Page 39 of Who Let The Wolves Out?

Eyes sharpen. Breath deepens. My stride stretches long and low, a rhythm I could lose myself in.

Because I need to lose myself.

Alice won’t look me in the eye. And now the camp itself is turning into quicksand. And I’m not sure how to fight for something that’s slipping through my hands from two sides.

So I run.

By the time I loop back, the sun’s up and the campers are trickling toward the lake for paddleboard races. I skirt around them like a ghost, ducking behind the bathhouse, yanking on a sweatshirt.

I spend the morning cleaning out the supply shed even though no one asked me to. I organize the ropes, stack the trail guides, restock the fire starters. I scrub the goddamn floor.

Julie finds me mid-mop.

She leans in the doorway, arms crossed, one brow lifted. “You’re nesting. That’s never a good sign.”

I grunt. “Just getting ahead.”

She doesn’t move.

I finally look up. “What?”

“You know what.”

My grip tightens on the mop handle. “No, Julie, I really don’t. Enlighten me.”

She sighs. “Aisla’s report. You heard?”

“Zack heard. Which means I heard.”

Julie’s expression softens. “I didn’t file it.”

“But you didn’t stop it either.”

She walks in slowly. “I haven’t submitted it to the board. It’s sitting in my inbox.”

I stare at her.

“I wanted to talk to you first,” she says. “See how you’re feeling. Hear your side.”

“There’s no side,” I snap. “I shift. I howl. I break a few lawn chairs every full moon. I’m not denying any of that.”

She gives me a long look. “And you also haven’t hurt a single camper. Not even close. You’ve taught them patience, teamwork, bravery—hell, Nolan’s already writing you into his comic book. As ahero.”

I blink.

That part gets me more than I want to admit.

“But,” I say, softer now, “people don’t write reports about heroes, do they?”

Julie exhales. “Aisla’s old-school. She sees liability where I see lived experience.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to be a symbol, Julie. I just want to be a damn counselor.”

“You are,” she says. “And a damn good one.”

I look away.

“Just... don’t run yet,” she says. “Give it a minute.”

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