The Kiss Keeper - Krista Sandor Page 0,2

slumping forward as the hint of a smug grin pulled at the corners of Leslie’s mouth.

Her cousin shined the beam of light into her eyes like a seasoned interrogator. “Put on the boots, then turn around. Pull another stunt like that, and we’ll send you out in your underwear.”

Natalie tried to bat the light away and catch the eye of any of the other girls, hoping to find an ally. But nobody dared to defy Leslie Woolwich. The girl seemed to know how to kiss up to her grandparents to always get out of trouble.

Nat released a low, resigned sigh then pulled on her boots, and before she was even upright again, Leslie didn’t miss a beat and secured the bandana around her head with an extra little tug.

“Good luck, Nat,” Lara whispered through giggles as Leslie led her out of the cabin and onto the trail leading to the well.

Their feet crunched along the path littered with pine needles, and Natalie tried to slow her breathing. She knew that the kiss keeper was a childish legend, but the boy making his way to the well was going to be very much real—and she’d never even practiced kissing before. Sure, she’d kissed her mother and father, but that was on the cheek.

Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips.

What if she ran out of saliva and she and whoever her kiss keeper was got stuck together?

What if he bit her or tried to feel her up?

A million nightmare scenarios tumbled through her mind when she nearly fell to the ground. Luckily, Leslie grabbed the collar of her nightgown and kept her upright.

“You’ll walk from here on your own, Nat. Keep going straight and stay on the path.”

“How will I know I’m there?” she asked, suddenly, for the first time all summer, craving her cousin’s company.

Leslie hadn’t always been so awful. When they were younger, they were inseparable when they were in the children’s cottage together. But that seemed like lightyears ago.

“You’ll either fall into the well or bump into it. I’d suggest bumping into it,” Les answered through a yawn.

“And the guy?” Nat asked, working to keep her voice steady.

“Yeah? What about him?”

“I have to kiss him?” she asked, knowing it was a stupid question.

Leslie let out a weary huff. “Yes, this is not something to mess around with, Nat. This is like ghosts and legends and shit.”

The girl wasn’t wrong. The way they told the story around the campfire was that, years ago, there was a lighthouse not far from Camp Woolwich. That part was legit. And while the campers weren’t supposed to leave the camp property, to this day, kids would still sneak away to explore the crumbling relic. It’s the next part that Nat had trouble wrapping her mind around.

“You know it will upset Otis if every girl in the teen cabin doesn’t offer up a kiss to the keeper,” Leslie continued.

Otis.

“Who was he again?” Natalie asked, hoping her cousin would take the bait and keep talking.

“Seriously, Nat? You need to stop climbing trees, pull your head out of your sketchbook, and pay attention.”

Natalie crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping her know-it-all cousin would keep talking.

“Fine, here’s the story—because you need to understand why this is so important,” Leslie began.

“Thanks, Les,” she murmured, grateful for another few minutes.

“All right, Otis Wiscasset was the only son of the man who used to run the old lighthouse a gazillion years ago. He was supposed to take over for his father, but Otis had other ideas. Kissing ideas,” her cousin added.

“I think I remember that part. Keep going,” Nat replied, wondering how long she could stall. Maybe after Les recounted the Kiss Keeper Tale, she could ask her about nail polish or push-up bras.

“One summer night,” Leslie continued. “It’s said that Otis Wiscasset and Muriel Boothe were supposed to meet at the well to have their first kiss and then run off together. But the Boothe family was all hoity-toity rich and didn’t want their daughter attached to a lowly lighthouse keeper’s son. Well, on the night Otis and Muriel had planned to meet at the well to have their first kiss and then elope, Muriel didn’t show up. It’s said that her parents had put her on a boat back to stay with relatives in England to keep them apart. Otis was delirious with the grief of not ever kissing Muriel. He cursed this well, then disappeared. And now, every summer, all the Camp Woolwich teen girls