Chapter 57

• Diamante wasn’t entirely sure if there was a place for us to sleep on the island. Rumors spoke of an old cottage hidden somewhere in the heart of the forest, but since Gosto was the only one who’d ever been here and, conveniently, unreachable there was no way to verify it. So, the next morning, I packed as if we were heading into the wild: sweats, jeans, sneakers. Enough for at least a week of tent life.
• God, I hated camping.
• The only two times I’d ever done it were on school trips, both of which had been miserable. The kind of memories you’d rather scrub from your brain. I prayed the damn cottage wasn’t just a myth.