The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 44: Becca

My morning starts with a run, and an apology.

I'm picking my way down a perilous trail dotted with rocks and tree roots when I hear Finn's voice behind me. I chose this shitty trail just to avoid him (he hates running hills), so when I hear him call out, "Hey, wait up!" my brain shorts out and I forget all about watching the ground in front of my feet. Next thing I know, I'm sprawled across the forest floor and Finn is crouching down next to me like some Good Samaritan sent from Hell.

"You okay?" he asks.

I spit dirt out of my mouth and swear furiously.

"I'll take that as a no."

"Of course I'm not fucking okay. Words can't even describe how much I don't want to see you right now." I can't tell who I'm more furious with— him, for tracking me down on my run, or myself, for reacting so badly. "God. I wish you'd just leave me alone!"

"Look, I know you hate my guts for what I did during Capture the Flag. But we need to talk, and your leg is bleeding."

As if on cue, my leg throbs with pain. I look down and see that the impact with the dirt path has shredded a large portion of my knee into a bloody mess. "Shit. Shit!" I press my fingers against the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding, but I only succeed in smearing blood all over my mesh running shorts. "This is all your fault, Fish."

"How is this my fault?"

I point an accusing finger at him. (The dried blood makes it look very theatrical.) "You're a distraction. That's why."

Finn frowns. Then he starts to take off his shirt.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demand. I'm not an especially prudish person, but I really don't want to see Finn shirtless. Not now. "Put that back on!"

"I don't have any band-aids, and we need something to stop the bleeding," he explains, handing me the shirt. It's slightly damp, probably because of the sweat I can now see glistening on his bare chest. I wrinkle my nose at him in disgust. He shrugs. "It might not be name-brand, but it'll work."

"I'm going to get it all bloody."

"It's from my middle school basketball team. I doubt I'll miss it much."

I don't want to accept his help or his stupid sweaty t-shirt, but logic tells me that running back to the cabin with blood dripping down my leg will be more of an inconvenience that letting Finn get his way. So I wrap the shirt around my stinging knee, shooting him death glares whenever he starts looking too hopeful.

"This doesn't make us even," I tell him. "I'm still mad at you, and I'm planning on staying that way for a while."

"I know. Can I help you up?"

Grudgingly, I let him guide me to my feet.

"Want to walk?"

"Not really, but I don't have much of a choice. You'd probably just follow me anyway."

He shrugs. "I won't if you ask me too."

"Whatever. Sending you away would be more trouble than it's worth."

This makes him crack a grin.

"And wipe that stupid look off your face. I'm still mad at you, you know."

We start the mile-long hike back into camp. The trail is just as treacherous while walking, but focusing on the ground ahead of me gives me an excuse to not look at Finn and his bare chest. Thankfully, it's a chilly morning, so he keeps his arms wrapped around his torso.