Made of Stars by Kelley York

Yeah.

Ashlin
    Rachael’s pissed off. Hunter is either oblivious or ignoring it.
    Okay, maybe pissed isn’t the right word. Maybe she’s just…put off. Confused. Uncomfortable. I have no idea. But ever since Chance and Hunt made a scene at the mall and she and I had to walk through people who were muttering about the two idiots running like their pants were on fire, she’s been awful quiet. The whole kissing conversation at lunch didn’t help matters much.
    “They always do stuff like this,” I told Rachael, but I think my attempt to make it better made it worse. Hunter has always been the sort to goof around a little, especially when Chance is involved. Judging by Rachael’s reaction, maybe he isn’t entirely like that with her. Maybe the Hunter I’m used to isn’t the same as the Hunter she knows. Hell, I’m sort of confused about how well I know Hunter anymore, too.
    Because the Hunter I talked to through e-mail and phone and text from California may not have been the sort to gush about his relationship, but I know he cared about Rachael. I know they went on dates to eat sushi, usually with Rachael’s parents, and they went to the movies or a museum a few times a month. It’s definitely different than the things he, Chance, and I always did together, now that I think about it.
    Chance is a big kid. Hunt and I know this. I’m not sure about my brother, but I like it. I’m not ready to grow up and be one of the so-called adults who stop doing all the fun things in life. Like having snowball wars or impromptu races in the most inappropriate locations. Or plotting adventures to secluded islands.
    An adventure Chance hasn’t forgotten about. When we swing by the only department store our town has to offer, a Kmart, it’s to pick up snacks and sodas in preparation for a movie night. But Chance catches me by the hand and makes a beeline across the store to the sports section. More specifically, to their selection of rafts.
    Standing there staring at the inflatable boats leaves my mouth a little dry from equal parts excitement and nervousness. We’re really going to do this. We’re going to paddle out to Hollow Island where, as far as we know, no one has set foot in years.
    I’ve always sat back and watched Chance and Hunter challenging each other. They were the goofballs causing trouble and daring each other to do stupid things, while I acted as the referee on the sidelines. This will be one of the first times I’ve gotten to participate. I’ll be a part of the real action.
    A sudden thought dawns on me. “When are we doing this?”
    Chance is crouched, peering at the product details on the side of a box. I hope he knows what he’s looking for, because I sure don’t. “Mm. I was thinking New Year’s Eve. Wouldn’t that be a cool way to celebrate at midnight?”
    That’s what I was afraid of. “Rachael goes home New Year’s Day.”
    His expression doesn’t change. He won’t even look at me. “Then we’ll take her with us.”
    I have a feeling Rachael will not be as gung ho about this idea. If mall races horrified her, then a midnight rafting trip to an abandoned island is sure to burst a blood vessel in her brain. Before I have a chance to say as much, Rachael and Hunt, pushing a cart of snacks and drinks, round the corner in search of us.
    “You’re looking at rafts?” Rachael asks. I wonder if she’s still giving Hunt the ice-queen treatment. Judging from the tired set of his mouth, I’d wager yes.
    “Uh huh.”
    “Why?”
    “To go rafting,” Chance answers with a vague undercurrent to his voice that sounds a lot like, Duh.
    “Oh. All of us?”
    Chance finally taps a box, communicates to Hunter with nothing more than a look, a tilt of his chin, and Hunt moves to help him lift the box into the cart. Two hundred bucks for a raft and oars. I would ask how Chance is affording this, but I don’t think I’ve seen him spend much of his paychecks since he started working with me. He’s