Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“So, to be clear,” Lauren says, crossing her arms. “You want us foraging and making new discoveries, but you don’t actually want us foraging for your fungi.”
He gives her a stiff smile. “I appreciate all discoveries. I just didn’t know the fungi were ever found in this zone. If any of you come across them, please don’t pick them, but let us know instead.”
“It would help if we knew what they looked like,” Patrick says. “Why don’t you take us to the grave so we know?”
Nick looks at his watch. “You know, it’s getting late,” he says. “We need to head back. The clouds look like rain.”
I look up just in time to see a bald eagle soaring past, the clouds behind it looking dark and ominous.
We start walking back to the logging road, Lauren, Munawar, and I lagging behind.
Munawar leans in and whispers, “I bet the reason he doesn’t want us to know what they look like is because he doesn’t want us collecting them for ourselves. Maybe they are dangerous, or maybe they don’t want their property stolen and sold to someone else.”
“But it’s not really their property,” Lauren points out. “I’ve looked up their patent application for the fungus. It was denied. You can’t patent something that you didn’t create. Unless they find a way to cultivate and crossbreed it with something else and then get that patented, but it sounds like they have trouble propagating.”
“Doesn’t mean we’re allowed to take them,” I point out. “Pretty sure it’s in the NDA we signed. Not a single organism can go back with us.”
“Hmmm,” Munawar says.
I glance at him over my shoulder and see the contemplative look on his face. “Don’t even think about smuggling them up your butt.”
“I would never,” he says, but from his smile, I know that’s exactly what he was thinking.
By the time we get back to the lodge and dinner rolls around, I’m absolutely beat. I’m a fairly healthy person, not a thin one by any means, my size fluctuating between ten and twelve, but I’ve always been active with hiking, sometimes jogging if I’m training for a fun run, and my muscles are usually pretty strong and defined. So it’s strange that I feel like I could sleep forever as soon as the evening hits. It’s like my muscles have atrophied.
After dinner, I join the others in the common room, where mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows and plates of crumbly butter cookies are handed out. I force myself to nibble on a cookie, but the sugar does nothing to perk me up.
“I think I’m going to go to bed,” I tell Lauren in the armchair beside me. Munawar, Justin, and Noor are on the couch, deep in a conversation about some TV series I’ve never heard of. But when they see me looking at them, they abruptly stop talking.
“Already? It’s eight p.m.,” Lauren says, glancing at her plastic watch.
I yawn to prove a point. “I know, but I’ve just been so exhausted all day. Ever since I got here, really.”
“It’s the fresh air,” she says. “But I’ve been watching you pick at your food. You’re like a bird. You’re not eating enough.”
I give her a tired smile. “It’s not a bad change, believe me. Usually, I wolf down everything in sight and in five seconds flat.” I pat my stomach. “My IBS is grateful.”
“Alright,” she says warily. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I say my goodbyes to the group and head toward the stairs. I feel a prickle at the back of my neck and turn around to see Lauren whispering with the others. Once they see me looking at them, they break apart.
I feel my cheeks go hot, and I quickly go up the stairs. It’s probably nothing. I’m sure they weren’t talking about me, and if they were, it probably wasn’t anything bad. I’m sure they asked why I was going to bed so early, and Lauren explained.
But still, after years of feeling like an outsider, of having a hard time picking up on social cues, I always doubt myself when it comes to making friends. A few bad apples when I was young, and I’m suspicious of everyone.
I push it out of my mind and get ready for bed. No need for melatonin this night; I’m practically falling asleep on my feet. No need to do my TMJ face yoga either. It’s like my jaw muscles have reduced, my face slimmer. I’m probably a lot less bloated, thanks to the reduction in food. You’d think I would be elated at the weight loss, but I’m not. It’s actually kind of concerning since I never wanted to lose weight in the first place.
After I wash my face and put on my pajamas, I get into bed and turn off my lamp. The room is barely dark, twilight thick in the sky and moonlight spilling in through the window.