He nods and hefts Jenna onto one hip.

"You're not holding her right," Lexi complains and takes Jenna from him.

I turn away, content to let them figure out what to do while I find some dry socks. Rory is spreading out my sleeping bag on his cot.

"Ms. Khav, I need someplace to put them." Jacob appears before me, holding out a huge spider.

"You scared that hell out of me, Jacob! Don't dangle that thing in front of my face," I shriek and push his hand aside gently. "Why don't you let it go? Be free?"

His face falls. "He's a friend." He sets the arachnid in his palm and gazes at it.

I have no idea what some of these kids have been through but I'm not about to take away the friend of someone who lost a parent recently, even if that friend horrifies me.

"I'll go find you a … box. Or something," I say. "Hang onto him until I get back. Is that cool?"

Jacob smiles and nods.

Maybe it's a good thing I'm not sleeping in here tonight after all. I'm not sure how many little friends he has hanging around.

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With an involuntary shudder, I step out of the tent into the cold, rainy night, intent on locating a container for a damn spider. Assuming the kitchen staff will likely be the only people to have one in the middle of the forest, I head there first.

"Hey, Katya."

I'm not in the mood for Harris. I face him, hoping the rain keeps this quick.

"Hi, Harris. What's up?"

He draws near, and I'm irked to see he, too, has a raincoat. I hug myself, shivering.

"Thought you might be up for a chat," he replies.

"Um, not in the rain. Maybe tomorrow when we get back," I say and start away.

He snags my arm. "You always do this, Katya." He sighs.

I tug loose from him and look up at him again.

"You always say later. I thought we were friends."

"We are, Harris," I say with some impatience. "The past few months have been really rough."

"You couldn't make the time for one phone call?"

I groan. "Is now the best time to do this?"

"I can't get your attention any other time."

There are days when I adore Harris and days when he's so damn moody, I can't stand him. He's in a mood now, one I don't want to deal with. It's times like these when he makes me uneasy, and I start to humor Petr's insistence that there's something off about Harris.

"Look, Harris, let's just talk tomorrow. We'll both be at camp. Okay?" I say.




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