Breathe.
I do, starting the circular pattern she taught me when anxiety strikes, deep breaths I hold and release while I count.
Describe the situation to yourself exactly as it’s happening.
Okay. The first boy I ever loved has grown into a super-hot human and he’s back to haunt me. But I can almost hear Jane redirecting me, so I do it myself, describing the situation for real.
The first boy I ever loved is back, and I don’t know why, but I think it has to do with me. Nat and Ben are in on this.
Name the fear.
I don’t know why he’s here or why they’re hiding him, and it stresses me out when I don’t understand what’s happening.
Are you catastrophizing?
Catastrophizing? Worst-case scenario, Sawyer is here to somehow humiliate me, and I end up having to cut Ben and Natalie out of my life. I definitely don’t think that’s why he’s here. So no, not catastrophizing.
Can anything in this situation realistically hurt you physically or emotionally?
I consider this carefully. There have only been two times in my life where I felt like I might break: when my dad was sick, and before that, when Sawyer left me. But my dad got better.
And Sawyer…that was a rough breakup, but I’m over it. So no. Nothing in this situation can hurt me.
When you strip out fear and anger, what feelings do you still have?
Um, bafflement? A tummy flutter I don’t want to name.
And…curiosity. What is the endgame here?
It smells like the complicated shenanigans that mark the best pranks.
But Ben and Natalie would never prank me over something to do with Sawyer, which means this has to be Sawyer’s doing. Maybe they have to go along with this because he controls the purse strings? And what is“this”? If it’s a prank, I don’t love being the butt of it, especially when I don’t understand the point.
There’s no way Natalie would try to embarrass me. I’m positive she has a good reason for not mentioning Sawyer’s here.
But Sawyer…
I peer around the tree again, watching him, noticing new details. His hair is shorter, but he still has a flop of bangs that don’t quite touch his eyebrows. He’s also got a light tan instead of the pasty complexion that always marked the beginning of camp. I wonder if I would see lines around his eyes if I were closer, or notice new scars.
He pauses and looks toward the woods, his body motionless and alert. A buck waiting, sensing a change in his environment. I freeze and hold my breath until he looks down at his laptop and goes back to work.
After a couple of minutes, I risk a retreat down the trail, moving quietly until I’m far enough away to break into a jog, determined to get out of range so we don’t run into each other before I’m ready.
I suspect I won’t see him around camp at all. They’ve gone to great lengths to keep him hidden. What do I want to do with this information?
I want to make sense of all my racing thoughts, organize them, and figure out what to do next.
I let myself into my cabin, fingers itching for the large Crayola markers and tempura paints that had marked so many poster- and banner-making projects from summer camps past. I could raid the lodge for that stuff, but I can make this work with notebook and paper.
A few minutes later, I have a glass of wine, a notebook, and a fresh pen in front of me at my cabin’s small dining table, the title of my first list written across the top of the page.
Why Is Sawyer Reed Here and Why Did No One Tell Me?
He is here for the grand re-opening.
But Natalie doesn’t lie, so…
They thought I would freak out.
