Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CROSSING THE BRIDGE

The teachers' agenda was transparent. Half the students would do ropes courses this morning while the other half learned wilderness skills. Then, after lunch, they'd switch. The heart of today's activities, however, was the student pairings. Kids from different social circles had been partnered up, and Jackie prayed Steven had a partner he could tolerate.

Unlike him, she was in the wilderness skills group. Her partner, Timmy, was behaving as obnoxiously as she'd expected. Loud and frantic. But his unpleasantness probably had to do with their first lesson: how to find one's bearings without a compass.

Park instructors had brought her group to a glade. Twigs and small stones littered the ground, but students cleared patches of debris. They drove a stick into the dirt and placed a rock at the stick's shadow. The rock signified the western point, but they had to wait for the shadow to move. Then they could mark the eastern point, but Timmy wouldn't stand still. He'd taken three stones from the ground and was attempting to juggle.

He dropped the stones more often than not—onto Jackie's foot, onto their stick, which she had to readjust. Timmy created chaos wherever he went, but she was used to chaos. Last night she'd reported to Leslie about Michael and Ms. McGee, and once Leslie's shock subsided, she filled their tent with cackles.

"This is the best news you could've brought me!" Leslie eventually said. She held both of Jackie's hands, as if pledging to honor her in sickness and in health. "Michael's of age. Valerie could go to Principal Pridewell, but she'd have to prove her claim. Of course McGee and Michael would both deny it. And to retaliate, Valerie's parents would have to sue the Department of Public Instruction, which they'd never do."

"But Valerie's a total Daddy's girl," Jackie said. "He'd do anything for her."

Leslie snorted. "That doesn't go both ways. Her parents are swingers. Their parties are wild, but I guess your folks are too traditional for that sort of thing." She slipped inside her sleeping bag but continued to talk. "Her parents aren't big on being parents, if you know what I mean. Sure, they pay for whatever she asks for. But she basically has no curfew, no rules. No attention. It's quite sad, really."

In the glade, another stone fell onto Jackie's foot. She raised her arm, intending to smack the rocks from Timmy's hands, but the memory of Leslie cooled her temper. Valerie's upbringing didn't excuse her behavior, but it explained some of it, and Leslie's lack of empathy was startling.

Timmy gave up on juggling anyway. Ten minutes had passed since they'd pushed their stick into the ground. The shadow had shifted but not far enough, and he tried to pry gossip out of Jackie: "Did you tell Mark any of the Vikings' strategies?" "Why is Valerie dating your other ex-boyfriend?" "What's Donna doing here? I thought she pregnant and got sent to a convent."

"Why do you involve yourself in other people's business?" Jackie said, copying his tone. She'd grown tired of standing around, too, but she at least she was being quiet about it. "Get a life already."

"I have a life," he said.

"Is it boring?"

He hesitated. "Yeah"

She turned her back on him. His psychology was low on the list of her concerns, but Valerie's haunted her thoughts. She also missed her friends. Fez had been paired with Paul Makowski at the opposite end of the glade, and Donna was at the ropes course.

Eric, though, had his wilderness assistant duties. He roamed the glade freely, and Jackie hoped he'd stay a while when he reached her area. They could discuss Princess Leia's hair or how late-sixties fashion influenced Star Trek. That was how desperate she was, but he only nodded at her and Timmy's work before checking on other students.

Finally, once the stick's shadow had moved sufficiently, park instructors directed students to mark its new position. Without being told, Jackie drew a line in the dirt between the two rocks. She stepped behind the line, with the first rock to her left and the second to her right, and pointed straight ahead. "That's north."

Timmy stared at her, but the instructors' directions confirmed what she'd done was correct. "You're a smarty pants," he said. "Jackie Burkhart is a smarty pants!"

Her neck muscles stiffened. "Don't you ever shut up?" she said. "I'm so sick of hearing your voice!" Usually she'd punctuate her annoyance with a pinch to his arm, but she refused to use physical violence. Valerie had shoved Steven against his locker and forced herself on him. Jackie wouldn't be that person on any level.

The next exercise of the day, the park instructors announced, was fire-building. Students had to gather plant material from the encompassing woods. Jackie grabbed dry grass and leaves for tinder as Timmy concentrated on branches for kindling.

"I'm not an asshole, you know," he said beside her. His arms were full of twigs. "You treat me like I'm one, but I'm not."

They left the woods and returned to their tract of land. "I'll watch what we've collected," she said. "You get the fuel wood."

"Bossy pants," he muttered as wind blew through the glade. It kicked up dust that scratched her throat, and she coughed until her ribs hurt. She couldn't seem to stop, but someone was tapping her shoulder.

"Timmy," she croaked out, "get fuel!"

"He is. Drink this."

That was Eric, and he passed her a cup of water. She drank it gratefully, but the wind blew harder.

"Keep your head down," he said and shielded her body with his.

"What are you doing?"

"Being your friend. Scary as it sounds, that's what we've become, I think."

When the wind at last weakened, he refilled her cup with his thermos. The water soothed her throat but not her mind. Not even the Trumpeter River could do that. "How'd you happen to have this?" she said, indicating the thermos.

"A frizzy-haired bird hinted you might be sensitive to dust and dirt particles."

Steven. She hadn't gotten to talk to him this morning. Or, more accurately, they'd chosen not to talk to each other. His caution mirrored hers, but he was still looking out for her.

"Thank you," she said.

"Thank you." Eric tucked his thermos in one of his coat pockets. "You stood up for me yesterday. You were Han Solo to my Luke in … forget it." His foot pushed her and Timmy's twigs into an orderly mess. The wind had scattered them. "After this trip, if you want Kelso out of the basement … he won't be there."

He dashed to a pair of arguing students, giving her no time to respond. Timmy trudged through the dirt a minute later, carrying branches as thick as relay batons. "Now what?" he said, but the park instructors hadn't revealed yet what kind of fire they were building.

"Now we help each other," she said and took the branches from him. His chaos wasn't malicious. It was impulsive, and he didn't gossip so much as act like the town crier. "You say your life is boring? Well, I'm going to offer you some true excitement—"

The instructors interrupted, explaining that students would learn how to construct a teepee fire. Jackie dumped the fuel wood to the ground. She'd made enough of these fires she could do it high on Steven's stash. "This is your lesson," she said to Timmy. "I'll supervise."

"Meaning I have to do all the work? Typical." His gripes continued, but he followed the instructors' directions, putting tinder at the center of their patch of dirt.

She licked her finger and stuck it in the air. The breeze was blowing from the west, and as Timmy built a teepee of twigs over the tinder, she gestured to its left side. "Create an open spot there. That way, the breeze will feed the fire."

"So exciting," he said.

"Oh, quit complaining. You're learning valuable skills today, including patience." But she understood his frustration. She wasn't the patient type either, although she was trying to learn. "How would you like to instigate a cheer-off? The outcome could affect the school for years to come."

His eyebrows rose into his shaggy hair. "What do I have to do?"

"Not much." She touched the chain around her neck. Steven's pendant was nestled against her chest. "Just be yourself."

Hyde hadn't spoken for an hour.

He stayed mute while learning how to spot and lift people properly. Said nothing during the first two low-ropes courses. Silence was focusing him on the assigned tasks instead of his partner: Valerie Clayton.

The teachers were continuing their social experiment, matching students from varying social strata or those who had obvious physical disparities. Donna's partner was Mitch Miller, and their six-inch height difference presented plenty of challenges.

Hyde had witnessed their struggles up close. Donna insisted on sticking by him, but her concern was unnecessary. He could protect himself and wouldn't screw with Valerie's safety on the courses. That wasn't how he operated, despite that his nerve endings writhed at her touch.

Being paired with her, though, was a damn big coincidence. He'd suspected Jackie for a moment, that she'd suggested this partnership to a teacher. The chances of him confronting Valerie were higher if he couldn't avoid her.

But Jackie wouldn't choke him with this situation. Ms. McGee had likely done it to punish Valerie for being Kelso's girlfriend. Hyde's rep among the teachers was crap. His tattoo as Edna Hyde's good-for-nothing son had never faded. Using him to rankle Valerie was misguided but inspired.

Now, however, he and Valerie had to cross a "bridge" whose wooden boards had rotted to dust. Only two foot cables remained, proceeding from a pair of trees. They ran side-by-side, but the distance between gradually widened. Their end point was a second set of trees several feet apart.

He and Valerie stood on opposite cables, their hands clasped over the gap. They had to coordinate their steps, or they'd fall.

"Go faster," she said, but his even pace persisted. The cables were a half-yard above the ground, tops. Not a dangerous drop at their current position, but her nails dug into his skin. "What is your problem? We could be finished already!"

They were halfway across. Prolonging their time together wasn't ideal for him either, but confrontation had many forms. Resistance was his preferred mode. Hers appeared to be pain. His ma had used similar tactics, but Valerie wouldn't break more than his silence: "Can't control everything, man."

"You have no idea." Her nails bit his flesh harder. If he squeezed back, he could snap her fingers. He was physically stronger than her. Mentally, too, but he wouldn't pulverize a peanut with a sledgehammer.

"Makin' me bleed won't give me speed," he said.

"Jackie's available. I'm sure you've heard." She loosened her grip, and his skin throbbed as they took three coordinated steps sideways. "But you're not in the running. As we speak, she's probably chasing my boyfriend—"

"Who's fucking some blonde who isn't you."

Her fingers sprang off his hands, but he tightened his grasp on hers to compensate. The gap between them had grown considerably. Losing their balance might have nasty consequences.

"Good recovery!" a park instructor said behind Valerie. "You're near your goal. You can do it!"

He jetted to a different ropes course, but Hyde and Valerie wobbled on the cables. The air was cold, and their lungs puffed out white, smoky breaths. Exertion and his denim jacket shielded him from the chill, but Valerie's lower lip trembled.

"Do you hate me?" she whispered, and his eyes narrowed behind his shades. She'd switched strategies, but they managed another step. "Or are you..." Her thumb swept up his index finger with deliberate slowness. "Oh, yeah. You're hot for me."

He clutched her hands tighter and forced her to step sideways with him, but she kept stroking his finger.

"That's why you protected me from the thicket," she said, and her caresses twisted his guts. "You recognize our potential. Jackie's dying to steal my position in this school, and if she sees us as a couple, she'll die to be your girlfriend."

"I pushed you from the thicket 'cause it was the right thing to do," he said, but he'd spoken without a conscious intention. "Didn't know it was you."

She initiated their next two steps down the cables. "Imagine me naked, Steven. Imagine my lips wrapped—"

"Don't want you." His hands were sweaty from holding hers so long, and they felt huge, like two hot-air balloons. "You went after me 'cause I couldn't fight you."

"You don't have to want me. It's not your heart I'm not interested in. As for fighting me..." She rubbed his index finger faster. "Your cock and I are gonna have a lot of fun."

His gaze fixed on her face, but her features had roughened up. Instead of a smooth complexion were pockmarked cheeks. Her long, sharp nose had become short and rounded. And as continued to talk, her silky voice deepened, as if her vocal chords were drowned in gin.

His mind shouted for her to get off him, but the trees swished with the wind. He wasn't on top of his messy childhood bed. His hips weren't clamped in an unyielding grip, being urged to move awkwardly. Valerie, not Esther, held onto him, and he could fight her.

"Someone fucked you up," he said. "Beat you. Overpowered you."

She laughed, but her thumb quit fondling him. "You've watched too many horror movies."

"And you lived one." He repositioned his fingers around her wrists. They both had long arms, a long reach. They wouldn't have to grasp at each other to finish this exercise, and he hurried them along the foot cables. "But you've cast me, your teammates, and whoever else in a sequel you're directing."

"You're an idiot," she said. They were two steps from their goal, but he wasn't done talking. "You're an idiot!" she repeated when he slowed them to a stop.

"You're pursing the kind of control you'll never catch—" he said, and they tottered on the foot cables as she tried to pull free from him. "Can't escape what's inside you, man. You've made lousy choices so far, but you can change that." He leaned back, stabilizing them. "Or keep goin' how you're goin' and see where it takes you."

"You're an idiot!" she screamed.

Her pathetic comebacks betrayed her vulnerability, but she jumped to the leafy ground, killing his balance. He released her wrists and turned his body as he fell. He landed on his knees and elbows, safe but bruised.

"The girl you'll never catch..." she said and leapt over the cable dividing them, "her life's about to be hell, thanks to you." Dry leaves crunched under her feet, but he stood up before she got close. "Her mom's a slut. A swinger, and half the school will hear it by the end of the night."

He dragged his fingers through his hair. His curls were thick and ropy, like Esther's influence. She'd wound herself around him the last six years, a presence he'd barely perceived until Valerie embodied it.

"Spread your dirt," he said, "and I'll tell Timmy mine."

"You have nothing."

"Wanna play chicken? Let's play chicken."

"Easy for you to say. It's not your life you're playing with. It's Jackie's."

She was trying to pin her decisions, her obsession with Jackie, on him. He clutched his belt buckle and waited, hoping she'd realize that on her own, but no such epiphany escaped her lips.

"You put her in that position," he said. "You interpret her victories as your defeats. Another choice, and here's mine: for each pain you cause her, I'll cause you two. But if you're nice, I'll be nice." He quirked up an eyebrow. "Your decision."

"Is there a problem?" Donna rested her arm on his shoulder. He hadn't heard her approach. With the amount of fallen leaves, he should have, but his fully attention had been on Valerie.

"Yes, is there a problem?" Mitch said, rushing to Donna's side.

"Mitch? I told you to wait by the Porthole." She meant the tire dangling between two trees. Hyde and Valerie had done that exercise with four other students.

"We're partners," Mitch said. "Nobody left behind! Especially your sweet, round behind."

"Which you've ogled plenty," Donna said. "Hyde?"

Hyde jutted his chin at Valerie. "Was suggesting she care about people who ain't her—or she might crash into an unscalable ditch."

"That's good advice." Donna hugged him from behind. "I care about you, Hyde." Her tone was forced and somewhat mocking, but he believed the sentiment.

He tousled her hair. "Care about you, man."

Mitch flung his arms around her waist but ended up embracing Hyde, too. "So do I!"

"You're all so stupid!" Valerie strode past them, shoving Mitch aside on her way. Donna and Hyde stumbled a bit with him, but they were chuckling.

Mitch, though, glared at Valerie as she walked away. "That girl might be the hottest psycho on Earth," he muttered, "but she's a bitch. She blackmailed my cousin Linda a few years ago." He glanced at Donna. "You used to work on the school paper. Think it would publish an article exposing her and the inner workings of the cheer squad?"

"Aren't you the editor?"

"That's right. I am!" he said with fake surprise. He'd set Donna up for that line, but Hyde flattened out his sneer. Mitch's idea had potential. "What say you help me with it?"

"I don't go to this school anymore."

"And yet here you are." He winked at her. "You're good friends with Jackie Burkhart, right?"

"Yes..."

"Terrific! Learn the dirt from her. Give it to me, and we'll uncover the cheer squad for what it is."

She flicked her eyes at Hyde. "On one condition: you won't trash Jackie."

"Or Julie," Hyde said. "They're off-limits."

"No can do. I have to maintain journalistic integrity," Mitch said, even as Hyde's shadow fell across him. "But Jackie and Julie will both be treated fairly. They're not my target."

Donna sighed. "Fine. I'll be one of your sources if Jackie agrees."

"Fantastic." He opened his arms wide. "Shall we hug on it?"

"You touched my ass enough during the last ropes course."

"It's never enough, but onto the tire!"

He marched through the leaves toward the Porthole, but she darted after him, saying "No more 'accidental' hand slippage! Otherwise, I'll..."

Her voice faded in the distance, but Hyde was glad she'd rejected his bull. Mitch often masked his obnoxiousness with double-talk and other sorts of trickery. His was an ass worth kicking, but his usefulness had bought him a reprieve.

Hyde considered dodging the rest of the ropes courses. He had two to go, and his mind was spent, but Valerie couldn't intimidate him. She needed to learn that, but she didn't show at the the so-called Alligator Crossing.

"She's feeling under the weather," a park instructor told him, but her absence had Hyde scratching his neck raw. De-escalation had been his aim, but he might've provoked her to go nuclear.

Jackie picked at the remnants of her macaroni and cheese. The cheer squad had reunited at the communal eating area, everyone except for Valerie. She'd been at the ropes courses this morning, but so had a third of their teammates. They'd managed to shower and get back to the campground for lunch. But Valerie hadn't returned, and Jackie and Julie exchanged glances. Their plan was contingent on Valerie's presence.

"Val's progressed from PMS to her period," Carla said, eliciting giggles from Patty and other teammates.

"Or maybe she's chasing Ft. Blanderson's bus like a dog," Ellen said. "She hasn't put its blondes under the hot lights yet."

Most of the cheer squad laughed, but Julie slapped the picnic table and shouted, "Enough! She's our captain, and she's earned our respect. What would you do without her leadership?" She thrust her arms into the air. "Do a bunch of high and low Vs on the field; that's what! You want to choreograph our routines, Ellen?" Ellen shook her head, and Julie stared at Carla. "So you're going to be our choreographer?"

Carla shook her head, too. "I'm sorry."

"That's better. You don't badmouth any member of our team," Julie said. "Behind their backs or to their faces. That's part of being a team! Valerie's clearly having trouble in her love life, and we have to support her."

Jackie massaged her temples. Julie was playing the situation perfectly, and even if Valerie missed lunch completely, the plan could still work. Dinner would provide another opportunity, but the hours between allowed for other developments—

"Does Michael have the balls to cheat on her?" Leslie said. She was glaring at Jackie, challenging her. If Jackie answered yes, she'd be claiming equality, that Valerie had no superior love powers to tame Michael.

But saying no could be worse. Leslie or Valerie herself would reveal Michael's cheating, spinning a story that cast them as heroes and Jackie as a fool.

"Well?" Leslie pressed. "You dated him, like, forever. You must have some—"

Her mouth froze mid-sentence. All eyes across from Jackie, including Leslie's, had grown wide, and a weight landed on Jackie's shoulder. "Jackie," Steven said behind her, "we've gotta talk."

Fireflies swarmed her stomach. She and Steven weren't hiding their relationship anymore, but they also hadn't decided to announce it. "Sure..." she said cautiously, "but first: you're one of Michael's oldest friends. Would he cheat on Valerie?"

"Yup."

With a single word, he'd dumped chum in shark-infested waters. Speculation broke out among Jackie's teammates, and he grabbed her hand amid the gossip-frenzy. They bolted from the eating area to his tent, but she stopped him from opening the flaps.

"I have to stay outside," she said. "What is it?"

"Valerie knows your ma's been cheatin' on your dad."

Heat overwhelmed her body. The sun had to be swelling, boiling the Earth. ""How?" she said. "But—no. How?"

"We were partners for the freakin' ropes courses. We got into it, and she called your ma a swinger. Threatened to publicize it 'cause I pushed her too hard."

"A swinger?" The term absorbed the heat, cooling her down. "A swinger." She dabbed her sweaty forehead with her jacket sleeve, but Steven's sunglasses were off, and he gazed at her with such devastation her chest ached. "Steven, we're fine. It's fine." She cradled his cheeks. "Her parents are swingers. They throw these crazy parties. Leslie told me, and I guess my mom has attended gone to a few of them."

His arms slid around her back. "So if she talks shit about your ma, she implicates her own folks."

"Right. And who else would her parents have invited to these parties?"

"Their social circle. The folks of your social circle … stalemate."

"Checkmate." She flicked his earlobes gently with her thumbs. "We've already won. She just hasn't realized it yet."

He chuckled but seemed nervous. His fingers were scratching the material of her jacket. "How fucked up is this, man: during one of the ropes courses, I saw Esther in her. Then I saw myself."

"I understand the first part, but you're nothing like her."

"She's what I could've become."

"But you didn't."

His arms dropped to his sides. "'Cause of Forman and his folks. 'Cause hurting you and Donna opened my skull." He walked a few steps toward Eric's tent. He was starting to pace, but she moved in front of him.

"Baby, you're hurting yourself now," she said. "Valerie's tried to break me for years. You had nothing to do with that. Breaking you in the process would be an extra perk … since you held her accountable for what she did to you." She patted his heart. "That is what you did, right?"

"And then some," he said. "Still gave her an out, though. A road map to fix her crap."

Electricity arced across her nerves. As often as Steven purported to hate people, his empathy for others extended even to his enemies. It was a such a turn-on, and she tilted her head suggestively.

A smile ghosted on his face. He edged closer to her, cupped her jaw, and their mouths met. The kiss began chastely, but it grew more intimate with each press of their lips. He communicated so much without speaking—his strong, protective hands on her back, the teasing and loving sweep of his tongue—and she gripped his waist as he satisfied her craving for his affection.

Distant voices scraped at her consciousness. They belonged to potential witnesses, but she remained absorbed in Steven, making out with him by Eric's tent. Then a single voice sounded an alarm: "Valerie is a fraud! She can't choreograph cheer routines! Valerie is a fraud! She can't choreograph cheer routines!"

Steven looked questioningly at her, but Timmy's shouts meant Valerie was at the campground.

Jackie grasped his hand as a dozen kids shouted, "Cheer-off! Cheer-off!" The chant spread from student to student until the air was vibrating.

"This is it," she said. "Steven, it's the endgame."

"You're diggin' those chess metaphors, huh?" he said, but they raced to the center of the grounds. The cheer squad was there, surrounded by concentric circles of students.

Jackie released Steven's hand. She had to get to her teammates, but a path opened for her. The chants continued as she passed by acquaintances and classmates. They weren't violent, just loud, and she reached the squad safely.

"This is ridiculous!" Valerie said. "We're a team. We don't cheer against each other!"

"Cheer-off!" students shouted defiantly. Valerie might as well have been yelling at the trees, but Coach Ferguson shoved past the crowd. He climbed onto a log bench and blew on his whistle, but the chant strengthened.

"Clayton," he said, glancing down at Valerie, "what's this all about?"

Mitch stepped forward. "We have no proof that Valerie choreographs her own routines!"

"She's our captain!" Patty said. "That's proof enough."

"Is it?" Susan Amborn joined Mitch near the cheer squad. "We've watched Jake Bradley lead the Vikings to victory repeatedly as quarterback, but we've never seen Valerie choreograph a routine."

"You've seen us cheer at games! Valerie's our captain. Do the math!" Carla said over the continuing chant.

Mr. Wilcox, Ms. McGee, and Mrs. Fletcher emerged from the inner-most ring of students. They joined Coach Ferguson on the log bench, and the chant abated. The sight of all four teachers must have subdued the crowd.

"We hear you!" Ms. McGee said. "You're dissatisfied with how the cheer squad's being run. That's unsurprising—"

"Bitch," Valerie whispered.

"That's unsurprising," Ms. McGee repeated, as if she'd heard Valerie's insult, "considering the social culture at our school."

Coach Ferguson touched Ms. McGee's arm. "But our cheer squad won both the regional and state championships last year. That was under Clayton's leadership. We could have a repeat this year. Maybe win nationals."

He was right, but Julie had choreographed the squad's routine at state. Valerie choreographed herself for the Individual, but Jackie had beaten her and the rest of the competition by a huge margin.

"So how do we resolve this?" Mr. Wilcox said.

"Cheer-off!" students chanted again, but Mrs. Fletcher gestured for them to be quiet, and they obeyed. She was the most beloved teacher in the school, mostly because of her leniency, but she'd apparently earned the students' respect, too.

"Instead of a cheer-off," she said, "why don't we have a cheer exhibition? Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. We'll be putting what we've learned to the test, but we'll reach a beautiful summit by sunset. Closing out our trip with a show of school spirit would be lovely!"

"I agree!" Julie said and climbed onto a neighboring log bench. "Anyone in the cheer squad can participate, but we'll do individual routines—a minute long."

Valerie pushed her hair from her neck. "No one's going to be part of this."

"Why not? It'll be fun," Jackie said, and to emphasize her point, she leapt into the air and performed a double nine. It was one of the toughest jumps in cheerleading, and her hamstrings weren't warmed up, but the crowd applauded and whooped as her arms and legs formed nines before she landed on the ground.

"I'll do it, too!" Leslie said.

Julie peered down at Valerie. "That's three. "

"I have nothing to prove," Valerie said.

"That's right, lady," Mitch shouted, "because you've got nothing!"

Valerie hopped onto Julie's log bench and jumped off in a well-executed pike. "Tomorrow," she said after a smattering of applause, "you'll be chanting, 'Go, Valerie, go!'"

"You can do it, baby!" Michael yelled from somewhere in the crowd.

She blew a kiss to the unseen Michael. "Love you, baby!"

"All right, that's settled," Coach Ferguson said. "Separate into your groups!"

The concentric circles splintered and reformed as two amorphous blobs on opposite sides of the campground. Julie found Jackie in their group, clutched Jackie's jacket sleeve, and they gaped at each other with the same silent, awed laughter.

Hyde's body ached all over. The morning's rope exercises and the afternoon's survival skills had done him in. Learning how to build a lean-to with thick branches, dead and alive, had taxed his already sore muscles. But at least he'd been partnered with Jimmy Headgear and Sharon Wheeler. Valerie clung to the pretext of feeling ill, and she'd spent the three hours sitting in a lawn chair, reading a Cosmo and sipping water.

Hyde hid his pain at dinner, but Fez cried out when slicing his ham patty, and he complained about the picnic bench. "It is too hard," he said, "and my ass is so tender."

"That just means some of your muscles are being underutilized," Forman said.

"Of course I have muscles that are underutilized. They're my sex muscles."

Donna raised her plastic fork. "Fez, if you want to have that conversation, have it with Kelso." She pointed her fork at the cheer squad's table, where Kelso and Valerie were canoodling together. He'd replaced Valerie's trash-bag companion. "By the way, I conquered those courses," Donna said and flexed her biceps.

"Because you're having sex!" Fez said. "But I did make a new friend today. Give Back is nice without that sonuvabitch Destroy at his side."

"You were paired with Paul Makowski?" Donna's forehead wrinkled. "No wonder you're sore. He must've flung you around like Raggedy Andy during the ropes courses."

"Yes. I can no longer feel my spine … but I feel the rest of my body. My eyelids hurt."

Forman spoke while chewing. "Tomorrow'll be worse. High ropes in the morning."

"What're you griping for?" Hyde said. "You skipped the low ropes today."

"Today, but I have to participate tomorrow, and I'm terrible at climbing. That first tree is going to kill me."

"Well, Eric," Fez said, "I guess you underutilize your arms and legs during sex. A-burn!" He flexed and unflexed his biceps and winced. "Ai, burn! Why does everything hurt?"

Hyde could relate. Muscles twinged in places he thought no muscle existed, and once dinner was finished, he eased himself off the picnic bench. Students were free to hang out this evening, play board games, or do homework. Jackie would be practicing her cheer routine for tomorrow. She'd invited Hyde to watch, but he needed rest.

Inside his tent, he dressed for the night. Sleep snatched him within minutes, but Jackie infiltrated his dreams, and he awoke with hard-on. "Crap."

"That's no way to greet me," Jackie whispered by his ear, and he wiped grit from his eyes. The dream had infiltrated his imagination, but she said, "Steven, are you awake?" and he rolled onto his side.

Someone was lying next to him, a shadow in the darkness. He groped behind his head for his flashlight, switched it on, and the shadow transformed into Jackie. She wasn't in his mind. She'd come to his tent and was in her pajamas.

"Hey," he said.

She twirled one of his curls around her finger. "Hi."

Her clothes from the day were in a pile by his duffel bag. Clearly, she planned on sleeping with him tonight, and he unzipped his sleeping bag with some effort. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm." She inched closer to him and kissed his jaw. "I missed you … and Leslie wouldn't let me sleep. She pestered me for cheer choreography, but she won't manipulate me. I'm not going to stay in the squad as an indentured servant."

"Sounds good to me." Hell, it sounded great. "It's cold, man. Get in here."

She crawled beside him in the sleeping bag, but he grunted as he zipped it closed. His muscles were too stiff for all this activity.

"Are you really that tired?" she said after he shut off the flashlight. "You're not even holding me."

"Body can barely move," he said. "It's pudding."

"My poor Puddin' Pop." Her arm glided over his chest, and her leg swept over his crotch, hitting his erection.

He readjusted the position of her leg. "You wanna call me a cutesy name, fine. Just not that one."

"But you're so puddin'-y and popping." She giggled as her knee rubbed his erection. "Were you dreaming about me?"

"Yeah, and would you quit it?"

She withdrew her leg from him. "Oh! Steven, I'm sorry. I didn't mean … okay, I did mean to, but I thought … I wasn't thinking. I should've asked."

"Jackie, not that. The name." He slid his palm along her arm, the one draped over his chest. "But maybe we should figure out how this is gonna go between us."

"It's simple. Unless it's obvious we're both in the mood or having a spontaneously romantic moment—when we're both fully awake—we ask."

His fingertips stroked her elbow. "Rules work for me, with one addition: you wanna stop, we stop."

"Same goes for you," she said. "So no fooling around tonight?"

The best he could do was let her squeeze one out for him, but that wouldn't be fair to either of them. Today had been rough on his skull, full of torments old and new. "Too exhausted, but I'm glad you're here."

"So am I..." she snuggled against him but avoided his crotch, "Firefly." He inhaled a breath, intending to object, but she spoke first. "Your pet name for me is a bug, too, Steven. A bug! But I adore it because of what it means to fireflies are full of light like the stars … and you."

"You're gonna send me to the loony bin," he muttered. Fireflies were beetles whose asses lit up. But as awful as his latest nickname was, the more she called him that, the less he'd probably hate it. A plight he was willing to accept.