Page 37 of The Enemy Plot
A few hours later, we pack up the last of our gear, drive to the trailhead, and pull into the parking lot. With our backpacks strapped on, we start walking in silence. While I don’t mind the quiet, I wonder if the girls are bored. Lola is probably fine with it. But I’ve never known Alice to stay quiet for more than two minutes at a time. The trees loom high over us, which makes for great visibility beneath the canopy. That’s why I chose this trail. It’s an easy hike, and the terrain is mostly flat. Really, it’s more walking than hiking. I’m not complaining, though, considering I have most of the equipment and food on my back.
“So,” Alice says, breaking the silence, and a smile pulls at my lips. Knew it. “Should we play a game?”
“What kind of game?” Lola asks, her curiosity obviously piqued.
“Two truths and a lie. Do you know it?” She looks at me.
I arch an eyebrow. “Do I look like a game person?”
Lola chokes out a laugh, and as always when it comes to my niece, I don’t mind being a source of entertainment.
“It’s easy,” Alice says. “We each say two truths and one lie about ourselves, and the others have to guess which one is the lie.”
“Okay,” Lola replies, fiddling with the straps of her bag. “I’ll go first. Let me think.”
Alice throws me a knowing look, and I give her a small smile.
“Got it,” Lola chirps after a few minutes. “I’ve danced on a Broadway stage. I can do a one-handed cartwheel. My favorite color is black.”
“Oh,” Alice says, her eyes sparkling. “Good one. What do you think, Deacon?”
“Um,” I say, racking my brain. “Maybe the cartwheel thing?”
“I don’t know,” Alice says, tapping her finger on her lip while Lola giggles. “That seems too obvious, not to mention easy for a dancer. So does the Broadway thing. On the other hand, I’ve never seen you wear much black.” Sheeyes Lola suspiciously, and Lola averts her eyes, holding in her laughter.
“Wow, you’re good,” I tell Alice. Lola is now laughing so hard, we don’t even need to ask. Who knew such a simple game would be this fun for her? I’ll admit, it’s not that bad. “You go next,” I tell Alice.
“Fine.” She nods. “I already know what I’m going to say. I’ve read over four hundred books. Ice cream is my favorite snack. I can’t drive a stick shift.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to gauge her expression, but she’s not giving anything away. I peer at Lola, who’s deep in thought.
“I’m pretty sure she’s read four hundred books,” Lola says. “Probably more.”
“Agreed.” I nod. “I think the stick shift is a lie, I’m pretty sure everyone drives stick in Europe.”
Lola smiles. “Good point.”
“Wrong!” Alice exclaims through bouts of chuckles. “I can’t drive stick. I have tried, and it’s true that a lot of Europeans do, but they recently introduced the driving license for automatic cars, and that’s how I got mine, which means I can only drive automatics.”
“Wait.” Lola stops, frowning. “You don’t like ice cream? But I’ve seen you eat it. Oh, no, it’s just not your favorite snack!”
“Exactly.” Alice bumps her shoulder with Lola’s, a bright smile on her face. She then turns her head to me. “Okay, now your turn.”
Oh, boy. What have I gotten myself into? But as I start thinking about my truths and lies, a grin pulls at my lips. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.
We find the spot I had in mind, and it’s as beautiful as I remember. A clearing next to a sparkling waterfall that cascades from a high rock formation. We set up both tents—well, I’m doing most of the work—then sit down to eat our picnic, finishing our evening with s’mores over the fire pit I put together. The perfect night.
“So, did you bring your guitar?” Alice asks, a teasing glint in her eye.
I furrow my brow. “What are you talking about?”
“Isn’t that how camping usually goes? Eating s’mores by the fire, listening to someone play guitar as we all sing along.”
Alice and her clichés. I shake my head. “Sorry, to disappoint, Frenchie. I don’t play guitar, but you’re more than welcome to sing.”
Lola chuckles. “Yes, please do.”
And with that, she starts singing—not too badly, I might add—and Lola joins her. Soon, they’re badgering me to sing along, and I have no choice but to succumb.