Читать книгу Played - Liz Fichera - Страница 17

9

Riley

Sam Tracy. I grumbled to myself. Why’d you have to be a Pisces, too? I pulled on the brim of my baseball cap and followed him deeper into the forest.

I looked down at the list as I walked. Juniper bark. Prickly pear cactus needle. Pine nuts. Aspen leaf... There were about twenty items in total, including a petroglyph that, seriously, I had doubts we’d ever find. And I was embarrassed to admit that I really had no idea where to find most of this stuff. “Are you kidding me?” I complained to no one in particular.

“What’s the problem now, Berenger?” Sam said beside me.

I slapped the paper against my thigh and looked up at him.

Sam’s eyes blinked wide again as if I were irritating him, a look that I was growing used to.

I fought an eye roll.

“I take it you haven’t spent much time in the woods.”

“Well, not really.” I tried to sound like I could care less. “And I suppose you have?”

He nodded. “A bit.”

“It’s not like I’ve never heard of these things.” My voice got a little defensive.

“But you’ve never touched them. I mean, outside of books and stuff. Right?”

I didn’t answer. Did the school field trip to the zoo in the second grade count?

Sam looked from side to side. We were completely alone. Against my better judgment, I followed Sam, even when almost everyone else had hiked toward the lake, which would probably be way more fun and scenic than where Sam was going. “Well, we better start finding stuff,” I said.

His voice was flat. “We’re wasting time by arguing.”

Wasting. Nice. “I’m not arguing. I’m following.” My chin lifted. “Lead the way, since you’re the forest expert.”

Without another word, Sam picked up his pace and headed toward the Mogollon Rim, where the pine trees stretched even higher into the sky. No doubt we’d at least find pine nuts or whatever they were called.

I jogged behind him, saying nothing, but I did consider flipping the bird behind his jet-black, irritating, know-it-all head...before I found myself concentrating on the shoulder muscles beneath his stretched T-shirt, which, it pained me to admit, were kind of hot. I blushed as I thought about them, grateful that Sam couldn’t see my eyes.