In the end, it turned out to be nothing. But that night was the first time I realized how much Phoebe had been pretending to be okay with how things had ended up between the two of them. I think it was illuminating for her as well. She never said anything to Mac about it, but she did break things off with the guy she’d been seeing. I guess she figured, if she could still feel like that about her ex, she had no business being with someone new.
“Hey,” Phoebe says, clearly offended. “I assumed the fact that it’s my best friend’s home meant no invitation was required.”
“I thought I was your best friend,” Mac says to her. He leans toward her, doing that strange searching thing again. I’m surprised no one else has mentioned it.
“You are,” Phoebe says. “All of you are.”
“But best means one,” he says. “We can’t all be best. If we’re all best, then that means none of us are.”
“Then none of you are.” She laughs, but I can hear the exasperation in it. And rightfully so. Nobody expects to be forced to rank their friends, especially as a full-grown adult.
“But . . .” Mac trails off. I once heard him assert, “Baseball is going to be better when it’s played by drones,” and passionately defend it, but this kind of emotional honesty is out of his range.
“But I’ve seen you naked,” he says. “A lot.”
“In the past,” she says sharply. “That was a long time ago.”
“So, back then,” he says, “was I your best friend?”
“Mac.” There’s a warning in the word that makes me flinch. It’s like hearing Mom and Dad on the verge of a fight. In all the time Phoebe and Mac were together, I rarely saw them argue. But since they’ve split, I haven’t heard so much as a minor disagreement between them.
“What?” To my surprise, Mac doesn’t back down. “I’m just trying to figure this out. You never said that, just because I stopped being your boyfriend, I wouldn’t be your best friend anymore. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m not saying anything,” Phoebe says. “Common sense should take care of that for me.”
I feign a yawn, lifting my arms above my head for full effect. “It’s getting late. I guess I should probably get some sleep.”
“Well, it’s not,” Mac says, seemingly referring to common sense’s failure to communicate with him.
Deiss lets out an ill-timed chuckle, earning a glare from Mac.
“I’d probably better get some sleep, too,” he says, the amusement clear in his voice as he gets to his feet.
I feel none of his amusement as Simone and I stand up to go to our tents. A niggling sense of dread threads through me as I leave Phoebe and Mac to hash out their breakup, a conversation five years past due. My dread is only amplified by the rustling in the bushes out beyond camp. Reluctantly, I change into my pajamas before burrowing down into the sleeping bag and closing my eyes.
Sleep, however, proves elusive. The caffeine zips through my veins, sending my thoughts galloping in every direction. Luckily, my terror of the prowling wildlife outside is able to distract me somewhat from my worry for Phoebe and Mac. And when that fails, there’s always the new and ever-present fear that I’ll fail in my efforts to make money as a freelancer once I get back home.
I toss and turn, burying my face into one side of the pillow and then the other as I work through the worst-case scenarios. At some point, I must wear myself out. I don’t realize I’ve fallen into a light, anxious sleep until I’m jolted out of it by the tremor of the earth beneath me. The hammering of my heart blocks out all conscious thought for a moment. I blink in the darkness, slowly remembering where I am.
The realization brings no comfort as something metal crashes outside. I’m alone, protected only by the flimsy material of a tent. Our campsite seems to be under attack, and my suit of armor was purchased in the sleepwear section of Bloomingdale’s and is made entirely of silk.
CHAPTER 10
I lie on my back, clutching the sleeping bag to my chin as my body trembles beneath it. My eyes blink rapidly at the top of my tent, as if my gaze alone can prevent it from crushing in on me. My breaths come in short, quick gasps. I don’t know what’s out there, but the rumbling of the ground tells me it’s big, and never in my life have I felt smaller. My guess is wild hippos. Or bulls. If it’s a stampede, nothing could stop them from trampling my tent. The first night, a sturdy wind almost did the walls of my tent in. I felt like one of the little piggies facing down the Big Bad Wolf.