Chapter 5
That afternoon, Becky and I wandered aimlessly through the mall, trying to distract ourselves from the ghosts of boyfriends past (and present). We were sipping on smoothies and checking our phones outside an abandoned Radio Shack when she told me she didn't really want to go camping next week.
I looked up, my lips still puckered around my straw, and let out a bubble of surprise. “I thought you were ‘psyched.’”
Becky shrugged. "Doug doesn't really like it out there, and he's got that tournament."
Ah, yes. Doug's paintball tournament.
I swallowed the gob of smoothie that had stuck in my straw and thought it over. No, I wasn't really surprised. It wasn't Doug that was the problem. Doug was just the excuse.
Becky did this often, starting out psyched for a fun new thing, then en
