Things I Can't Forget Read Online Free Page B

much—Uncle Steve has borrowed money from Daddy on occasion. Grandpa Kelly always says that drawings don’t get you anywhere in life, really, and while I spend lots of rainy Saturday afternoons doing watercolors and sketching, it’s something I do to de-stress. My parents think I have the ability to become a lawyer, like Daddy and Aunt Missy and Grandpa Kelly.
    The truth is, I have no idea what I want to major in. Architecture, a career that requires a lot of math, aka something I am truly terrible at? Art, a career where I’d make no money? Interior design, like Mom? Pre-law track, like Daddy? I should decide soon: college starts in three months, after all, and if I could figure out what to do with my life, I wouldn’t waste time taking classes that won’t count toward my major.
    I unload a bag of my own supplies into the closet. I brought a painting I did when I was a camper: a watercolor painting of White Oak cabin. I tack it on the inside of the door, to remind myself of how much I loved Cumberland Creek as a kid.
    “That’s beautiful,” I hear a voice say, and turn around to find Parker standing there with Will.
    “Thanks. I did it a long time ago.”
    Her eyes widen. “I didn’t know you’re into art.”
    “My one true love.” I give her a smile.
    “Really?” Brad says, striding up with hands in his pockets.
    “I also love soccer. And coffee.”
    Brad chuckles. “Do you need caffeine to survive? Because they don’t serve Coke at the cafeteria here.” He shudders, as Carlie walks over.
    “I totally forgot about that,” Will whines. “I remember when I was little, how at the end of a week of camp, I always begged Mom to take me straight to McDonald’s for a Coke.”
    “I did the same thing,” I say with a smile. “We’ll have to get a secret stash.”
    “Don’t say that too loud,” Brad says quietly. “Megan’s a real stickler for us following the same rules campers do.”
    “I’m surprised our lights-out time isn’t nine p.m. like the campers,” Ian says.
    “I’ll have to get some of those Five-Hour Energy things,” Parker jokes.
    “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without cigarettes,” Carlie groans. “Last summer I died without them. But some nights I was able to sneak away and smoke down by the lake.”
    The Middle Tennessee regional conference is made up of six churches, and each nominates members to be counselors here every summer. I’ve never been to any of the other churches, but based on how Carlie and Andrea act, I can’t imagine those churches are anything like Forrest Sanctuary.
    “People smoke here?” I whisper to Parker. She goes to my church, so she should understand what I’m thinking.
    “So what?” she says quietly.
    “So I didn’t think people would do that sort of thing here.”
    “I don’t care one way or the other,” Parker replies, rolling her eyes. “It’s not my business.”
    After hearing that, I edge away from the conversation and finish unpacking my art supplies. This is church camp. I don’t think it’s right for counselors to sneak away at night to go smoke. And since I sinned majorly, I need to show God that I’m still a good person.
    The pizza comes, and after we say grace, we divvy it up. Andrea grabs a seat right next to Matt. I had been planning on trying to sit with him. He looks over at me and raises his shoulders, as if to say he’s sorry.
    I sit down beside Brad and sip my water. “Is your arm okay?” I ask, checking out those bruises again.
    He shoves his sleeve down, trying to cover them. “It’s fine.”
    “Looks painful.”
    Brad nods. “It was. A game of pick-up basketball got nasty.”
    “Did you get into a fight or something?”
    “Nah, I fell onto the asphalt,” he says, but I don’t believe him one bit. The bruises look like finger marks. He pulls down on his T-shirt again. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asks.
    “It’s just me,” I reply. I nibble at a pepperoni, then focus on Matt