Count Me In Read Free

back the tears. Why did Ashley always have to pick on her? Finally she stood up. “Nothing broke. They’re made of some kind of plastic.”
    Tess took the bowls from her. “We’ve had dishes like this at home for years. When Ashley was a baby, she threw them on the floor all the time.”
    Ashley scowled and marched to the table, plopping onto a bench. Cedar grinned. “We keep trying to break the ones at home ’cause they’re so ugly and Mom won’t buy new ones until they’re all gone, but nothing works.”
    Tabitha smiled. Cedar wasn’t so bad sometimes.
    Tess turned off the campstove and lit three candles on the table. Max’s gentle panting filled the silence after the hissing of the gas stopped. “Dinner’s ready,”
    Tess said. “Let’s eat.”
    Tabitha sat on the bench at the opposite end of the table from Ashley, grateful to be out of everyone’s way. Ashley served the chickpeas and millet, passing her an extra large serving. Tabitha eyed it. Had Ashley guessed how she felt about the food and done it on purpose? She took a bite. The flavor wasn’t too bad, except for the spiciness, but the texture was awful. Mushy chickpeas mixed with gooey balls of millet. She choked down another bite.
    Halfway through the bowl, she gave up. She was still hungry, but she couldn’t face another chickpea. Using her spoon, she grouped the remaining chickpeas into piles, hoping that no one would notice that she wasn’t eating. 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13. There wasn’t enough room in her bowl for a group of 21.
    â€œWhat’re you doing?” Ashley asked.
    Tabitha shrugged and mushed all the chickpeas together.
    â€œDon’t you like the food my mom made?” Ashley asked, her voice loud and snarky.
    â€œI’m just full.”
    Ashley sneered. “Well, you’d better finish eating ’cause you can’t throw it out. We have to pack out what we pack in, and I’m not carrying your leftovers home.”
    â€œThat’s enough, Ashley,” Tess said.
    Cedar reached for Tabitha’s bowl. “I’ll eat it.”
    Tabitha smiled in relief and passed Cedar her bowl.
    â€œI’d like to propose a toast,” Tess said. She lifted her mug of water. “To Dad. I’m sure he’s watching us now, wishing he were here.”
    Ashley and Cedar froze, then lifted their cups to clink with Tess’s. Tabitha raised hers in the air, not quite touching the others.
    â€œTo Dad,” they whispered.
    â€œTo Uncle Bruce,” Tabitha said. She followed Tess’s gaze to the kitchen, where the box with the ashes sat on the top shelf of the open cabinet beside the matches and a tin of tea.
    â€œIt’s strange being here without him, isn’t it?” Tess said.
    Cedar nodded. His eyes glistened in the candlelight.
    Tabitha tried to shrink into the bench. Uncle Bruce had died in a mountaineering accident fifteen months earlier. This was the first time the family had been on their annual Thanksgiving hike to Lake Lovely Water since his death.
    The fire crackled in the woodstove, and Tess jumped up, breaking the tension at the table. She opened the black door and added another log. “Good job on the fire, Cedar. Dad couldn’t have done any better.”
    Cedar smiled. “Thanks.”
    Ashley scowled and muttered into her bowl.
    â€œWhat?” Cedar said.
    â€œI said, Yes, he would have .”
    â€œWould have what?” asked Tess.
    â€œWould have made a better fire.”
    â€œI was complimenting Cedar,” Tess said. “That doesn’t mean I was saying bad things about your father.”
    Cedar scooped up the last of Tabitha’s chickpeas. “Forget it.”
    â€œHow about some dessert?” Tess held a squished bag of one-bite brownies over the table.
    â€œSounds good,” said Cedar, grabbing four. Tabitha watched in amazement as he popped them into his