Page 117 of Puck Your Feelings

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I deflate a little. "It's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" Groover says, and there's understanding in his voice that makes me want to crawl under the couch and die.

"Look," I say, rubbing my hand over my face. "I appreciate... whatever this is, but—“

"Well, whatever it is, it ends now," Wall says. "Because you're moving out."

I blink. "What?"

"You snore," Wall says. "Like a chainsaw having an asthma attack."

"I do not!"

"And you leave your wet towels on the floor," Petrov adds.

"I picked that up!"

"The point is," Wall says, "you can't stay here anymore."

I look around the room, hoping to find at least one sympathetic face. There isn't one.

"Where am I supposed to go?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"Back to your cabin," Washington says. "Where your roommate is."

"Kane," I say flatly.

"Kane," everyone echoes.

"This is mutiny," I mutter.

"This is friendship," Groover corrects. "Now go get your shit and fix this."

I glare at each of them in turn. "Some friends you are."

"The best," Wall agrees. "Now get out of my cabin."

I stomp to the corner where I'd stashed my duffel bag, shoving my clothes in haphazardly. "Fine. But when Kane murders me in my sleep, I'm haunting all of you. Especially you, Wall."

"I'll leave out some chains for you to rattle," he says.

"And you," I point at Mateo. "I expected better from the supposed adult in the room."

Mateo shrugs. "Sometimes the tribe needs to unite against the stubborn idiot for his own good."

"Your shirt is right," I grumble. "You are all idiots."

***

Kane

THE CABIN FEELS haunted.

Not with actual ghosts, but with the ghost of what could have been. What was, for about five minutes, before I took a sledgehammer to it like the world's biggest loser.

I sit on the edge of my bunk, staring into space. Becker's been gone for less than three days, but the cabin already feels wrong without him. Too quiet. Too still. Too goddamn tidy.

Actually, that one’s a lie.

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