Tug-of-War by Katy Grant

guess what?”
    Devon sucked in her breath. She could tell I was up to something, and she was waiting to hear what. “All you’ve been saying is a bunch of random words. ‘Ice cream’ and ‘armpits.’ That’s all. Why?
¡Porque tu no hablas español, gringa!
Yo soy bilingüe y tu no eres
. Go ahead—tell me what I just said. You can’t, can you?”
    Devon was absolutely silent, staring at me. Finally, in a small voice, she said, “That’s mean.”
    Out of the shadows, Betsy came running up to us. “There you are! Hey, come on. The whole van’s waiting for you two. Wayward sent me to look for you.”
    Devon pivoted on one foot and took off at a fast pace right behind Betsy. I followed a few steps behind them. Inside the pit of my stomach, I felt this white-hot coal still burning inside me. All the lava had spewed out and erupted, but deep inside I was still smoldering. My face felt sweaty with the cool breeze blowing on it.
    The sliding doors of the van were open, and everyone’s faces were lit up from the ceiling lights overhead. Maggie was on a bench by herself with two empty spots waiting.
    Devon scooted in front of Betsy and climbed into the van first, taking a seat on the bench next to Kayla and Shelby. That meant Betsy and I would have to sit next to Maggie on the middle bench, which was absolutely fine by me.
    I slammed the sliding door shut and slid back onto the bench. My arms gripped my stomach. Neither Devon nor I had said a word.
    â€œWhere were you?” asked Gloria. “Kissing your new boyfriends good night?”
    â€œYes, that’s exactly what we were doing,” said Devon, as the van drove away.

Monday, June 23
    â€œIsn’t this great?” asked Maggie, looking over her shoulder at me from the bow of the canoe.
    â€œYeah, it sure is.” I tried to force some enthusiasm into my voice. We were on our river trip, and Maggie had been having a blast ever since we’d launched the canoes into the water. I was pretending to have a good time, but I wasn’t succeeding.
    In fact, I felt sick.
    I was still mad about a lot of things, and it was all raging around inside of me like a runaway virus. Part of me just wanted to stay in the cabin and lie in bed with all the blankets pulled up over my head.
    But I couldn’t do that. I’d risk seeing Devon if I did.So here I was with Maggie on the river, trying to enjoy myself.
    This morning the six of us who were going on the river trip had loaded up in the white truck, with a trailer hitched to the back that held the canoes. It was me, Maggie, Meredith Orr, Patty Nguyen, Abby Harper, and Boo, along with Michelle, and Steve, the river guide. He was a tall, skinny guy with long hair and a scruffy goatee—not exactly crush material, but he seemed to know a lot about canoeing and kayaking.
    As our canoes drifted along in single file, I tried to get into the spirit of the adventure. The sunlight sparkled on the surface of the river, and the sound of the paddles dipping in and out of the water was nice and calming.
    I watched the way the current rippled over the smooth brown rocks in the shallows along the shoreline. Birds were singing in the trees that lined the banks. But no matter how great my surroundings were, I was still in a rotten mood.
    â€œHey, Chris—look!” Maggie pointed with her paddle at a water snake darting past us. Its thin green body wriggled in S curves just below the surface, but it kept its head above water as it swam.
    â€œYeah, that’s cool.”
    Maggie twisted around and looked at me from the bow. “Come on, Chris, cheer up already.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, cheer up? I’m having a great time,” I told her.
    â€œHey, this is your best friend you’re talking to. I can tell when something’s bothering you. Is it because of Ghosty Girl?”
    I dipped my paddle in and out of the water for several