Dead of Summer

Not exactly, anyway. They’re fixed just above my eyes, but still on my face, and I find myself reaching up self consciously, the pad of my finger brushing over the scar I know he’s staring at.

I expect him to ask. To say something, now that I’ve acknowledged where his attention is fixed, but then his gaze meets mine for real, and he smiles just a little more. “Congratulations on your victory,” he concedes, stepping back just in time for the girls of Redtail to swarm me in excitement over their win.

“I hope you’re just as prepared for the rest of the game.” His eyes glitter as he says it, and while it sounds normal, innocent, and right, I know that it’s absolutely anything but. He turns back to his boys, patting shoulders and promising they did amazing, but I still can’t tear my gaze away from him.

Not when I’m oh so sure he’s plotting some kind of revenge on me for later.

CHAPTER EIGHT

When the rest of the day goes normally, I can’t stop the surprise that bubbles to life in my throat. It’s hard to watch Kayde get tackled by Daniel during Capture the Flag without wincing and fearing for Daniel’s life.

But it’s also difficult to remind myself that this smiling, friendly camp counselor really isn’t what he pretends to be.

By the time the day is over and the kids are in bed, my fingers are sore from how much I’ve cracked my knuckles and wrung my hands together nervously. Somehow, Kins never really noticed how on edge I’d been all day.

But then again, she has better things to care about. Like Liza. I’m happy for her, in a way. But in other ways I wish she was more attentive. I wish she’d noticed, or asked, or?—

Well, it’s not like I can tell her anyway.

No matter how much I want to. Because every time I talk to her, I feel Kayde’s eyes burning into my spine. Real or imagined, it’s enough to send me on my way prematurely every time, until I’ve turned into a jumpy, tense mess who knows she won’t be able to sleep at all.

“Fuck,” I mumble, flexing my fingers with a wince. I’ve got to leave my knuckles alone for the night, unless I want this aching to continue into tomorrow. But it’s hard when all I have to do is stand on the little deck leading up to my side of the cabin and stare out at the darkness like something’s going to happen.

God, I hope nothing does.

My heart pounds in my throat, and I hesitate. Kayde hasn’t asked me for anything. Hasn’t told me what he wants, or what I’m supposed to be doing to live up to my side of our stupid, awful, irrational deal.

Should I stay here and wait for him? The thought immediately causes me to recoil, and it’s hard not to compare myself to a rabbit caught in a trap waiting for the hunter to come and skin her. It’s a terrible thought; a bad analogy I want to forget the moment it occurs.

But I’m not going to stand here all night, either. My hesitation lasts only a second longer before I dart into my room, shove my phone into my back pocket, and grab the small shower bag that sits on the small table by the door. There’s a towel slung over the table as well, and I grab it to drape it over my shoulder before leaving my small room once again.

Something tugs at me when I’m at the foot of the wooden stairs. My kids aren’t alone, really. Bobcat Cabin is maybe twenty feet away, and Darcy—for all that she’s irresponsible and not particularly reliable for other counselors—would never let the girls commit murder.

Not without her blessing, anyway.

My hurried steps take me to the further away shower house, the one in the trees where most of the campers are a little too skittish to go after dark. When I want privacy, especially for a hot shower, I always go the extra two hundred feet to get it.

Tonight, while no exception, has me jumping at every single shadow and noise from the woods.

What if he can’t find me? The thought is both reassuring and horrifying as I step into the empty shower house with its five deep stalls. While they aren’t five star luxury, this is a summer camp after all, Fink had enough done to the shower houses a few years ago to ensure we got enough hot water for a long shower and stalls that gave everyone as much privacy as possible.

Selfishly, it’s one of my favorite things he’s done to Camp Crestview. I slip into the farthest shower stall, it’s wide enough for me to almost stretch out my arms without touching the walls, and is separated into the shower itself and a small cubicle with a built-in bench and hooks. My towel goes on the bench, along with my shorts and tee, and by the time I’ve turned on the shower to let it warm up, I’m shivering behind the closed curtain that blocks me off from the rest of the warmly lit bathroom.

Honestly, I prefer this particular shower stall because it’s the furthest from the door, only has one neighbor, and the light doesn’t quite reach it. Shadows creep along the white tile, and I know once I’m properly in the shower with that curtain shut as well, everything will be blissfully dim so I can close my eyes and just think.

Normally, I would relax. This is my alone time, and some of the only me-time I get all summer.

Normally, however, Kayde doesn’t exist.

I shudder, arms wrapped around my body as I press my thighs together nervously. Goosebumps break out along the skin of my arms as I wait, staring at the steam starting to rise from the water hitting the tile in front of me.

At least I’m alone, right?

My imminent nervous breakdown would be much more embarrassing with an audience, that’s for sure. And the silence of the woods is more comforting than nerve-racking. I’ve always liked the silence and the dark.

I just hope Kayde’s bullshit isn’t going to ruin it for me.

Finally, when I’m sure the water is near scalding, I step into the stall and pull the curtain closed, plunging the cubicle into shadow that, while bright enough for me to see everything, is still dim enough for my shoulders to droop and a soft sigh to fall from my lips. The water is hot, almost too much, and quickly plasters my long auburn hair to my head and shoulders, the soft waves straightening and stretching down my spine like fingers.