Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Not even the crappy, slower data. I had nothing.
A strange feeling twisted in my chest, like I’d just been tossed into the ocean without a paddle.
Greg turned to me, Logan, and Fox and let out a sharp bark of a laugh.
“Look at these three,” he said, and I glanced up. All three of us younger guys were all sitting on different tree stumps, staring down at our phones.
“Do you two have data?” I asked.
“None,” Logan said.
“I guess it’s a good thing I cancelled my video conferences,” Fox said, looking up from his phone.
“You young’ins need to put those slabs away and embrace the camping spirit!” Greg said. At some point he’d put on one of those green hats with a string dangling around the front of it. He looked like he was ready to go on a safari.
“You and Mom sure look like you’re embracing the camping spirit already.”
Mom grinned. She had a bright purple bandana around her forehead, and both of them were in their cargo shorts, baggy brown work shirts, and hiking boots.
“Enough about our fashion sense,” Greg said. “You three boys go out into the woods a little and find us kindling and some good marshmallow roasting sticks before the sun goes down.”
“What makes a good marshmallow roasting stick different from a regular stick?” Logan asked.
“Not too thin, not too thick. Bendy, but not overly bendy,” Jim chimed in.
“So the Goldilocks of sticks,” I offered.
“Exactly.”
The three of us stood up, putting away our phones and looking at each other like we’d all just been sentenced to jail.
“So… which way?” Logan asked.
“This is the blind leading the blind, my dude,” I told him. “I might be your older cousin, but I am definitely not wiser in this area.”
“Let’s just go off into those trees,” Fox said, pointing to the path behind Mom’s RV.
“Take this to gather kindling,” Laura said, giving Logan a big wicker basket.
We started off, Fox leading the way. The moment we got into the trees, it felt like being in a different world. I hadn’t spent much time camping or in forests, but the few times I’d gone on hikes, I’d really enjoyed paths like these. As we walked, our feet occasionally stepped on a fallen branch, making a little snap. Soon we were a ways down the path, and the air felt a little cooler, more peaceful.
“These look perfect for kindling,” Fox said, pointing to a cluster of tiny, dry twigs.
“Got it,” Logan said.
“Look at you, Fox,” I said. “You know more about the forest than I thought.”
“You know my dad used to take us to campsites like this all the time when I was a kid, right?”
I stopped, cocking my head to one side. “I definitely didn’t know that,” I said.
“Oh yeah,” Fox said. “At least once every summer, we’d take trips, before my mom died. Dad used to have me go out for this very same purpose every time.”
“Wow,” I said. “We never camped when I was a kid. My mom only got into it when she met your dad. Remember that first summer after they got married?”
Fox smiled. “I swear they went on about four camping trips in the span of three months.”
“They were never home,” I said.
“And you had your friends over every night, and I didn’t even rat you out for drinking your mom’s wine coolers.”
“Because you were holed up in your room anyway,” I said. “Can I tell you a secret? You might hate it.”
“Please, go ahead,” Fox said.
Logan laughed, standing up with a good portion of kindling in the basket. “Sam, don’t you know that anytime you ask someone if they want to hear a secret, they’re definitely going to say yes?”
“Logan, I knew you were twenty-one now, but I didn’t know you were ready to roast me,” I said, playfully giving him a shove on the shoulder. “But you’re right. The secret is that one night, that summer, my friends got curious about you. My mysterious new older stepbrother.”
“Oh great,” Fox said. “What did you guys do?”
“We went out in the backyard and snuck over to where your window was, and we peered in to see what you were up to,” I admitted. “God, I feel gross even admitting it.”
“I knew I should have shut my blinds more often,” Fox said.
“But all you were doing was reading The Economist on your bed. It was kind of sweet, actually.”
Fox ran a hand through his hair. “That was where I spent most of my time in those days,” he said. “Alone, reading whatever the hell I could about finance.”
“They’d thought they might catch you in there with a girl or watching porn or doing something shady.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. In school you always seemed so much… cooler than us.”
“I just coasted through,” Fox said. “I definitely wasn’t cooler. My mind was just somewhere else.”