Where We Used to Roam Jenn Bishop (red white royal blue TXT) 📖

this little pang in my chest. Like part of me wanted to be invited even though I probably didn’t know the author, even though I probably hadn’t read any of their books. Was that how she felt when I made plans with Kennedy and Lucy?

“See you tomorrow,” she said.

As I turned back to head home, I noticed a blossom that had fallen off the tree. Pink and white. Not trampled by anyone. Not yet.

I picked it up and carried it all the way home. Maybe it wasn’t going to last, but it was too beautiful to just leave there.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The day before the sixth-grade trip, the door to my brother’s room was ajar, for once, when I got home from track. “Hey, A? You have a sec?”

The shades were drawn. When I stepped into his room, my foot crunched a half-eaten bag of… I didn’t even want to know what. The whole room had a sad smell to it, like wilted french fries and dirty laundry. I guessed that without a girlfriend stopping by, he had nobody to impress. But still.

His laptop sat on the edge of his bed playing a movie, but when I got closer, I could see that Austin’s eyes were closed. What was he doing asleep at four in the afternoon? I nudged his shoulder and his eyes fluttered open.

“Geez, you try knocking?” His words came out slowly.

“Your door was open,” I said. “And I did.” I hated that the second part came out as a whisper. It didn’t used to be like this—never knowing when Austin might snap at me.

He rubbed his eyes and reached over to pause his movie. “Guess I nodded off.”

I pulled up a shade, thinking some sunlight might wake him up, never mind help with this whole man-cave situation, but all it did was shine a spotlight on what a dump this place had become. I knew Mom and Dad tried to stay out of our rooms, but there could have been a raccoon living in here and you wouldn’t even notice.

“So, I leave for Camp McSweeney tomorrow.” I sat on the edge of his bed, pulling my knees up to my chest.

“You do know what they say about Camp McSweeney.…”

“What do they say?”

“What happens at Camp McSweeney stays at Camp McSweeney.” Austin gave me a serious nod.

“Really? No.” I couldn’t help scrunching my nose. “Ew. Gross.”

“Lot of first kisses happen at Camp McSweeney. Just saying.” For a second it felt like we were back in the fall. Like his injury had never happened. But then I blinked and took in our surroundings and knew it was almost summer. That in a week we’d be out of school.

Buh-bye, sixth grade. Hello, seventh. I wondered if Austin felt that way. If he was ready to put eleventh grade behind him, eager for a fresh start.

I grabbed a stray pillow from the end of the bed and chucked it at him. “Stop it.”

Austin cracked a smile.

There was no boy in my grade that I wanted to kiss at the moment, that was for sure. None could even come close to Noah Sullivan. I hadn’t seen him since the band showcase, but in my head, I was pretty sure I would always see him. Especially those eyes.

Though maybe there’d be someone at camp this summer. A cute artist boy in Rhode Island. Maybe?

“Was your first kiss at Camp McSweeney?”

“I’m not telling you about my first kiss, Em. That stuff is sacred.”

“Sacred, huh? Sure. Was it before? After?”

Austin kept shaking his head.

“Oh, come on!”

“You already know who my first kiss was.”

“Wait, Savannah?”

He shook his head.

Who was that girl he dated for a few months sophomore year? Her name started with an H. Hailey? Heather? Oh wait! “Hannah?”

“Nope, nope, nope. I’ll give you a hint. She was your first kiss too.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.…”

“Mom.”

I stuck out my tongue. “Ew, and you know that’s not what I mean.”

“Oh, Emma. Don’t ever change, okay?” He leaned back in his bed and gave me this funny look, as if beneath his wisecracks was something like wisdom. As if he knew something I didn’t yet.

“Yeah,” I said as I slipped off his bed. “Well, I better go pack. Enjoy your movie.”

On my way out of his room, I walked right by his desk. A test with a 67 circled in red ink stuck out of one of his books. A knot tightened in my stomach. I couldn’t unsee it.

The following afternoon, as seventh and eighth graders were filing out of the middle school for their regularly scheduled weekend activities, we sixth graders piled onto school buses in the rear parking lot, our backpacks and duffels stuffed with everything we’d need to survive three days away from home.

Lucy, Kennedy, and I squeezed ourselves into the same bus seat—it helped that Lucy was so tiny. Becca was somewhere up front with Fern.

“I’m so excited!” Kennedy squeezed my shoulders.

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Lucy said, anxiously tapping her knees.

One of the science teachers, Mrs. Ryan, stood at the front of the bus and blew a whistle. Quickly, everyone quieted down. “All right, I’ve got your cabin assignments here.” She tapped her iPad. “Please listen carefully so you’ll know your chaperone and cabin mates. Now, this is not a perfect science, and I’m sure some of you will be disappointed. But let’s remember: this is only for the next three days—not the rest of your lives. Okay?”

“Okay,” we chorused.

“Cabin number one, you’ll be with Coach Lipinski. Owen Peterson, Jose Sanchez, Ivan Hanigan…”

As she read through the lists, Kennedy, Lucy, and I squeezed each other’s hands.

“Kennedy Novak.” My ears perked up. “Grace Collins. Tilly Weathers. Olivia Vroman. Lucy Chan. Haven Mulligan. Emma O’Malley.” Yes! Yes, yes! “Becca Grossman.”

My heart sank. Had she put my name down? Even after our chat? I thought we agreed it made the most sense for her to put down Fern. But I was 99 percent sure Mrs. Ryan didn’t say Fern was in