“Thanks,” I say. I’ve got thirty-five texts, but I slide it under my pillow for later. “So . . .” I trail off, unsure of how much they want to hear about the woods, about thinking I would die and deciding that I would and then changing my mind about it. I don’t know if Meredith can handle the idea of eating worms and raw fish, and she for sure can’t hear the part about the one that swam back up my throat, or about me clubbing a possum to death. Kavita might, and maybe I’ll tell her one day, but right now I’m so far from that, here in this clean room, with my friends.
