Silver Horizons (Silver Horizons #1)

Silver Horizons | 7

"The more we lose, the more we become the survivors." – Carrie Ryan, The Dead-Tossed Waves

 

The next morning, Forest was taking extra care in ignoring me. He would only speak to me if he absolutely had to, and he avoiding me at all costs. I got that he wasn’t too happy about me losing the car, but he didn’t have to be a jerk about it. If he were the one who lost the car, he wouldn’t want us to ignore him, would him?

            No, he wouldn’t.

            “Elijah,” Kyle said, waving me over. He was standing across the campsite with one of the tents in his hand. “Look at this.” He stuck his hand into the tent and pulled out a cell phone.

            “Wow,” I said, surprised. Who had a cell phone? Annie? “Whose tent was this?”

            Kyle looked at me with a grim expression on his face. “Forest’s.”

            That changed things. Forest had a cell phone the whole time, and he didn’t tell us. Kyle and I trashed our cell phones in the beginning because we discovered that they didn’t work. Does this mean Forest’s cell phone works or was he keeping it because of pictures or something?

            “Wow,” I said again. “Why do you think he still has it?”

            “Beats me.” Kyle sighed. He handed the phone to me, and I took the time to inspect it further. It was weird that he would still have it, unless he was waiting for service to come back. I was pretty sure that it was never coming back.

            Unsurprisingly, Forest had one of those new smartphones that did just about anything. He was such a spoiled brat. I turned it over, didn’t see anything interesting, and flipped it back to the front. I clicked the lock screen button on the top of the phone, and it lit up, coming to life. I nearly dropped it in shock, but I regained my composure before it left my hands.

            Holding a phone after such a long time was weird, but the feeling didn’t last long because it was snatched from my hands. Looking up, I saw Forest’s glaring face.

            “What the hell?” he questioned. He shoved the phone into his pants pocket and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you have my—I mean, this?”

            He probably thought I hadn’t caught his slipup, but I did. “So it’s yours,” I concluded, raising my eyebrows at him. “Why—“

            “No,” he snapped. “It isn’t mine.”

            “Then whose is it?”

            “I don’t know.”

            I started walking away and said, “I think it’s yours.”

            He followed me. “Well it isn’t.”

            I walked over to my tent and started folding it up. Earlier this morning, we decided that we were going to bring along the necessities and pack light since we didn’t have a car anymore. Ironically, it was Forest who pointed that fact out for the umpteenth time. “I think it is.”

            I could feel him standing next to me, anger radiating off his body. “Well, you’re wrong, because it isn’t mine.”

            “Then why did you put it into your pocket and correct yourself when you said it was a phone opposed to your phone?”