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

at this bit of self-mockery. Margot shushed Dirk, and Karin felt a movement of bodies that might have been Margot elbowing Dirk in the ribs, while Rutger took a hard tone. “As you know, no talking until we arrive at the drop point,” he said. Everyone was quiet again after that.

They rode in silence again for another fifteen minutes or so—Karin tried to time it in her head, to be able to calculate about how far they would be from the main road if they had to find it later. Maybe it was more like ten, or it could have been twenty, but honestly it was so hard to tell how long things took when you couldn’t just check your phone.

The car pulled up onto what seemed like a hill and stopped. “All right,” said Rutger. “You all stay put and I’ll come around and open the doors for you.” Like they were invalids all of a sudden. Was there really going to be sideswipe danger, as they’d been warned? Karin couldn’t hear any cars anywhere nearby. Actually, she heard only crickets. As if reading her thoughts, Rutger said, “It’s just that I don’t want you to fall because you can’t see where you’re going.”

So he grabbed them one by one, with his rough hands and hot breath, which now smelled like he’d accented it with mints, and seemed to be lining them up in a row on the dirt. Karin felt like a prisoner in a World War II movie, getting readied for the firing squad. She let a shiver of that feeling crawl up her spine before deciding that it was maybe better not to spook herself more with morbid fantasies. There were enough ghosts in this forest to do that already.

At long last, Rutger told them they could take off the blindfolds. Karin reflexively drew her hand up to cover her eyes, blinking several times to get used to seeing again. It was weird that her eyes had to adjust to the light after such a short time blindfolded, and especially because it was not very bright out anymore. The sun was already showing signs of setting. She welcomed back her primary sense and took in the view.

In front of them was a sandy park road for cars, which wound down to the right toward a grove of trees and then ended where the forest turned into heath. To the left, way down that way, the road met the paved national park road. Without turning, she knew that behind her lay a bike path that abutted a parallel hiking trail.

“We’re near the south gate,” she announced, mostly to herself. “And right there is Stag’s Wood.” She pointed at a wooden tower about the size of a treehouse, where she’d spent hours with her father waiting for red deer to emerge.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Dirk, giving her a once-over. “You already know where we are?”

Margot piped up, “Wow, that’s impressive, nature lover.”

Smiling inwardly so as not to gloat, Karin wondered if Margot’s comment was for real or kind of a sarcastic jab. Nature lover? She turned away from the two of them, took a deep breath in, and drank down the fresh, clean air of the forest. The scent of pine needles filled her nose. It was okay. This was where she’d been so many times with her dad. It couldn’t be scary; and the other kids couldn’t unsettle her. She would be okay here.

Rutger stood in front of the car they’d arrived in—a silver minivan, it turned out—like he was waiting for them to do something. He didn’t look anything like the guy from that freaky movie. He was a little pudgy, with a rust-colored beard and mustache, and a face that was both long and overly wide. What was left of the hair on top of his head he had brushed over to make it look thicker, but when the wind picked up—as it did at just that moment—there was almost nothing there, just fluffy, ruddy strands flying everywhere.

“Karl and Ilvy were both supposed to be your guides today, but unfortunately Ilvy wasn’t feeling very well and Karl took over Group 3, so I took Ilvy’s place,” Rutger started to explain. “Martijn, Karin’s father, will be coming along soon with Riekje, one of the Scout leaders from Group 3. They should be arriving any minute.”

“Stepfather,” Karin said, quick as a stab.

“Uh,” Rutger said, slow to the uptake.

“Martijn is not my father,” Karin said. “He’s married to my mother, but my dad was someone else. He died.”

“Oh,” said Rutger. “Yes, I see. I’m sorry.”

Karin shrugged, letting them all know it didn’t matter to her anymore.

None of the kids said anything, but Lotte glanced over at her to read her face. Karin tried to keep her expression totally neutral and wondered who here knew her family story. Her father’s death had been in the national news, after all, but who knew if they watched the news, or if they had taken the time to put the puzzle pieces together. Or if they cared anyway.

Rutger then looked away from her and explained what would happen next, even though they’d heard it a million times already. The Scouts would have to find their way to the campsite together, using only their compasses and nature itself. There would be hot chocolate and sausages waiting for them when they got there.

It didn’t matter how long it took them, and they shouldn’t feel rushed, but they were expected to arrive sometime before 8 p.m., and ideally around 7 p.m., so they could eat their hot dogs and enjoy the campfire under the night sky before tucking in for the night. If they got lost, they should just keep going, keep working together until they could find their way. The Scout leaders wouldn’t set out to find them unless they hadn’t arrived by morning. They laughed at that—it wouldn’t take them all night, obviously.

The main thing was that they needed