Thomas and Niko in the City of Trees

Chapter 15 - Part 1

I won't say it's the absolute worst morning of my life, only because it sounds a little dramatic, and I tend to get pretty tired of superlatives after a while. But it's certainly up there. I hardly sleep the rest of the night. I don't think Thomas does either. I've never spent a night with him where he didn't snore at one point or another, and yet, for hours on end, it's silent as can be over on his side of the tent. I do fade a little from sheer exhaustion just as the sky starts to light up at dawn. Or anyway, that must be what happens, because I never see him leave the tent. I only notice he's gone after jerking awake from some kind of stressful half-dream. I figure at this point, getting any more sleep is hopeless, and one look at the sleeping girls in the early morning light is enough to drive me out of that tent pretty quick.

He's the only one outside. Everyone else is still asleep. He's crouched over by the fire pit, poking the ashes with a stick. He glances over his shoulder, makes eyes contact, then turns back to the ashes. I haven't seen him look quite this sad in a long time. I go over to him. I squat down on the opposite side of the pit.

"Probably best if we don't talk much this morning," he says under his breath. He has the blankest look on his face now. It's freaking me out. "Maybe you should go do your own thing."

"All right," I say. "Good idea."

I leave him alone. I stumble halfway down the hill and collapse on the ground, near the depression where I tripped and fell yesterday evening. I manage to pass out for an hour or so, until the sun rises and starts to bake me on the hillside, and I hear shouts and laughter coming from up above.

I spend most of the car ride back remembering, replaying the event over and over in my head. It would probably be a lot better for me to just stare out my window, stick my nose to the glass and try to think about other things. But I'm trapped in the middle again, so I don't have a window, just a compromised view out the windshield, where all I see is a little dirt road that twists and turns for eternity. I swear to you, the road seems about a thousand times longer than it did yesterday.

What I remember most was our sad retreat, slowly back up toward the camp, past the cars, quietly into our beds on opposite sides of the tent, where we should have fucking stayed all along. It wasn't just a retreat in the literal sense. It was also a retreat from our desires, from anything and everything we might have wanted from each other in that not-so-hidden little spot down by the creek. That's how much the whole thing scared us. We didn't say one word to each other the entire way back. He walked about ten feet ahead of me. Not once did he turn back to see if I was following him. I was terrified we might run into Driggs again at the top, by the tents, but we never did.

If you're wondering what could possibly be going through Thomas's mind right now, as his shoulder brushes uncomfortably against mine in the back seat of the car, I have no clue. I promise you, nothing in this entire world could be further from my knowledge. To be honest, I don't care, either. What I care about is how this is all going to play out. I wish I could say I knew Driggs well enough to have some idea what he might do, but I don't. Jesus, he must have been avoiding us as much as we were avoiding him this morning, because I barely remember seeing him at all. But there's no doubt his truck's still chugging along behind us, and that he's the one behind the wheel.

Against my other shoulder: Lexie. I don't dare turn to look at her, even though I feel her eyes on me a number of times. From that alone, she might be able to figure out something's wrong. She's just so smart, and good, and she deserves better. I'm trying to remind myself of the one good thing that will come from this: She's not going to be stuck with me anymore. She won't have me lying to her face every goddamn day of her life.

The rest of the ride back into town is sort of excruciating. My brain feels like it's boiling in its own fluids, I'm thinking over all of this so hard. We all spill out onto the surface of the parking lot, near the other cars. It's only eleven in the morning, but it's already hotter than hell.