Chapter 11: The Full Audio

I didn't sleep.

I lay in my spare tent with the note in my fist and played night one back in my head, line by line.

What they'd already aired was the first twelve minutes.

My hand. His name. "Please."

All of it meant everything after.

The tape had two more hours, and Kip would find the worst minute of them.

I could already hear which one he'd pick.

Huck, in the dark, telling me about the long way past my cabin at Christmas.

About the tack room.

At six I took the day cams out of the bear can and handed them back to the night tech.

She didn't look at me.

I walked straight across the fire ring to Tent 9 and crouched at Huck's door.

"Denver. Get up."

He came out in his glasses and his bedhead and took one look at my face.

"What happened?"

I gave him the note.

He read it twice, the way I had.

I watched the color go out of his face.

"All of it," he said.

"All of it."

"The tack room." He looked toward the production tent. "Our parents' wedding. What I said in there."

"I know."

"Deb doesn't know about the tack room. Neither does Dad."

"I know, Huck."

He folded the note very small and gave it back to me.

"Burn it," he said. "If he finds out she warned you, she's done."

I fed it into the morning fire and watched it curl.

The day's challenge was a solo.

One partner from each team would race to the top of the ridge above camp, eleven hundred vertical feet of scree and krummholz, and touch a flag.

Double points.

"You go," Huck said immediately. "You're faster than me by about a week."

"Come watch from the meadow."

"I'll be here. I'll keep the fire going." He tried to smile. "I'm getting good at it."

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