Beside

22 - flames (part 2)

"Fox, you shouldn't have pushed Jackson today."

"He said something mean about you."

"What he say?"

"Don't worry about it.

"But you're in trouble."

"Don't care."

"Fox, please just—."

"I. Don't. Care."

"..."

ᖴO᙭

Cam's making more hotdogs now, shaking off the irritation. The smell of charred meat cuts through the quiet. She loads the plate with enough food for everyone, and Whitney slides off her seat and scoots closer, her face lit by the flames.

She grabs a hotdog, breaks off a piece, and offers it to Charlie. He takes it eagerly, licking her fingers.

"Careful with him," I mutter. "He'll steal the whole plate if you let him."

She smiles, feeding Charlie more. "Did you know Jack Russells were originally bred for fox hunting? They could chase something for miles and never get tired."

Noah raises a brow at me. "Fox hunting, huh."

I roll my eyes. "Ha."

Whitney nods. "They're superiorly intelligent, and they can dig tunnels faster than most dogs." She grins, giving Charlie another piece. "He's a little gentleman."

Charlie licks her hand again and sprawls out near the fire, happy as can be.

A spring wind blows through the trees above, shadows lurking behind tree trunks not daring to come closer.

I'm still pretending not to lose my mind watching over the girl in my lap.

Cam's still staring at that damn tree stump. And then, breaking the silence, her voice cracks. "Whitney... I'm sorry."

Everyone freezes.

Whitney, who had been feeding Charlie another piece of hotdog, stops mid-motion and blinks.

"For what I said to Walker." She's choking on the words, her breath stuttering. I've known Cam long enough to recognize the signs—she doesn't want anyone to see her cry.

"Camila," Noah says softly, leaning closer. "Hey..."

But Cam shakes her head, pushing on. "I shouldn't have snapped like that. I'm just... protective, I guess. I care about my people, and I can be judgmental, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Her eyes flick up to Whitney, and I can see the pain there, the regret. "Walker's a good guy. Right?"

Whitney is quiet for a long moment. The fire crackles between them, and all of us just watch.

"I grew up in foster care."

The forest seems to freeze. Everyone stills. Even Charlie, who had been sniffing the ground beside her, stops to look up.

I don't know if anyone else knew this about her. Hell, I didn't know. Chris babbled on about Whitney during that calculus class I took her to, but never this.

Whitney's eyes don't lift from the fire, her hand patting Charlie's head. "By the time I got placed in my last foster home, I was already... well, nothing stays."