Donut Days by Lara Zielin Page B

“I wasn’t defending Mr. O’Connor that day in the lunchroom. I was trying to make you see my point about supporting your friends when it matters. I mean, why is it you expect me to see your point of view about everything when you won’t even see my point of view about . . . anything ?”
    I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Nat was wrong—it wasn’t that I didn’t understand her point of view, I just wanted her to stay away from Carson.
    “Don’t change the subject,” I said. “All I’m saying is that you’re making a huge mistake about Carson.”
    Nat scoffed. “Oh, so I see. Well, how about this? If you won’t even try to understand how I feel about Carson, then how about I stop trying to understand how you feel about your mom? I mean, heck, if you have a Bible handy, then please allow me to point to all the scriptures that say she’s sinning by being a preacher.”
    I smiled like I thought that was the funniest thing ever. “Go ahead and point,” I said. “It’s no sweat off my back if you show the whole world what a hypocrite you are.”
    “I think the hypocrite here is you, Em,” Nat fired back. “Not to mention you’re a jealous, narrow-minded, poor excuse of a friend .” Nat turned on her heel and started walking around the house toward her car parked in our driveway. I was almost glad to see her go. Good riddance.
    “Hope you’ve already gotten the HPV vaccine!” I called after her. “Cuz you’re going to need it when you and Carson start messing around!”
    And Nat? Right then she actually flipped me the bird.
    And that was it. We hadn’t spoken a syllable to each other since.

Chapter Eleven
    T he Harleys rumbled to life, and I looked at my watch. Nine A.M. Jeez. Way to let the camp sleep in, guys.
    I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, then ran a brush through my hair quickly. I pulled on a T-shirt and jeans and decided that was enough prep to get me to the GaSmart, where I could finish getting ready.
    I unzipped my tent and stepped outside into the chilly morning, which felt scrubbed clean from the cool night air. I took in a couple deep breaths and felt taller, fresher.
    “Morning, Emma!” called Bear from the Harley camp. I smiled and waved.
    “Hey.”
    “Did you sleep well?”
    “Yep, thanks. You?”
    “Like a baby,” said Bear, opening a bottle of water and dousing his bald skull with half of it. He shook his head and looked very much like his namesake, as if he would be just as comfortable in the middle of a rushing Alaskan river, shaking the water off his fur after eating a mouthful of salmon.
    “We’re going to go for a quick ride this morning, then we’re going to return to camp before heading out again,” said Bear as he unfolded a towel to dry his face. “Would you like to join us later?”
    “Really? Where are you going?”
    “I don’t know, actually. Maybe we’ll ride toward Trout City and perhaps stop off somewhere for lunch. What do you say?”
    Riding with the born-again Harley gang? Even though I didn’t want to spend my donut camp time hanging with more Christians, my Paul Bunyan Press story was calling and I had only one day left to get it. This was an interesting bunch of people, and I had to admit there was story potential there—even if I hadn’t exactly uncovered it yet.
    “Thanks, that sounds good.”
    Anita poked out from behind Bear. Her hair was pulled back in a stringy ponytail, making her lean face look even leaner. Her sharp cheekbones protruded from her face like the edges of a cliff. American flag earrings hung from her ears and glinted in the morning light.
    “Hey there, Emma,” she said, lighting a cigarette.
    “Hey, Anita.”
    “You coming with us later?”
    “Yeah, Bear just invited me. It sounds cool.”
    Anita took a big drag from her cigarette, then exhaled smoke. I noticed that although her fingernails were painted, the tips of her fingers were yellowed with nicotine. “We’re not going to any sit-down