Page 19 of Wandering Wild
I look out the tinted window of the van. Ember is beside me, Gabe and Zander behind us, and there’s a driver up front. I can barely recall leaving the hotel, but as our chauffeur’s words penetrate, I pinch myself awake and focus on the forested landscape passing by, searching for a hint of our destination.
My stomach dips when we turn down a gravel driveway and the dense trees disappear, revealing a grassy clearing—never a good sign inHawke’s Wild World, since it almost always means a dramatic aerial departure. For the millionth time in the last few days, I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into, and whether it’s too late to back out.
But then I feel Ember jiggling with excitement and I remember that whatever is ahead, I can handle it, for her.
We drive until we reach the far side of the clearing and stop at a cluster of large shed-like buildings. People are moving around in the misty early-morning light, hauling gear between vehicles and checking camera equipment. Their confident actions imply they’ve done this many times before, and that helps ease something within me. Slightly.
When our driver opens the side door, Ember leaps out, and I follow more sedately with Zander and Gabe at my heels. Now that we’re here and this trip is imminent, adrenaline begins to flood my veins. Despite myself, I’m looking forward to meeting Rykon Hawke—I just wish my mother could have been here with me.
That, however, is an impossible wish.
Even having my stepdad here would be a comfort—and a less impossible wish—but Jerry had only mumbled a quick “Stay safe” after confirming he signed the liability forms, and that was the last I saw of him before Ember and I had to catch our flight to Sydney. I learned six months ago that I can’t count on him in challenging times, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting all the same.
“Zombie-Charlie, are you awake?”
I jerk backward when Ember waves a hand in front of my face, nearly clipping my nose.
“If I wasn’t, I am now,” I say. “But feel free to tell me I’m still asleep and this is all a dream.” More like a nightmare, I add to myself.
Ember links her elbow with mine as our driver beckons us toward the nearest shed-building, his suit contrasting starkly with the casual wear of everyone else in sight.
“Itisa dream,” Ember says over the sound of frosted grass crunching beneath our feet. “The kind that happens while you’re awake.” She squeezes my arm. “You’re going to have thebesttime. I’m so jealous!”
I bite back my retort, since I know she’s telling the truth. She would swap places with me in a heartbeat if she could—and I wouldabsolutelylet her.
“In here, if you please,” the driver says, opening a door built into the side of the shed, revealing a small, dusty office. “Ms. Quinn will be with you momentarily.”
The man vanishes, leaving Zander, Gabe, Ember, and me alone for all of three seconds before the door reopens and a woman walks through. She has a solid figure and short auburn hair, with both her puffer vest and beanie featuring a front-facing hawk in flight—the logo on all of Hawke’s survival merchandise.
“Gabriel, lovely to meet you in person,” she says with a hint of a South African accent, offering Gabe her hand, before introducing herself to the rest of us. “I’m Scarlett Quinn, EP ofHawke’s Wild World. We’re so thrilled to have you here.”
“We’re just as thrilled to be here,” Gabe says with a smile.
It takes everything in me to hold my tongue, since it’s nothimwho has to go without basic amenities for the next few days. I make the mistake of looking at Zander and find him already watching me, a sparkle in his unnaturally blue eyes as he reads me like a book.
“Rykon’s a few minutes away,” Scarlett says, moving toward the nearest desk and wiping it with her sleeve. “Once he’s here, we’ll film some sound bites and take a couple of photos, but we’re on the clock so we’ll keep things brief.” She winks at Zander and me and adds, “Don’t worry, you’ll be out in the wild starting your adventure soon enough.”
The word “wild” echoes in my ears, along with all that it means. I remind myself that it won’t make for good television if any of us die on this trip, and that Hawke’s team is too experienced to let it come close to that, anyway. My confidence takes a hit, however, when Scarlett places a tablet on the desk and declares, “Time to sign your lives away.”
Ember chokes beside me. I can’t tell if it’s the sound of laughter or—no, it’s definitely laughter.
“I’m not eighteen until next month,” I say when Scarlett nudges the tablet my way. “My stepdad already signed your forms.”
“You still need to confirm your consent to be filmed, and for the footage to be shared publicly,” Scarlett explains. “You too, Zander.”
He looks at Gabe, as if waiting for him to object, but his agent just says, “I’ve already read it all and made the necessary amendments. You’re good to sign.”
I wish I had someone to tellmethat, since when I open the digital document, I have to scroll and scroll andscrollbefore I reach the last page where Jerry has already filled in his guardian part, and a space remains for me.
“It’s going to take forever to read this,” I say. “At least three years.” I’m exaggerating, but not by much.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have that long,” Scarlett says, looking out the window at a large black vehicle pulling up. “Rykon’s just arrived, and he’ll want to get things moving fast.”
“I don’t care if the King of England just arrived,” I return, crossing my arms. “I know better than to sign anything without reading it first.”
“Charlie, I assure you it’s fine,” Gabe says placatingly. “I read it thoroughly and?—”
“No offense,” I cut him off, “but you’re notmyagent. You might have Zander’s best interests at heart, but I could be signing away my firstborn child for all I know.”
