Dead of Summer

No, I deserve Kayde fucking Lane, who trapped me in a shower stall last night. I apparently deserve a serial killer dead set on breaking me and murdering the entire camp for shits and giggles.

Instead of hand holding and sweet smiles, instead of being oblivious to the people around me, I get him. And God, I’d take anyone else. Except, maybe Darcy. But that’s just personal preference and because her face irritates me when she’s trying oh so hard not to say something nasty and failing miserably at it.

“Everything good, Summer?” The voice that drifts into my left ear and halts my mental rambling is soft, and I swear I can feel Kayde’s warm breath on my skin as my fingers tighten on my plate. “You’re kind of just staring off?—”

“I’m fine,” I lie, cutting him off before he can finish. I don’t need to look at him to know how close he’s standing, or that his attention is solely fixed on me. My stomach twists, hunger being replaced by a low simmer of nausea that slowly bubbles up my chest. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” He leans away a little, and when I risk a glance his way, I see his eyes are wide in mock hurt. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And to see if you knew you were staring at them like you’re about to cry.” There’s something under his words that I don’t look into, though I do give him a more direct glance as my lips quirk down into a frown.

“I’m not going to cry.”

“Are you jealous of their little romance?” The guess is so accurate that I rock back on my heels slightly, my face falling and giving him exactly what he’s looking for.

The honesty that I’d planned on keeping from everyone. Kins included.

“Oh…” His face falls into bemusement, like I’ve truly surprised him. “You actually are? You want that?” He tilts his head subtly in their direction, eyes glittering with something like mild shock.

“So what if I do?” My chin rises in challenge, and one of his brows raises incredulously. “Is it such a bad thing to want something like that? Where they don’t care if anyone is looking, or about anything other than each other for a few minutes?” My mouth runs onward without my permission, and I hate how I feel like I have to squirm under his piercing gaze.

“Hmm.” He looks at them again, both of my friends still oblivious, then back at me with a shrewd, sly expression replacing the bemusement. “Well all you had to do was say so, Summer. I can adapt.”

I can feel the shock on my face, and the way I almost drop my plate at his words. “No, I don’t—I mean we’re not?—”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he cuts me off smoothly, like I’m not even fucking talking. “We all have our guilty pleasures or things that we want in a relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship.”

“Oh, sweetheart. We are in the best kind of relationship.” For just a moment I see the flash of his true self under the Lassie facade, and my heart plummets to the floor in a futile escape attempt. “You should eat.” His eyes flick down to my plate, then back up to my face. “Someone said we’re doing the obstacle course today, I think? Seems like you’ll want to be on top of your game for that.”

While I don’t have an answer ready, I find my mouth opening anyway, and I’m sure I’ll insult him in a way that will get everyone killed including me. But then Kinsley’s voice carries my name across the ten or so feet separating us, a question in her voice.

Both Kayde and I turn to look at her, and I immediately school my face into neutrality. Really, it’s the best I can do, given the circumstances, and I must succeed since neither of them look suspicious.

“Sorry, Kins,” Kayde apologies, speaking before I can. “I didn’t mean to steal her from you guys. Make her eat, okay?” He laughs and tilts his head at my plate. “She’s trying to tell me she can just live off of coffee, and that seems super unhealthy.” Playfully he nudges my arm, and the touch makes me want to both shiver and scrub at my skin until all trace of him is gone. “Later girls.” He barely gives them time to return the sentiment, before Kayde is striding off into the kitchen, plate and glass in his hands.

“…Summer?” Kinsley’s voice is careful this time, and she glances at me like she’s finally understanding that something might be wrong. “You going to sit down?”

I should tell her.

The thought quickly sours and I shake my head to clear it before sliding into the seat opposite her. “I’m all good,” I lie, trying to assure them of the falsehood. “And before you start in on me, I swear I’m going to eat.” I laugh, flopping back in my chair after resting my plate on the table. “So don’t give me that look, Mother Liza.”

The nurse smiles, holding up a hand in surrender as she sips her coffee. “I would never parent you into better health, Summer,” she promises with a laugh. “I’ll just keep extra bandages around for when you inevitably injure yourself doing something stupid like swinging from the trees by a vine.”

Kinsley laughs at the accurate assumption, but I just make a face and bring my second mug of coffee up to my lips, prepared to down it just as quickly as the first.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

If there’s anywhere that Liza’s prediction of self-induced injury will come true, it’s definitely on the obstacle course. As Mr. Fink’s favorite part of the camp and the part of it he’s probably put too much work into, the obstacle course could probably be used for army recruits, as well as feral ten-year-olds.

Small obstacles dot one side of the clearing, most of them just requiring the person on them to balance or jump or maybe cross some monkey bars while dangling a few inches over the ground. But the other side of the clearing is dedicated to the rope course. Bridges, knotted climbing ropes, and even a small zip line are attached to both the ground and the trees, and I know the kids are eyeing the course with excitement and fear on their faces.

Some of them probably remember me snapping my arm here last year when I’d made the questionable choice of going across the bridge without a harness on. Whatever Tarzan-fantasy had been living in my head that week was quickly snuffed out the moment I’d cracked my wrist on the hard ground. If I needed any more discouragement from doing it again, Kinsley’s lecture while I’d gotten my arm splinted definitely did it.

This year, I’m already wearing my harness. The bright pink straps criss-cross over my clothes as I fold my arms over my chest, hip cocked to the side while I watch Kinsley’s cabin scramble over the ground obstacles. It’s not timed, exactly. Though each cabin gets a certain amount of time on both sides of the clearing and the goal is to get them confident in what they’re doing before the end of the day.

Half of my cabin doesn’t have that problem. Melody has, of course, rallied the girls into a shivering, soft excitement. And they’d all put their harnesses and helmets on without complaint. Sometimes they terrify me, and I seem to be the only counselor who got lucky enough to get the kids that want to be the best at any cost.

At least they haven’t killed anyone yet. Though, by the way they’ve been eyeing up a couple of the boys in Kayde’s cabin who had the audacity to mock the high-pitched voice of Sophie, a girl who’s new to Camp Crestview this year, I’m not holding out hope that it won’t happen.