Lola at Last by J. C. Peterson

Author:J. C. Peterson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-One

THE AIR SMELLS DISGUSTINGLY FRESH.

A deep breath sucks straight to the bottom of my lungs, filling them with pungent pines and rich dirt. It’s so gross I take two more deep breaths and wonder if my heart is really in it to continue hating nature. After hiking with Ezra a couple of days ago, it’s hard not to appreciate the make-out potential of the woods.

Georgia’s got her eyes closed, her face tilted up toward the sunlight streaking through the branches overhead. And, okay, it does feel kind of nice, the way the air is still cool with morning dew while golden sunlight reaches summer-warm fingers through the forest.

Yesterday, Georgia emailed us with a bunch of fire emojis along with GPS coordinates that Dad helped me decipher. Which is how I’ve ended up here—at a small parking lot within Portola Redwoods State Park. It sits snug between the mountains west of San Jose and the ocean, and I have to admit that the drive here was spectacular if you’re into things like natural beauty.

“You’re early again,” Georgia says, clipping her backpack’s seat belt, which I still don’t understand. Is she going to attach side mirrors to her ears next?

My mini-backpack did not come with a nylon belt. I tug at the band of my high-waisted seafoam-green leggings and matching longline sports bra and tighten the knot on my hiking boots. I’ve stopped needing the Band-Aids, actually, though that hasn’t made them any cuter.

Beth—also sporting a backpack with a glorified seat belt—arrives next with Priya, and both girls stop to chat. Priya’s got her giant camera out, and Beth absolutely flips a kiss-ass switch when Georgia ambles over. This girl’s got a thing for authority figures that is, frankly, not healthy. Suddenly, she’s gushing about the trees. She’s never seen such beauty! Such raw nature! What a humbling experience it is!

And yeah, she was actually pretty supportive at Jorge’s, but here’s hoping she humbly falls over the side of a waterfall.

Okay, I shouldn’t think that. Here’s hoping she humbly falls over the side of a small waterfall.

Soon, everyone’s arrived. As Corinne joins us, I can’t ignore the bubble of happiness in my chest. But then it bursts into a thousand rainbows of pure joy, because she smiles big and pulls out from behind her back . . . a coveted C.Rahmani+Co lip kit.

I shriek so loud birds scatter from the limbs overhead. But they’re probably just jealous, because Corinne—bless her—brought me Blond Nudie Picks, one of the limited-edition lip kits that has a six-month waitlist.

“Oh my god.” I pet the satiny smooth cover and lift it with the sort of reverence usually reserved for rare jewels. Inside, six shades of matte nudes for cooler skin tones like mine await.

“We had one at home,” Corinne says. “And fair warning, shade 006 has been used once.”

“This is seriously the best thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Corinne grins wide. “Rad.”

“Girls,” Georgia interrupts.

I look up, sort of dazed, surprised to see we’re still in the woods.

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