Xavier
Landon limps back into the cabin about an hour later, his skin white as a sheet and his nose plastered with tape. He doesn't say anything to me as he opens the door and shuffles into the room. We make eye contact for a brief moment, and then his gaze darts away. "So, what's it going to be?" I ask. He doesn't reply. My fingers, threaded tightly together in my lap, start to quiver. The wait was agonizing. After Landon got whisked away in the motorboat, two other counselors came out to supervise the rest of the activity. Emily and I were the first ones back to shore. There were only two of us, but we threw ourselves into the task of paddling so that we wouldn't have to talk. While the rest of the campers went to get lunch, I came back to the cabin, too wound up to eat. Sweat, blo
