Chapter 9

That night was just as cold as the last. Luckily they had a roaring campfire to keep them warm. Everyone was in good spirits. Brent and Amy were as giggly and love-drunk as ever. Darlene and her buddies, along with Reggie and Amber, were greatly enjoying each other's company. Best of all, Brandon was where he was supposed to be: sitting next to Angela, his arm around her shoulders.

Angela was trying not to look at Elliot so much, her guilt still eating away at her. But she had noticed the state he was in. He was the only one there not in a good mood. He stared at the dirt, shifting uncomfortably and wringing his hands, looking downright miserable. Perhaps it was his anxiety. Angela had done her research, as she was wont to do: when it came to mental disorders, there were good days and bad days. Angela wanted desperately to talk to him, but she knew better than to do that in front of everyone. He didn't want his issues broadcast to the whole camp. He could work through it on his own, as he usually did. Angela had promised herself she'd stop obsessing over him so much anyway. She was supposed to be spending time with her boyfriend. She shifted closer to Brandon and he ran his fingertips over her shoulder. That felt nice, but not nearly as nice as Angela expected it to.

I'm just nervous, Angela reasoned. I've never really had all those…"warm and fuzzy" feelings with someone, so I'm probably just having trouble…recognizing them.

Then that quiet voice in the back of her mind was suddenly very loud. Liar.

"I'm back!" Brent's shout interrupted Angela's anxious thoughts. She hadn't even noticed he'd left. He'd returned with a cooler, filled with some of the beer he'd bought earlier. Brent barely had a chance to get a can for himself when suddenly Elliot was in front of him.

Brent smiled. "Hey, you want one?" He tossed a can to Elliot, who caught it and briskly returned to his seat without a word.

Darlene stared forlornly at her brother's drink. "Aww! Can I have just, like, just one little sip? Or a couple? Please? Just one little sip! Come on, Elliot!"

Elliot cracked open the can. He didn't look at her. "No," he snapped. His patience for her pestering and annoying behavior had completely evaporated at this point.

Angela gazed at him worriedly as he practically inhaled his beer. Had he ever drank before? He's going to make himself sick, she fretted. Maybe I—She felt Brandon's lips brush over her ear and the thought drifted away from her.

"You wanna get outta here?" he whispered.

Angela grinned. "Yeah, sure," she murmured. Brandon grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet, and the two made their way down the trail. Angela stole one last glance at Elliot. He'd just let his beer can drop to the ground. It was empty. Angela tried not to let that bother her.

"Hey," Brandon said. "You sure you don't want a beer?"

"No," Angela huffed. She didn't want to think any more about alcohol.

Brandon stared intently at her. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I'm absolutely sure," she snapped.

"Okay, okay," Brandon muttered. "Geez. You got alcohol problems in your family or something?"

"It's not that," Angela sighed. "I promised my dad that I wouldn't drink."

"Daddy's little girl," Brandon snickered.

Angela ripped her hand from his grip and smacked his shoulder. "Shut up," she chuckled.

Brandon raked his gaze over her, eyes glistening. "Do you always do everything your parents tell you?"

Angela raised her eyebrows. "Pretty much. What's wrong with that?"

Brandon shrugged and took her hand again. "I guess nothing, but…I mean, come on. If you always listen to them, you'll never have any fun. I bet you've broken the rules more than you'll admit."

Angela smiled, her heart beating just a bit faster. "Really?" she said softly. "You think so?"

"Yes. I'm not falling for the whole good girl routine."

Angela rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't say it's a routine."

Brandon just snorted.

The two stood on the shore, gazing out at the moonlit lake. All around them the crickets and cicadas sang, their late-summer symphonies deafeningly loud. Angela rested her head on Brandon's shoulder, because she'd seen that done so many times in the movies. It was so perfect. Just standing there with him, enjoying his company and the beautiful nature that surrounded them. They didn't need to say anything—or so Angela thought.

"Wanna go to my tent?" Brandon asked hurriedly, shattering the peaceful silence.

Angela lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him. He stared back at her, eyes darting frantically. "Well…why?" she asked. "It's really nice out here."

"Y-yeah, umm—" Brandon stammered, bobbing his head slightly as he searched for words. "Just thought, you know, it would be nice there, too…" He smiled hopefully.

Angela smiled back. She had to admit he was very cute when he gave her that look. "Okay," she agreed finally.

Brandon's eyes lit up. "All right then, let's go." He squeezed Angela's hand tightly as they walked through the grove. "You know, you don't need to play coy all night," he muttered.

Angela blinked at him. "Umm, what?"

Brandon smiled. "Nothing," he said lightly. "Calm down."

Angela snorted. She waited for Brandon to unzip his tent then slipped in after him. It was just the same as her tent: spacious and warm and comfy. Perhaps even more so, because he'd actually laid out his sleeping bag. She sat there quietly and looked around while he zipped the tent back up. She noticed his Game Boy peeking out from his bag. She took it out and checked the cartridge inside. "I think one of Darlene's friends has the same game," she said. "It's got that orange dragon on it too."

Brandon sat beside her, his shoulder pressed against hers. "Oh, yeah? Cool," he said distractedly.

Angela turned the device around in her hands, examining it. "So, is this your fa—?" She broke off when Brandon plucked the Game Boy from her hands and threw it onto his bag. She shot him an inquisitive look. He was smiling at her, a bit unsure but still quite serene. "Wha—?"

"Do you really wanna talk about video games all night?" Brandon asked, his voice soft.

Angela shook her head in confusion. "Wha—?" She scoffed. "Well, we can talk about something else if you want. What do you want to talk about?"

Brandon leaned closer to her. "We don't have to talk about anything," he murmured.

They were nose-to-nose now. Angela smiled as she felt his warm breath on her face. She wanted to kick herself for being so dense. He wanted to kiss her, of course. Hopefully she'd be better at the whole kissing thing this time. Just as she began to lean in, Brandon grabbed her face and pressed his lips to hers. Angela froze, so startled by how rough he was she didn't even think to kiss him back. This was far from the gentle, tentative kiss they'd shared on the shore a little while ago. This was the aggressively passionate sort of making out, the kind that happened in the movies before the camera cut away from the couple to give them some privacy. Angela knew she wasn't nearly as excited by this as he was. Especially now that Brandon's hands had left her face and had begun to wander. She pulled away from him and he sighed loudly. "Okay," she breathed. "That's enough." Her heart pounded as Brandon rolled his eyes. That was not the reaction she'd expected. Had he even heard what she'd said? "Let's not do that anymore," she said slowly.

Brandon sighed again, thoroughly exasperated. "Okay, come on, cut it out."

Angela gritted her teeth. "Excuse me?"

"You don't need to act like you don't—"

"What the hell is your—?"

"Just stop it, all right?"

Angela felt a rush of anger. She was really about to give it to him when he shot forward and forced their mouths together. And now his hands were really where they shouldn't be. This situation had gone from aggravating to frightening very fast. Angela shoved him so hard he fell over. He stared up at her in wide-eyed shock, like she'd gone mad. That look enraged her even more. She stared him down for a heartbeat then scrambled to unzip the tent. She fumbled with the zipper for a moment, her hands shaking, before she finally got it open. She shot out and stalked away into the grove. She didn't even know where she was going. She just wanted to be as far away from Brandon as possible. She heard his fast, clumsy footsteps just behind her.

Brandon heaved an annoyed sigh. "Angela, wait a—"

Angela stopped and reeled around, her heart thundering in her ears. "Stay away from me!" she snapped.

Brandon shushed her. "Look, can you just—just calm down and stop treating me like a rapist?"

Angela was livid. "You said it, not me."

Brandon let out a frustrated chuckle. "What's wrong with you? Why'd you even come on this trip?"

Angela shook her head in shock. "I came on this trip to get to know you better," she replied slowly and evenly. "That's what you said we'd be doing."

"Yeah, and I meant it. What do you think we were doing back there? That's what couples do, Angela."

"What? We—" Angela spluttered. "We haven't even been together that long! And you never told me you wanted to go on this trip just so we could—"

Brandon interrupted her with a scoff. "Holy shit. You are such a prude."

Angela clenched her fists. All she wanted to do was punch him. She didn't even know what stopped her. Her words certainly had no effect on him. "You don't care about me at all, you never did," she said finally. "You just wanted to go on this trip so you could hang out with your dopey brother and Amber—who you absolutely like by the way. You're such a terrible liar. I have to give you credit though: you did a good job smoothing things over just enough so you'd still get to screw me by the end of the weekend!" She breathed heavily, her eyes narrowed. Brandon stared back at her, stone-faced. "You are a sociopath."

Brandon was silent a moment. Then he said, "You done?"

Angela scoffed.

"I don't care about you?" Brandon snapped. "Other way around. You think I'm just so obsessed with Amber. Open your eyes, Angela: you are projecting," he said slowly. "You wanna screw your best friend so bad you can't even think straight."

Angela's face burned. "No, I don't," she said through her teeth.

"Oh, please. Before we even got to the camp, when we were in the diner, you were giving him some pretty interesting looks."

"Th-that's not—"

"Then as soon as we got to camp," Brandon yelled over her, "I mean what was—? That was the most sexually-charged arm-wrestling match I've ever seen. N-not that I've seen a lot of—"

"You're imagining things," Angela cut him off.

Brandon smiled triumphantly. "And what were you guys doing in the lake, huh? Did I imagine that too?"

There it was. He'd struck the final blow. There was nothing Angela could say now. He knew exactly what had been going through her mind the whole time. She couldn't deny it anymore. She admitted it to herself, no buts and no downplaying: she wanted Elliot, so much she couldn't conceal it to save her life. All the things she'd done right in front of Brandon, her boyfriend…The realization hit her like a bullet: she had no self-control. She was a child.

Brandon's gaze was sharp with contempt. "You know I've got half a mind to have a few words with Elliot, too."

Angela felt light-headed. The last thing she wanted was for him to be dragged into this. "Pl-please don't," she begged, her voice cracking and small.

Brandon stared at the ground. The fight was out of him. "Why did you even start dating me?" he asked. "Why are we even together?"

Angela sniffled. "I-I don't know," she replied honestly.

Brandon scoffed. "I donno either." He spun around and stormed off.

Rage burned in Angela's chest. He wasn't getting the last word. "We broke up because of you, not me," she declared, her voice shaky. "You're disgusting."

Brandon shot her a weary glance and kept on walking. "Fuck you," he spat.

"Fuck you too!" Angela shot back. She tore her furious gaze from him, her vision blurred with tears. She stayed by the shore, her mind reeling. She couldn't stop shaking. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, silently scolding herself for crying. She didn't know what she should do. She attempted to calm down. She adjusted the strap of her shirt and wiped her eyes again, trying to make herself look less disheveled. Her feet carried her back to the campfire. As she expected, Elliot and Darlene had gone back to their tent. No one noticed her arrival, or if they did, they were too caught up in their conversations to say anything. Brandon was the only one who noticed her, and he shot her a nasty glare. He was the only one who saw her take one of the beers from the cooler and leave just as quickly as she'd arrived. It occurred to Angela that he'd probably rat on her, but she was past the point of caring.

The beer burned her throat. Angela narrowed her eyes at the can, thoroughly fed up with everything.

Angela's stomach churned. She didn't know if it was the beer or the state she was in that was making her so queasy. She frowned. Her beer can felt much lighter. She tipped it over and just a few drips of beer fell to the dirt. She tossed it behind her with a sigh. She'd been wandering around the grove for a while. She knew she should just go back to her tent and go to sleep. Sleep would be nice. She just needed to stop thinking about everything for a while.

"Is everything okay, Angela?"

The familiar voice brought Angela out of her haze. She jerked her head up to see Darlene gazing at her, wide-eyed and worried. She was in Darlene and Elliot's tent, and the two were working away on their laptops once again.

"Fine," Angela replied hoarsely.

Darlene looked unconvinced. Nonetheless, she went back to her work. She stole glances at Elliot's screen, though she was not impressed this time, but disturbed. "Shit, Elliot," she muttered. "What's wrong with you?"

Elliot's fingers clunked clumsily over the keys, his gaze drowsy. "Nothing," he mumbled.

Darlene heaved a sigh.

Angela watched Elliot type until he looked up at her. His eyes flitted around her face. Angela knew he could tell something was wrong. She smiled faintly and ducked out of the tent. She walked quickly back to her own tent, surprised by how numb she felt. When she stopped beside her tent, she heard heavy footsteps just behind her. Her heart pounded with fear and she whipped around, expecting to see Brandon. But it was Elliot. Her panicked movement had made him jump. "Umm, hey," she murmured.

"Hey." Elliot swayed a little, his eyes bleary. He moved a little closer to Angela, eyeing her with concern. "You okay?"

Angela could tell him about the break-up. She'd just have to leave out the part about her feelings for him. It wasn't exactly relevant to the break-up anyway. "No," she confessed. "I broke up with Brandon."

A strange mix of emotions swirled in Elliot's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Angela wrapped her arms around herself tightly. She forced away memories of those few minutes in Brandon's tent. "He's…he's a creep."

Elliot's eyes were wide with alarm. "Wh-what did he do?"

"I'm fine," Angela told him hurriedly.

"What happened?" Elliot pressed.

Angela groaned. She suppressed the urge to snap at him. He wasn't the one she was upset with. "I don't want to talk about it right now," she whispered.

Elliot nodded in understanding. Still his frustration was obvious. "Okay," he said. He took a step back from her and stumbled.

Angela darted forward to grab his arm and steady him. She looked at the ground, expecting to see the root or rock that had tripped him, but there was nothing there but pine needles. He'd tripped over thin air, as she'd suspected. "Elliot, how many beers did you drink?" she asked, eyeing him anxiously. She didn't want him losing his balance again. She didn't know if she'd be so lucky in rescuing him the next time. He was bigger than her after all.

Elliot stared at his feet, either out of embarrassment or fear of falling. "I-I donno," he mumbled.

Angela snorted, half with worry and half with amusement. She realized she was still holding his arm. She reluctantly let go, watching him carefully to be sure he wouldn't stumble again.

"I think it was three," Elliot admitted with a sigh. He sniffed, his face reddening. "Honestly, I'm not that drunk. I feel kinda better than I usually do, actually."

Hearing that statement, Angela felt a cold wave of terror wash over her. Exactly how much did he enjoy this feeling? It was most likely just her anxiety running amuck, but she was having horrible visions of Elliot drinking himself to death a few years down the line.

Elliot looked her up and down. "You don't look so good."

"I'm just tired," Angela said. "And I had a beer, so, I feel a little weird." She saw Elliot about to say something and quickly added, "But I'm fine. I just need to rest. I just need to…" She sighed. "I just need to forget about this whole Brandon thing."

Elliot nodded. He started backing away, which made Angela tense, fearing he'd trip over nothing again. "You wanna be alone," he concluded.

Angela stared into his glistening eyes. "I guess."

Elliot slowed to a stop. "I could stay for a bit, if you want." He blinked at her questioningly. "Do you want that?"

"Sure," Angela replied too quickly. Of course you want that, stop acting like you don't.

Angela enjoyed being back in her own tent, with her own sleeping bag and pack and clothes. All the disasters of the trip aside, she'd decided she liked camping quite a bit. She also decided it wasn't worth thinking about that much though. When would she ever go camping again? It was perhaps one of those things that one liked but never quite got around to doing.

Angela felt Elliot shifting next to her. They were sitting awfully close. It wasn't unlike the car ride, but this time Angela felt more at ease. Maybe admitting to herself that she liked him made things easier. She noticed him scratching his arm out of the corner of her eye. "You okay?" she asked.

"Mosquito," Elliot grumbled in response.

Angela looked at his arm, and that was when she saw it. There was a small spot near the crook of his elbow. "What is that?" she demanded. She knew. She just couldn't believe it had happened again.

"A mosquito bite," Elliot replied.

"No. This." Angela pointed to the mark on his arm.

Elliot's eyes darted to it, then his attention returned to the bug bite. "That's old," he said, as though that made it insignificant.

Angela was beyond livid. She couldn't believe that a parent could ever harm her child. Elliot's mother deserved the harshest punishments available, as far as Angela was concerned. The world was unfair though, so it probably wouldn't happen in this life. That was why Angela had to believe there was a special place in Hell for a mother who put out cigarettes on her kid's arm. Angela brushed her fingertips over the rippled bit of skin.

"You deserve a better Mom," she murmured.

"You deserve to have yours back." Elliot's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk about-"

"No, it's okay," Angela said gently. "You're one of the few people I can talk to about this." She took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "You miss your dad a lot, huh?"

Elliot drew in a shaky breath. "Yeah," he replied, so quiet Angela barely heard him.

Angela just looked at him, and he looked at her. She waited for him to say more, but he stayed silent. She changed the subject. "Do you miss Mr. Robot?"

Elliot cracked a smile. "Mr. Robot isn't a person."

Angela rolled her eyes. "I know. Do you miss Mr. Robot? The store?"

Elliot shrugged. "Not really. It was fun while it lasted."

Angela stared down at the tent's floor. She felt like she might cry again. She didn't even know why. Maybe because she was still rattled by what had happened earlier. But with Elliot by her side, she felt a little better. "What are you going to do after high school?" she asked. It was something she'd been wondering for a while.

"Computer stuff, probably," Elliot answered. "I don't know what exactly."

"You better figure it out very, very soon," Angela teased. "You're running out of time. And you don't have a DeLorean to help you, I'm sorry to say." She patted his shoulder.

Elliot let out a small chuckle. "What about you?"

Angela sighed. "I have no idea. My dad always says that people who don't know what they want to do end up working some pointless, dead-end job in a soul-draining office."

"Then you better pick something quick. Just pick anything."

Angela snorted. Her mind wandered to thoughts of the future. Where were she and Elliot and Darlene going to be five or ten or fifteen years from now? Her worst fear was that they'd drift apart. She looked at Elliot, her gaze sharp. "Where are you going to go?"

Elliot blinked at her, startled. "What?"

"I-I mean where are you going to go for college or a job?"

Elliot smiled. "Angela, I don't know."

Angela's face felt hot. She knew she was being ridiculous. "I think maybe I'd like to go to the city," she said.

"What city?"

"The city. New York." Angela studied Elliot's face, wondering what he thought about that. He seemed lost in thought, his eyes glassy. "I know we're supposed to hate New York, but I just can't. I feel like a traitor to New Jersey."

"I heard it's really nice there," Elliot said vaguely.

Angela nodded. "Yeah."

"There's a lot of people there, though."

"Yep." Angela let the conversation fizzle out. She was avoiding talking about what was bothering her. She took Elliot's hand, slipping her fingers in between his. "I don't want us to just not be friends anymore," she blurted.

"We'll always be friends," Elliot said.

"Sometimes friends go their separate ways," Angela went on, frustrated by his childish response. "And then they don't talk anymore. That's what colleges and jobs do to friendships. People just…fall out of touch. That's reality."

Elliot said nothing as she sighed loudly. Then he repeated, more softly this time, "We'll always be friends."

His words didn't do much to comfort Angela. But they were very sweet words. She squeezed his hand and laid her head on his shoulder. She paid close attention to his reaction, but he didn't flinch like she'd expected him to. He was perfectly calm. Angela frowned in confusion. He was normally so stressed when people touched him. Maybe he was just trying to hide his discomfort for her benefit. Angela lifted her head.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Am I making you nervous?" As she began to let go of Elliot's hand, she felt his fingers tighten around hers.

"No," he told her.

Angela smiled. She thought for sure she was dreaming.