You'll Thank Me for This by Nina Siegal (top novels txt) 📗

of all places, the place her father had treated like their own backyard. After a while, she’d heard her mom boasting to people that Karin was really “resilient”—that was the word parents used when they wanted to compliment you for not falling to pieces after your father died. Closer to the truth? She needed to prove to herself that she wasn’t afraid. She could, she would, get over it.

But secretly, and now without her trusty vision and surrounded by basically strangers, she was afraid that maybe she couldn’t, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe going out to that place, unaccompanied by adults, at night, was the worst possible idea she’d ever come up with. Her heart beat even faster when she thought these thoughts. Her head began to spin. She took a deep, deep breath in, trying to get her head back. Yeah, she thought, what a really stupid idea.

Ugh, why did her mom let her be so dumb? She was only twelve. She didn’t know how to make decisions for herself. Okay, her head could stop spinning now. Time to focus on something else. Back to the task at hand: what could her senses tell her, without sight?

There were three of them in the back seat and one in the front passenger seat, of that much she was sure. She felt a leg beside her leg that was thin and soft, not muscular like a boy’s. She got a whiff of perfume, the smell of rose water and cotton candy. That was a scent that came in a bottle in the shape of a ballerina or a swan. Karin really didn’t like the smell of rose water. It was supposed to be a nice smell, she knew, but it reminded her of old ladies and bathrooms. But she definitely knew who that perfume belonged to, because she’d smelled it all summer: Margot.

Dirk, the only boy in their group, would then be on the other side of Margot, by the right back door. He was maybe even trying to cop a feel of Margot while they both sat there in the made-up dark. She tried to hear if anything was happening between them, but there was no tittering or giggling, and it made her feel a little icky about herself to even be wondering about the two of them. She tried to brush the images of them out of her mind. If Dirk wasn’t next to Margot, then he was in the front passenger seat. But she had a feeling it was Lotte up there. No idea why.

Before they got the blindfolds, they had been forced to hand over their smartphones. One of the leaders held out this black velvet bag and they had to drop them in there, like they were robbery victims handing off their diamonds to the thieves. Then the adults had gone through their backpacks to make sure they weren’t carrying anything forbidden—an extra phone or a GPS or an electronic compass, or what, even?—and to make sure that none of them was smuggling beer or weed or any other contraband out into the woods. Some Scouts had been caught doing that before, and they’d been sent home immediately and the whole dropping cancelled. Karin hoped that none of the kids in her group would be that stupid, but she didn’t know any of them all that well. So, yeah, they’d basically been fleeced of all their valuables by a bunch of adults, including her mother, and that felt weird.

Her own zebra-pattern backpack, which she’d packed with an extra set of dry clothes, her mess kit, her key chain with her mini flashlight, her compass, her water bottle, a yellow emergency rain poncho, a tinder kit, a pocket knife, some coins, dry noodles and oats (in case of emergency), and lots of “healthy” candy bars made of dates or tempeh or whatever, was then put in the trunk of the car.

Then they had made them all put on fluorescent-orange vests over their camel-colored Scout shirts and their fall jackets. This was a precaution so they wouldn’t get hit by cars while they were stumbling around aimlessly, blindfolded. Some other kid had been hit by a car before the dropping had even started in exactly that scenario, a while ago, and everyone had been talking about that at the Scout Clubhouse.

Her mom, nodding, had said that she’d read that in the newspaper too. Her mom always knew the disaster stories in any potential scenario—she had to give her that. A few weeks ago Karin’s mom had read aloud to her a story in the paper about how a kid had gotten shot in the forest by some hunters who saw something moving in the bushes and thought this twelve-year-old kid was an elk.

And all summer long her mom had been updating Karin on the progress of this lone wolf that had somehow made his way from Germany and ended up in the Veluwe forest. He had somehow met a mate there—even though there weren’t supposed to be any wolves in the Netherlands anymore—and they had mated and now there were pups. So she had that to look out for. There were plenty of things to freak out about if you wanted to freak out about stuff, according to her mom.

Karin had a quick thought about the wolf, wondering about those pups, and her hands instinctively moved to find her phone so she could Google their latest movements. Oh, right. She didn’t have that anymore. No way to Snapchat with her friends, to make funny faces and share selfies, no TikTok for watching videos of random people doing random dances. Not even color-by-number Sandbox. Of course calling her mother would not be allowed. It was strictly verboten under dropping rules. Which was kind of dumb. Because, yeah, what if?

No phone was almost like being naked. Her thumbs kind of throbbed with pointlessness. She imagined this must be like what Buddhist monks do. Nothing at all, just sitting there, Ommmmm, letting