Chapter 74
Summer's POV
The bus lurched to a stop in the gravel parking lot, brakes hissing. I pressed my forehead against the cool window, watching pine trees sway in the November wind.
"Alright, people!" Ms. Thompson's voice cut through the chatter. "Grab your bags. Let's move."
I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood, my legs stiff from three hours of sitting. Kieran was already on his feet, reaching for his backpack in the overhead compartment. His hoodie rode up slightly, exposing a strip of skin above his jeans.
I looked away, face burning.
The air outside was sharp and clean, carrying the scent of pine needles and damp earth. Maples blazed orange and gold against a backdrop of evergreens. In the distance, mountains rose dark and jagged, their peaks touching low clouds.
"It's beautiful," Mia breathed beside me.
I nodded, pulling my jacket tighter. The forest felt alive in a way Boston never did. No car horns. No sirens. Just wind and rustling leaves and the distant call of a crow.
"This way!" Ms. Thompson marched toward a cluster of log cabins scattered among the trees. Smoke curled from stone chimneys. "Girls in Cabin 4, boys in Cabin 5."
I hoisted my duffel bag higher and followed. Kieran walked ahead with Logan, his shoulders hunched against the cold. He glanced back once, caught my eye, then quickly looked away.
My stomach fluttered.
An older woman emerged from the main lodge as we approached. She wore a flannel shirt and jeans, her gray hair pulled back in a braid. Her face was weathered but kind.
"Welcome to White Mountain," she said, her New England accent thick. "I'm Mrs. Walker. Been running this camp for thirty years."
She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small paper bag filled with apple slices. "From our own orchard. Late harvest this year—the frost makes them sweeter. Anyone want to try?"
Behind me, Ashley whispered to Zoe. "My mom says you shouldn't eat stuff from strangers. Who knows if she even washed them."
I froze, hand halfway extended. A flash of memory hit me—this exact moment in my first life. I'd declined politely, uncomfortable with the offering. The disappointment in Mrs. Walker's eyes had stayed with me for years.
Not this time.
I stepped forward and took a few slices. "Thank you."
Mrs. Walker's face lit up. "Sweet, aren't they?"
I bit into one. The flavor burst on my tongue, honey-sweet with a crisp tang from the cold. "Really sweet."
She patted my shoulder, her wrinkled hand warm. "Good girl."
---
Cabin 4 smelled like cedar and old wool blankets. Eight bunk beds lined the walls. A stone fireplace dominated one corner, logs already stacked beside it.
"This is so rustic," Ashley said, wrinkling her nose. "Like, aggressively rustic."
Mia dropped her bag on the lower bunk near the window. "I think it's cozy."
I chose the bunk across from her and started unpacking. In my first life, I'd hated this trip. No WiFi. No hot water. Eight girls crammed in one room like sardines.
But now, at seventeen again, I felt different. My body was young and strong. The simplicity felt real instead of punishing. Even the lumpy mattress and scratchy blanket seemed like small details in something bigger.
"You're in a good mood," Mia observed.
I smiled. "Better than I expected."
---
At two o'clock, Ms. Thompson gathered us for the stream trail hike. Three miles through the forest, following a winding creek.
The trail was muddy from last night's rain. Leaves slicked the path, making every step treacherous. Within twenty minutes, a light drizzle started.
"Of course it's raining," Ashley muttered, pulling up her hood.
I didn't care. I splashed through puddles in my waterproof boots, watching red salamanders dart between rocks. At a small waterfall, I pulled out my phone and took pictures with Mia—both of us soaked, grinning like idiots.
"Eighty-three photos," Mia said, scrolling through. "You're insane."
"Memories," I said, laughing as raindrops slid down my nose.
By the time we got back to camp at four, everyone was exhausted and dripping. My hair hung in wet ropes. Mud caked my jeans up to the knees.
"Hot showers," Zoe groaned. "Please tell me there are hot showers."
"Lukewarm at best," Mrs. Walker called cheerfully from the lodge porch.
---
At five, Ms. Thompson gathered us in the clearing between cabins. "Dinner plans! Anyone who wants steak and roasted potatoes needs to complete the fire-building challenge."
She gestured to a pile of supplies—flint and steel, kindling, logs. "You have thirty minutes. Groups of four. If you can't start a fire, it's cold sandwiches for you."
The boys rushed forward, already arguing over strategy. I watched Kieran crouch near a fire pit, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he examined the wood.
My chest tightened.
"Summer?" Mia touched my arm. "You okay?"
I nodded quickly. "Let's find our group."
We ended up with Ashley and Zoe, who immediately started complaining. "This is impossible. Everything's wet."
"We just need dry kindling," I said, kneeling to sift through the pile. "The inner bark should be okay."
Ashley gave me a look. "Since when do you know about fire-building?"
I didn't answer. My hands moved automatically, selecting the driest pieces, arranging them in a teepee structure the way I'd learned in my first life. That camping trip had taught me more than I'd realized.
Mia struck the flint. Sparks flew, but the tinder wouldn't catch. "Come on," she whispered. "Please."
I leaned closer, blowing gently on the tiny ember. It glowed brighter, then died.
"Fifteen minutes!" Ms. Thompson called.
"Forget it," Ashley said, standing up. "I'm getting a sandwich."
Zoe followed her. "Yeah, this is dumb."
Mia looked at me. "Want to give up?"
I stared at the fire pit. My arms ached from carrying wood. My elbow throbbed where I'd knocked it against a rock—a dark bruise blooming on my pale skin.
"One more try," I said.
Mia rebuilt the teepee while I found smaller twigs, tucking them inside my jacket to warm them with body heat. When I pulled them out, they were barely damp.
"Okay," I said. "Now."
She struck the flint. I cupped my hands around the spark, protecting it from the wind. The tinder caught. Flames licked up the kindling.
"It's working!" Mia breathed. "Don't move. Don't breathe."
A gust of wind swept through the clearing. The flames guttered and died.
Mia slumped. "Five minutes left. We should just—"
"No." I grabbed the flint. My hands shook from exhaustion, but I positioned the striker again. "Come on. Just a little spark."
I struck once. Twice. Three times. Finally, a bright spark landed on the tinder. It glowed red.
Then another gust of wind hit, and it went out.
The timer buzzed.
I sat back on my heels, staring at the cold fire pit. All that effort for nothing.
---
The sun was setting when I heard footsteps behind me. I was still sitting by the dead fire, too tired to move. Mud streaked my arms and legs. My face felt grimy.
"Summer?"
I looked up. Kieran stood there, holding a portable grill with glowing coals inside. He'd succeeded. Of course he had.
"You guys made it," I said, trying to smile. My voice came out flat.
His eyes swept over me—the mud, the bruise on my elbow, the exhaustion in my face. Something shifted in his expression.
"Mosquitoes are bad here," he said quietly. "Pull your pant legs down."
I blinked, then looked down. I'd rolled my cuffs up hours ago. Without thinking, I tugged them back down, smoothing the fabric over my ankles.
It felt natural. Like I'd been taking his advice for years.
Behind me, Mia cleared her throat. "Okay, I'll leave you two to... whatever this is."
I felt my face go hot. Kieran's ears turned red. He cleared his throat and looked away, but not before I caught the smallest hint of a smile.