Dead of Summer

“He left.”

The words don’t quite make sense to me as I stand there, blinking at Darcy and trying to figure out what in the world she means. He left? Who the hell is he? It’s certainly not a child, or we’d have search parties out. Camp Crestview does frown on kids just taking off into the wilderness, after all. “He?” I ask, and Darcy’s eyes widen.

So does her fucking grin.

“Oh, you don’t know,” she asserts, stepping even closer. “Poor thing. You really—” She looks around the dining hall in the same way I had. “You were looking for him.” The glee in her voice is undeniable, and my heart suddenly plummets.

She means Kayde, I realize, and I can’t help the expression on my face, or the hurt I’m sure is there.

He left.

Kayde left. That’s what she means.

Schooling my features into disinterest proves to be impossible, so I just shrug my shoulders. “Okay, yeah, I didn’t know. When did he leave?”

“Early,” Darcy tells me happily, like I’m making her day by asking for details. “Before sunrise. He asked Daniel to watch his kids until they’re picked up, and was on the phone with Fink, apparently. Said he had to go in a hurry. God, Summer.” She rocks back on her heels, smile turning vicious. “You’re really something. How the hell’d you fuck that up, huh? Did you tell him some sad sob story about your past?”

The accusation twists something in my stomach, and I fight hard not to give her a reaction. I don’t want to do more for her than I already am, so I shrug again. “What sad sob story are you talking about, weirdo?”

“Come on,” Darcy scoffs. “I’ve heard you talk to Kinsley about the scar your daddy gave you. Did you unload all that on him? Did you want him to make it all better, and he freaked out from how needy you are?” She couldn’t be any further from the truth, but she’s hit on enough of it, and on my self-consciousness about the scar, that I can’t really bring myself to say anything.

“Don’t talk about stupid shit, Darcy,” I finally mumble, rolling my eyes at her and leaning back on the table behind me. “And I don’t know what this is?” I gesture between us. “But if you’re coming onto me, you can, like, stop. I’m not into girls. But even if I was, and you were the absolute last living creature on earth, I’d rather chew my own arm off.”

With her malicious grin only widening, Darcy steps closer, crowding me against the table. “Seriously,” she murmurs under her breath. “Can’t you just tell me? It doesn’t matter anyway since he’s gone. What the hell am I going to do about it?”

Make my life miserable, probably.

“What did you do to fuck it all up, Summer? Are you just that bad in bed…or is being a shitty partner just bad genetics?”

For a moment, my vision seems to blur. I forget where we are as I lunge forward, hand coming up to backhand her for the words that now repeat themselves over and over in my head.

What did you do to fuck it all up, Summer?

All I want is to wipe the grin off of her fucking face, but the moment before I can hit her, my hand is caught and wrestled down hard. Darcy’s face falls open in shock a second before Liza slips between us, pushing her back gently but firmly.

“Stop,” our glorious camp nurse says flatly. “Stop being a bitch, Darcy. The kids can see all of this, and you’re making a scene.”

My face reddens at that, even if the words hadn’t been directed at me. My hands flex, then relax, and I turn to see that Kinsley is still holding my hand in her grip, looking worried. And beyond her, the girls from my cabin are starting to look a little murderous, like they’d be willing to dogpile onto Darcy just to show some solidarity for their cabin counselor.

But I won’t let them start a fight in Otter Hall, an hour before they get picked up. I allow Kinsley to tug me back to a table where I bury my face in my hands and wonder why I want to cry.

“Sorry,” I whisper, hating how shaky I feel and sound. But more than that, hating that Kayde has done this to me.

I should be relieved, not sad.

I should be laughing and toasting Darcy, telling her I’d absolutely made him leave, instead of getting so upset at the accusation that I’m ready to throw her in the lake with concrete boots on.

“Don’t be.” Kinsley wraps her arms around me and pulls me in for a hug. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Burying my face in her shoulder, I shake my head and refuse to let her see me cry.

Because I refuse, above all else, to cry for Kayde Lane.

“Don’t kill anyone.” My eyes still burn from this morning, and I know I look like a mess with the fading black eyes and tearstained face. But Melody, bless her, ignores all of that and slams into me hard with a hug around my waist. I return it instantly, knowing I’ll miss her more than all my other campers combined.

“No promises,” she tells me softly, smiling up at me toothily before stepping away. My heart twists in my chest, and I feel too sensitive after…everything. The pleasurable soreness low in my body is no longer a wickedly hot reminder of last night, but is instead a reminder that Kayde really, absolutely never gave a damn.

So I suppose, in the end, he won. He broke me enough for me to care about him leaving, and now here I am, feeling like crap.