On my honor, I will try.
So when Mrs. Albright pulled her aside after the fall jamboree and whispered that the troop’s treasury was missing—two thousand dollars raised from ten years of car washes and cookie sales—Sienna didn’t panic. She pulled out her field notebook, the one with the duct-taped spine, and wrote three words at the top of a fresh page:
Cora opened the door in a faded hoodie, her eyes already red. sienna rae scouts honor
“I’m giving you a chance to earn your own honor back,” Sienna said. “But if you don’t show up tomorrow, I will.”
Cora’s face crumpled. “I was going to pay it back. Before the end-of-year campout. I just needed—” On my honor, I will try
“You broke the promise,” Sienna said quietly. Not cruel. Just factual. Like reciting the outdoor code. Be careful with fire. Leave no trace.
She turned and walked home under a cold October moon. The splinter under her nail still ached. But for the first time all week, she wasn’t trying to dig it out. She pulled out her field notebook, the one
“I know.”