Dead of Summer

But of course, my life is never this easy. At least not when Kayde is around. I hear the boys yell, and the rope stops its movement as the two boys in front finally get to their feet and manage to put their strength into pulling instead of just being dead weight. The rope wavers, and distantly I hear the other campers and counselors cheering for one team or the other. Melody’s voice is the loudest, however, as she instructs all of Redtail to try harder and not let Coyote win.

I’d never say it, but the little monster really is my favorite. She’ll probably grow up to be wanted in more than one country, but that’s okay. The nuclear weapon screaming insults at Coyote in front of me is perfect in her own way.

“We’re almost there!” she encourages, and I pull harder, feet slipping in the grass under me. Falling would be a real problem here; I’m our team’s anchor and if I hit my face on the ground, I don’t know if we’ll still win.

But God, Kayde is strong. Coyote’s boys aren’t exactly impressive by themselves. My girls have beaten them before. But Kayde adds more strength than Daniel used to, and I find myself unable not to scowl at him as I wish I could wrap this rope round my waist and jerk backward.

Damn I wish he’d end up on his pretty face in the dirt.

My mouth opens as I suck in heavy breaths, my team managing to take one more step before we’re jerked forward three; bringing the flag closer to the middle than I’d wish. Kayde finds my eyes over the heads of our kids, and a smile curls at the corner of his full lips.

But it’s not friendly. Even in front of all these people, he lets a little of that monster in him come out to play on his face. There’s cruelty in his features, and I can see the knotted muscles in his arms that prove he’s not going to let this go without a fight.

If I can win this, then I’m one step closer to winning our week-long game.

The thought is sudden and soft, but I swear strength floods me as sweat runs down my face, dangerously close to my eyes. I manage to take a step backward, then one more, until once again the purple flag tied to the rope dangles dangerously close to our sprayed line in the grass.

That is, until Kayde pulls again, the sun shining off his tightly bunched forearms while he steps a few steps back. He never looks away from me, though I see his mouth move like he’s talking to the boys.

Seconds later, I figure it must have been some kind of pep talk. The boys of Coyote send up a yell and start pulling and tugging fiercely, their movements sending my girls off balance and throwing one of them to the dirt.

Crap.

I’m forced two steps forward, until the flag is past the middle and dangling dangerously close to their line in the grass, instead. I’ve never been much of a pep talker, but before I can even think of what I would say, Melody is yelling again, reminding the girls of all the reasons they want to win here today.

She’s either going to be a world leader or a menace one day, and I have no idea which one.

But with her words and my camper getting back to her feet, we manage to pull the rope enough that the flag balances over the middle once again. My arms ache, and I flex my fingers as much as I can around the rope. If I’m getting tired, I know the girls are, too. The boys most likely as well, but Kayde…

Kayde barely looks like we’re asking him to do anything strenuous in the least. But he can’t beat all of us by himself, so I add my voice to Melody’s, cheering on my girls as I manage to take one step back, then another.

At last, the flag hovers only a step away from our line, and I can see the boys growing frantic across from us. Kayde’s speaking again, but anything he’s saying is completely lost over the cheers coming from the campers encircling the tug-of-war ring.

“Just one more!” Melody all but screams, and something in my blood demands victory here. Not over Coyote Cabin, exactly, like my girls want.

Over Kayde.

My muscles scream and protest; sweat trickling through my hair to gather uncomfortably on my neck. With all of my strength and a moderate amount of strain I pull backward, putting my weight into the rope as well. It’s a bad idea if I get jerked forward; I’d get pulled down into the grass just like so many kids have today.

But I don’t. I manage to take one small, tiny step instead, and somehow, that’s enough. The girls pull and the flag jerks toward us, flying over the line and sending three boys to their faces in the grass.

And, as an after effect, causing me to sprawl backward on my ass as well. I yelp, surprised, as the rope falls to the ground and my girls scream in exhilaration, all the while I shake my fingers out and wince at the soreness already building in my thighs from thumping on the grass so hard.

“Good job, Summer,” I mutter to myself with a sigh, drawing up my knees and shaking out my arms. “You almost hurt yourself again.”

A shadow falls over me, and a calloused palm appears in front of my face, fingers outstretched. “Congratulations,” Kayde purrs, holding it there. “Let me help you up. Your girls are impressive.”

“They’re terrifying.” I want to knock his hand away, or stab it with a blade I don’t have. But while those options are enticing to me internally, I know that if I don’t take his help, someone’s going to notice and then it’s going to be a thing. “You just had to come over here, didn’t you?” The words are out before I can shove them back down my throat, and his smile turns a little less friendly.

“Take my hand, Summer,” he tells me in a voice that makes it clear this isn’t an offer. “Be a good winner. Look like you don’t hate me.” Those two things are much harder than just taking his hand. But I let my shoulders fall with a sigh and place my hand in his, just for him to easily pull me to my feet quickly enough that a soft gasp escapes my parted lips, and I nearly topple into him.

It’s such a close call that I end up with one hand pressed to his chest, fingers splayed, and I wonder if he’s done it on purpose. "I don’t like you though,” I hiss softly, keeping my face neutral and tone oh-so-soft.

It’s so much easier out here in the sunlight, when everyone is around, to talk to him normally like this. To let him know just how unhappy I truly am about this whole thing.

As if he doesn’t already know.

His fingers tighten on my wrist just enough to make me press my teeth together and wish I could protest. But when I blink up at him again, trying to gather my thoughts, I see his eyes aren’t on mine.