“No.” She giggles, her cheeks flushing.

And then Eric leaps over the edge, his “Yahoo!” following all the way down to a splash.

“Shit!” Kyle rushes to the edge, stepping carefully as he peers over. “You crazy asshole!” he bellows.

“Jump!” Eric coaxes from below.

Ashley and I both sigh with relief.“So I can climb back up that hill? Hell no.”

“Lame!” comes the response.

“Remember, you’re a shitty swimmer. Just get back up here.” Kyle backs away from the edge, stumbling a touch. “This is going to take a while.” He more falls than sits on the boulder. “I drank too much.”

“We all drank too much.” I hunker down next to him. Ashley falls into him on the other side. We lean against one another while we wait.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” Ashley moans. “Or puke. One of the two. Or maybe both.”

“Hurry up, Vetter!” Kyle hollers.

Silence answers.

“Eric?”

Nothing.

“Fuck . . .” Kyle stumbles to his feet and heads for the rocky pathway down. “Hey! Eric!”

“I’m coming . . . I’m coming . . .” comes the answer between ragged breaths. “This was a really bad idea, wasn’t it?”

Kyle laughs. “Yeah, you’re full of bad ideas, asshole.” He watches with his arms folded over his chest, as his drunken best friend scales the treacherous path.

It’s another few moments before we spot Eric’s curly blond hair crest.

“Ugh. Finally. Can we go now?” Ashley pulls herself to her feet.

“Good things come to those who wait, Freckles.” Eric stands and grins, his arms outstretched, his chest heaving with his exertion.

He sways backward and stumbles to catch his balance.

And then he’s gone.

“Eric!” Kyle yells, scrambling for him.

“Kyle!” I choke out. Ashley and I rush toward the top of the path in time to see Eric tumbling head over heels, over and over, bouncing off the rocks. Kyle tries in vain to catch up, skidding and sliding down the path while somehow managing to stay on his feet.

Eric comes to a stop in a sprawled heap at the rocks on the bottom. Even in the dimming light and with my impaired vision, I can see his leg is bent all wrong. Crimson seeps out all over his skin.

He lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

“Eric!” Ashley cries out, looking ready to run for him, tears pouring from her eyes.

“No! Ash!” I grab her arm. I think I’m going to throw up.

Kyle is halfway down the hill, his eyes wild with panic as they flit between his friend on the rocks and us.

“What do we do, Kyle?” I cry.

“Uh . . . Okay. Go and get Darian now. Tell her Eric fell and we need an ambulance. Tell her where we are.”

I nod, grabbing Ashley’s arm.

I run as fast as I can.

Darian’s face is carved with worry as she marches toward us, the air ambulance climbing higher in the sky, two state troopers in conversation nearby, six counselors including Christa lingering near the trees, their expressions filled with horror and shock.

“Is he going to be okay?” Ashley manages through her sobs.

“Well, his leg and arm are definitely broken. That’s all we know right now. I’m sure it helped, having all that alcohol coursing through his veins,” Darian says.

I avert my gaze to my feet to avoid her glare. Regret weighs down on me. God, we are so stupid.

“What were you guys thinking, going out there?” she admonishes. “How much did you drink?”

I steal a glance to my left, to Kyle. His jaw tenses.

What will happen to him if the police find out that he used his brother’s ID to buy the booze?

“I know you’ve all been drinking. I can smell it on you. And there’s a pile of empty bottles lying here. Where did you get the alcohol? In town? Who bought it for you?”

Kyle bought it, but I paid for it all, on my credit card. There’s a record of it, and now Eric is badly hurt and there are cops hovering. What will happen to me?

I swallow my rising fear. “I’d like to call my father.” As much as I dread that conversation, if there’s a way out of this, he’ll know it. Plus, he’s going to find out anyway. About this, about Kyle . . .

Darian sighs. “That’s a very good idea, Piper. Let’s call all your parents. And you can pack your things while you wait for them to come and get you.”

“Is that him?” Kyle murmurs, his fingers laced within mine as we sit beside each other at a picnic table under the pavilion, watching headlights approach up Wawa’s long, winding road at one A.M.

“Yeah, I think so,” I manage to say around the painful lump in my throat. The belongings I arrived with are packed and sitting on the ground next to my feet.

“Mine should be here soon,” Ashley murmurs, her voice missing that usual spark.

Kyle’s mom said she’s not coming, that Kyle can drive himself home. Darian insisted that would be first thing tomorrow morning, when the alcohol has left his system.

I’m sober now. I think I’ve been sober since the state troopers questioned me about how Eric fell. Once they were convinced it was a drunken accident and not foul play, they lined us up and berated us for a half hour about how stupid and irresponsible we are, how no parent would want their child left in our care at this camp, and then handed us all our fines for underage drinking and left.

Dread takes hold of my insides and squeezes tight as the SUV comes to a stop beside the old green Pinto. I’m not sure which is worse—facing my father or saying goodbye to Kyle.

My father doesn’t wait for Eddie to open the door. He slides out from the backseat and, adjusting the collar of his button-down shirt, marches across the dimly lit lawn toward us, his face as stony as I’ve ever seen it, even from all the way over here.

Darian intercepts him on the way. I’m sure she’s filling him in on exactly why I’ve been fired. And whatever he’s saying to her, well . . . Darian seems to shrink back as my father speaks, looming over her tiny frame.

“Piper!” he bellows.

I climb to my feet and sway, not because of alcohol. “I guess this is it, then.” My voice cracks.

A sob escapes Ashley’s throat as she throws her arms around me.

My own eyes begin to water as I return the embrace.

“I had so much fun with you this summer.”

“Up until tonight.”

We share a weak laugh, though there’s nothing amusing about any of this.

“Keep in touch, okay?” she whispers.

“Of course.” Oddly enough, it’s the same thing Christa said when she thrust a piece of paper into my hand on my way out of our cabin, her email address scrawled across it in her perfect bubbly penmanship. Then she hugged me. I was shocked, to say the least.

Kyle is on his feet, my duffel bag in his hand.

I fight the tears but they win, streaming down my cheeks. After seeing Kyle every day for almost an entire summer, this is goodbye. For now. “You’ll call me, right?”

“Yes.” He reaches up to wipe a tear away with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m so sorry.” Not only has he lost his job, but that fine will eat into his savings.