, but I'd prefer to spending the day in disgusting clothes than going back to the cabin to get fresh ones— and risk running into Ronan in the process. I don't know how I'm going to face my roommate ever again. How the hell am I supposed to sleep next to somebody who I can't even stomach looking in the eye?

"Hurry," says Jasper urgently. "I think I see Maria coming."

I move towards the door, but as I open it, I turn back and pause for a moment. "Thank you, Jasper. I know that you broke a lot of rules to help me out last night. You're a good friend, and I promise to not kick you out of my cabin like an asshole again."

It looks like Jasper is smiling at me— or maybe that's just the way the sunlight hitting his face. "See you at breakfast, Finn."

I give him a wave before striding down the dirt path towards the Mess Hall.

It's seven on the dot when I arrive at the Mess Hall, so unsurprisingly, I'm the only person there. I eat a quick breakfast of toast and strawberries, and then I head to the bathroom to freshen up. There's always a spare tube of toothpaste lying around, so I brush my teeth with my finger, desperate to get rid of that gross taste, stale taste that always rises in the back of my throat when I stay up too late and don't get enough sleep. Afterward, I splash some cold water on my face, then head to my first activity.

I've made a habit of looking over my schedule at the beginning of the week and memorizing a rough outline of my it; a habit that's especially handy now that I'm trying to avoid Huron Cabin at all costs. I remember, clearly, that I'm supposed to meet by the docks at nine this morning. My recollection of what we're going to be doing there isn't as clear— it doesn't matter to me, as long as Ronan isn't in the same activity. I would be content with swimming laps across the lake if it meant my roommate wasn't there bragging about his seven minutes with Becca.

(Ugh. I can't even think about last night without feeling sick.)

I have some free time before activities start, so I decide to go to the mini-library, which is almost always empty. The only camper there is Emily, and she's too busy twirling her nose ring and flipping through a dated MAD magazine to notice me. Later, Wolsey pops up in the old newspaper collection, and he gives me a quick once-over before exiting with an armful of dated periodicals. I feign interest in a spot of mud on my elbow, not wanting a repeat of our bizarre conversation last night. Then I grab a book on Alaska ecosystems and try to focus until quarter past eight. 

Then I walk to the docks.

I run into a few other campers along the way, something that would usually put me in a good mood if I wasn't still feeling angry about what happened last night. I can't focus on small talk and pleasantries, not when I keep seeing Ronan and Becca walking out into the rain together in my head...

Selena bounds across the grass and screeches to a halt at my side, jolting me out of my thoughts. "Hey, Fish! Want to be canoe partners?"

"What?"

"We're canoeing today. Says so on the schedule. Want to be partners?"

"Oh. Um, I'll have to think about it...."

Selena gives me a skeptical look. "It's not rocket science, Fish. And you can take me word on that— I know rocket science."

"How do you even know we're canoeing today?"

"Were you listening to a word I just said? It says so on our schedules."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"Are you feeling okay, Finn?"

"Uh... yeah. I think."

Selena sighs in exasperation. "Boys!" she exclaims, before flouncing away to join her friends.

I don't get it. How do girls seem to understand us so much when I can't even get so much as a reading on Becca Fisher?

Life can be so unfair sometimes.

I make my way over to the docks. The wooden planks are rough and prickly, making me glad that I'm wearing a pair of thick-soled sneakers and not some flimsy flip-flops. Beneath my feet, the black water of the lake glitters through the cracks in the wooden planks, its wind-churned surface looking like so many coal-black diamonds. On a warm summer's day like this, the cold water seems delightfully refreshing, and for a moment forget everything the counselors told us about the dangerous undercurrents in the lake and seriously consider jumping in.

"Earth to Finn," I hear a voice say. I tear my eyes away from the shimmering water. This time, it's Jasper. He looks concerned. "You doing okay, buddy? You seem sort of... out of it."

"Just tired, I guess," I reply. It's not hard to make my voice sound believably weary. "How about you? I know I woke you up pretty late last night."

"Don't worry about it, I wasn't even asleep. Levi's the one you should be watching out for. Oh, look, here he comes now." Jasper casts a furtive glance at his roommate, who still looks half-asleep and as grumpy as a wet cat. "I better dash before he tries to give me another one of his I'm-not-mad-just-disappointed lectures."

He slips away into the crowd of campers.

My gaze returns to the lake. The far-away mountains are beckoning to me on the opposite shore, and it feels like my brain isn't fully connected to the rest of my body. I'm drifting, floating... my feet are still planted firmly on the splintering docks, but my mind has sailed across the lake to join the rain clouds accumulating on the horizon. I can see everything from this bird's eye view— the snow-capped mountain tops, the densely-packed forests. They look so ancient and wild that I can't help but wonder what stories the trees would tell me if they could speak... Or what stories I would tell them, if they could listen.

"Good morning, campers!"

Owen's voice jerks me out of my daze as quickly as a rubber band snapping against my wrist. Around me, the other campers let out a collective groan as the counselor strides towards us, decked out in a complete outfit of every water safety equipment known to man. His yellow life jacket is neon enough to blind, and the way he's clutching a wooden paddle in his hand makes him look like he walked straight out of an L.L. Bean advertisement.

"Welcome to your first activity of the day: canoeing." One of the campers— possibly Matt Mernan— boos, but Owen just continues to smile blindly at the crowd. On the other side of the dock, Selena catches my eye and gives me a knowing look, then mouths the words I told you so. "We're going to be paddling out into the center of the lake and back, each in teams of three. Now, let's talk about safety!"

Owen begins lecturing us about the proper uses of paddles and I immediately stop paying attention. There's nothing I need to learn— I already know how to use a paddle and steer a boat. Back in Indiana, I used to go canoeing all the time with Sarah— before the Twins happened, of course, and we actually had free time to do things without lugging the two parasites behind. Sometimes, on the weekends, dad would accompany us, and he'd teach us so many fishing tricks that my brain would be aching from the information overload when we finally paddled back to shore.

"Canoeing is a partner sport," Owen continues. This catches my attention— mainly because I really don't want partner to be synonymous with roommate. Quickly, I scan the crowd for a head of spiky black hair, but there are too many kids to tell. This must be one of the activities that the entire camp participates in.

The counselor transfers his demonstration paddle to his left hand to better tug at various straps on his life jacket with the right. "As I mentioned before, I'll be assigning three people per boat. Cooperation and teamwork are crucial to your success, so I recommend that you make friends with the people on your boat— otherwise you'll be going around in circles for hours!" He laughs at this as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. Next to me, Giselle rolls her eyes and mutters the word lame under her breath.

Hoping to alleviate some of the tension from last night, I lean over and remark, "Owen is definitely one of those people who think they're destined to be a famous comedian but can't even make it to the punchline of a knock-knock joke."

Giselle isn't amused by my observations. "Oh, so we're talking to each other again?"

"Did we ever stop?"

"Yeah. Last night, after you kicked me out of your cabin and into the pouring rain."

"I didn't mean—"

"Whatever, Fish." Giselle turns her back on me and struts away into the crowd.

I let out a long sigh. A lot of bridges got burned last night, and I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to rebuild them all. Maybe it's not even worth it to try.

"Karen and I will take the motorboat out to the center of the lake. It's your job to meet us there. Use the whistle on your life jacket to call for help, if you need it." Just to make sure we get it, Owen toots his whistle a few times, then gives us all thumbs-ups. "Hopefully, none of you will."

Karen blows her whistle so hard a few campers clamp their hands over their ears. "I'll take it from here, Owen. Everybody line up. I'll be counting you imbeciles off into groups of three, so please try to pay attention."

I shuffle into my place with the others as Karen counts us off. She assigns me to a canoe roped off at the end of the dock. A weight lifts from my shoulder as I see Becca striding to a boat on the opposite side. I don't know if it's good or bad that we don't have the chance to discuss what happened last night. Part of me wants to talk to her about it, but the rest of me just wants to avoid her forever and scream endlessly into the void.

I try to put Becca out of my mind as I walk over to my canoe. Maybe, after everything that happened last night, the universe will decide to take pity on me and give me two reasonable boat partners.

Unfortunately, I have no such luck.

My heart sinks to the bottom of the lake as Ronan strides across the dock towards my canoe, his crooked grin a reminder of everything I want to forget. Unbelievable. Out of all the thirty-two people at this camp, I have to get assigned to share a boat with the one person I'm trying my hardest to avoid?

Feeling irrationally competitive, I speed up so that I get to the canoe first. Ronan shows up a few seconds later, his black hair spikier than usual, and his smile promising nothing less than a sequel to our fight last night.

"Enjoy your night alone?" I ask icily.

"Saying yes would be an understatement. And what about you, Fish? Did you have a fun time sleeping in the woods?"

I scowl at him. "I spent the night at Jasper's."

"Don't let the Director find out," Ronan remarks lightly.

"Hey, guys. I think I'm in your group."

We both look up. Standing a few feet away is Emily, her expression one of dull dissatisfaction. She fiddles with her nose ring as she surveys Ronan, me, the canoe, and the aura of steadily growing anger surrounding the scene. Her arched eyebrows tell me she's not impressed by what she sees.

Ronan gives her a quick once-over. Then he proclaims, "Welcome to the shit-show," and drops nimbly into the boat.

I roll my eyes at him and hop down after him. Emily quickly takes the bench in the back— the one as far away from Ronan as possible— which leaves me sandwiched in the middle between them.

There's a dull thud as Ronan's life-jacket lands on the bottom of the boat. He shows no intention of picking it up again. "I'll be steering," he says factually. "Let's go."

"Not happening," I counter, tightening a few more straps on my life jacket. The fabric reeks of lake water and is still damp around the armpits— but unlike Ronan, I keep it on. (I value my safety. He can drown for all I care.) "Or did you forget that the last thing you steered you crashed into a telephone pole?"

"That was a Cadillac. This is a canoe. They're completely different."

I shake my head. "No. No way. I'm not letting you steer."

Ronan gives me a dark look that says, stop disagreeing with me before I forcibly remove one of your limbs. If this had been any other day, I would've taken one look at the warning on his face and backed off. But now, the more I see his face, the more I think about last night, and the more disagreeable I become. "I don't care if you trust me or not. I'm obviously the better navigator, so back the fuck off."

"And how did you know that? Did you attend a professional steering university? Do you have a license in steering canoes? Please, enlighten me. I'd love to know where you learned such useful skills."

"I sense some animosity between the two," notes Emily.

"Really? You must be a fucking physic."

Emily rolls her eyes at him in disdain. "Look, as much as I'd like to watch you two keep arguing like an old married couple, we're going to get in trouble if we don't start paddling. So, why don't you both switch off— Ronan can steer first, and Finn can steer on the way back. You know, compromise."

"No," Ronan and I say in unison.

"C'mon, guys. Don't be—"

"No," we say, more forcibly this time.

Emily's ensuing eye roll is more scathing than a cup of freshly brewed coffee. "Fine. Have it your way. I hope we fucking capsize."

"A man can dream," Ronan mutters.

Angrily, I fold my arms across my chest and fix Ronan with what I hope is an intimidating look. "I'm not in the mood to make compromises today. You can keep being an asshole, but I'm not letting you steer this boat. And that's final."

"Who made you our fucking leader?" he demands. "Last time I checked, the Director was still the Director, and the counselors were still counselors. You're nothing but a camper. I'm said I'm steering, so I'm fucking steering. Let's go!

I stick my paddle into the lake, splashing water across the hull of the canoe. "Last time I checked, you were still a camper, too."

Ronan gives me a look that says he isn't afraid to steer his paddle into my throat, while I glare back, debating whether I should scream at him some more, splash him with water, or ditch the activity altogether. Of course, that's when Owen decides to show up.

"Everything okay here? You three should probably be heading off soon. Most of the other teams have already left."

Emily flashes me a pointed look. "Owen's right, Finn. We should go."

I can already tell that this isn't a battle I'm going to win— Ronan is way better at manipulating adults than me— but that doesn't make me any less bitter about losing it. "Fine," I grind out. "Let's go, then."

"That's the spirit," Owen says cheerfully. "Have fun out there, guys!"

"Oh, we will," Ronan replies. He flashes me a smile that doesn't quite touch his eyes, then dips his paddle into the water and maneuvers us away from the dock.

I slam my hands down on my paddle and channel my anger into pushing the canoe out into the center of the lake. Black waves smack against the hull of our boat as we glide across the water, passing the rest of the campers still struggling to gain control of their boats. Some of the canoes haven't even succeeded in steering away from the dock, while others have managed only to do a few circles. But Emily and I work out a good paddling routine, and Ronan isn't total shit at steering, so we're the first ones to make it to the center of the lake.

I use my free hand to wipe the sweat off my brow, the sun feeling hotter than usual in the cerulean Alaskan sky. I'm not used to pushing myself so hard with a paddle. When I used to go canoeing with Sarah, we'd just drift aimlessly around the lake, drinking cherry Kool-Aid and eating sandwiches that mom packed for us.

Those were simpler times. Back then, I didn't have to worry about roommates, or girls, or sisters that decided to elope with some random English dude. I didn't have to worry about anything at all. My life was good— simple, but good. I'd give anything to go back.

Unfortunately, time travel only exists in Marty McFly's universe, not mine; and no matter how hard I wish I could return to being a kid, I'm still stuck here in Alaska. I peer over my shoulder, hoping to ground myself with a glimpse of the docks— but they're gone, swallowed by an impenetrable grey mist. I forget how long it took for us to reach the center of the lake. It must have been at least thirty minutes— maybe more. Another droplet of sweat drips down my nose. Paddling back to shore is going to be miserable.

And then a voice echoes out across the black water, making me flinch. "Good job!" shouts the disembodied voice, followed shortly by the appearance of the motorboat, drifting lazily out of the mist. Owen rewards with a thumb-up from the bow of the boat. "We're still waiting on the rest of the group, so you three can just drift around for a bit. Isn't it such a beautiful day out?"

I glance over at Ronan, who's leaned back and relaxing against the rim of the boat. His black eyes are shuttered close, but he doesn't look very peaceful. I can almost see storm clouds brewing above his head.

"Yeah, I'm feeling just peachy," Emily pipes up, her septum piercing glinting like a diamond in the sun. "Life couldn't get any better!"

Owen laughs cheerfully, and the motorboat roars away.

I'm trying my best not to look at my roommate, but somehow, he manages to make eye contact. "If you're looking for a sequel to our fight from last night, it's not going to happen," he says coolly. "I'm really not in the mood."

I set his paddle down. Loudly. "Not in the mood to insult my hometown or ridicule my choice in girls? That's a surprise. I guess it means we're also going to have to find something else to do to pass the time."

"Are you offering up suggestions?"

"We could play some sort of game," Emily says. "Never Have I Ever, maybe."

"No," I say, so viciously that she blinks at me, stunned. "No more games."

"Someone's in a bad mood," she remarks.

Ronan sighs dramatically. "That would be an understatement."

Anger bubbles up inside my chest, as hot and sulfuric as a geyser. It takes all of my self-restraint to grit my teeth together and not scream the words I've been holding in since last night.

"No more games," I repeat. "And that's final."