“Nifty.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Back in the day, campers had to sleep on concrete slabs with tarps as a makeshift cover. It was legit camping, but it sucked. Anytime a tornado or other serious storm system rolled through, everyone had to pack up and move to the mess hall.”
“Nothing says safe haven like someone getting sucked into a tornado,” I said.
Grant chuckled, walking toward the set of cabins on the opposite side of the road. Trees were thicker behind them, hiding a dirt path that twined its way through.
“The pool is down that path,” he said, pointing at it. “Maybe a quarter mile or so. Are you lifeguard certified?”
“Nope.”
“CPR certified?”
“Nope.”
“Nature enthusiast?”
“No,” I said, hands on my hips. “I literally hate nature with a burning passion. I mean, I love Earth, but I’m a city girl through and through.”
“Fantastic! That’s exactly what I want to hear when I’m showing my co-counselor around the largest summer camp this side of Lufkin.” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “You do realize you’ll be out here for two months, right? With little to no interaction with anything city related?”
“You know, I do remember Loraine saying something about no Starbucks and no Wi-Fi. Maybe I dreamed that conversation but—”
“At least your personality kind of makes up for your lack of qualifications,” he said.
“You haven’t even seen the best parts,” I said.
He rocked back on his heels, letting out a low whistle. “Attitude.”
“Hungry and annoyed,” I said, shrugging.
“Default setting?”
“Only when my tour guide has decided to keep me from food in favor of flirting with me,” I said. “Which I’m assuming is why you’ve quit walking.”
“I quit walking because I’m one of those guys who has a hard time explaining things to people while simultaneously trying to work out situations in his brain.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Okay,” he said. “Riddle me why your aunt decided to give you a counselor position when she could’ve easily put you in some basic office job.”
“I don’t know. Ask her.”
“I’m asking you,” he said.
“Well, you’re asking the wrong person, because I literally have no answers for you. I got the info the same time as you. Got the same explanation. Your questions are exactly the same as mine. Trust me, I would’ve been cool with some basic job. I don’t want to be a counselor.”
“Then don’t be,” he said. “Let someone who’s capable of doing the job have it.”
“Oh, so I’m incapable?”
“Aren’t you?”
I sucked in a breath. Yes. But that didn’t mean I wanted it pointed out.
“That was rude,” I said.
“I’m just repeating what you’ve pretty much said,” he said. I shot him a narrowed gaze and he chuckled. “Okay, let’s recap. You’re unqualified. Yes or no?”
“Technically.”
“And you don’t want to be a counselor?”
“Correct.”
“And you hate nature?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Then you’re completely incapable of doing this job!” he said, grinning. “I mean, let’s be real. You walked in here and got handed a job most of us had to earn. That, in and of itself, should be a huge red flag in your capability rating. You’ve even said you don’t want this job. Me calling you incapable isn’t remotely rude.”
“It was,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Because you’ve decided to be suddenly sensitive about it,” he said, raising a hand to the brim of his hat.
“I’m not being sensitive. I’m just … I’m hungry and this trek to the mess hall has somehow shifted from a camp tour to a conversation about what I am and am not capable of. Not that you have any right to voice your opinion,” I said. “You’ve known me all of a car ride and here you are explaining to me why I’m incapable of being a counselor.”
“I’m just saying there are counselor candidates out here that are far more qualified than you,” he said. “The campers will need someone who wants to be out here, who wants to be around them. If you don’t have the patience or knowledge to do that job, you’re pretty much asking for failure. And, not to come across as an even bigger asshole than you seem to think I am, but I can’t babysit someone grossly underqualified while trying to balance my own duties as a counselor. That’s impossible.”
“No one’s asking you to babysit me,” I said, crossing my arms.
“That’s exactly what she’s doing!”
There was an irritation in his tone that wasn’t there before. It set my nerves on edge, raising a wall between me and any words he could hurl my way.
“I’m not trying to be the bad guy by telling you the truth, but being a counselor is hard. It’s real hard. You wouldn’t last a day.”
“You want to bet on it?” I said.
“You’ll quit day one,” he said, nodding.
“Deal.” I brushed past him, intentionally jamming my shoulder into his. The action was less climactic than expected. His muscles hit my arm like a rock-solid door with a padlock.
“The food is that way,” he said, his voice behind me as I kept walking.
“I’ll get some later. You ruined my appetite.”
I followed the path, aiming for a semi-dramatic exit. Grant could judge me all he wanted, but I never made a bet I couldn’t keep. I would survive day one, and I would do it smiling.
3
Personality
“Or I’ll die in the woods on day one,” I said, glancing at the poorly marked map I’d swiped from Loraine’s office.
The goal was to give myself my own camp tour, since Grant’s was such a huge failure. But even my stubbornness couldn’t match Camp Kenton’s woods. After an hour of wandering aimlessly, I plopped to the earth with a sigh.
“She survived an accident but somehow managed to die in the woods,” I said, leaning against a tree. “Here lies Alex Reynolds, the girl who couldn’t read a map.”
I blinked tired eyes to the woods, my shirt clinging to my body like a wet rag. Humidity had soaked the hair on my neck hours before. My bangs now clung to my forehead, beads of sweat rolling into my eyes and down my cheeks. I pushed them to the side, mud forming on my fingers.
Beside me, a spider worked its way over the leaves. I kicked at it, my sandals doing little to protect my feet from twigs and mud. If this was what the bottom of the barrel looked like, its loneliness was severely underrated.
Trees limbs crunched behind me, the rattle of leaves sending me full circle. Grant crossed through them, scowling as he came to a stop. “Like I said, you’re incapable. It’s nothing personal. It’s fact.”
He handed me a water bottle, condensation clinging to the plastic. I took it, my flushed cheeks and dehydrated body begging for relief.
“Can we go now?” he said. “I’ve got a mile-wide list of things to do, and I can’t sit in these woods with you while you pout and play in the dirt. I’ve done that long enough. Responsibility calls.”
I swallowed hard, dragging the rim from my lips. “What do you mean you’ve done this long enough?” I said, my grip on the bottle tightening. “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough to know you aren’t capable of finding your way back alone,” he said, sweat around the ring of his collar evidence enough. “And long enough to know you need a serious lesson on how to read a map.”
“The person who made the map did a crappy job,” I said, standing.
“I made the map. It’s the handler who did the crappy job. Not the mapmaker.”
Grant turned, pushing a branch out of his way as he walked. “How did you even get to this part of the woods?” he said. “I swear, it’s like you searched for the most snake-ridden area, then decided to sit down right in the middle of it. You know what
a rattlesnake is, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said. “They rattle.”
“Among other things, like biting you.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I said, trying to keep Grant’s pace.
When we reached the edge of the woods, the sun was hovering over the horizon. Grant turned, frustration flickering over his face until it neutralized to something unreadable.
“Head to the counselor cabin near the camp office,” he said.
“Is that an order?”
“No. It was a request,” he said, rolling his eyes. He let out a long breath and turned the opposite way, taking long strides through the grass. “I’ll be there in a minute. I need to do something first.”
“Like find a clean shirt?” I said, turning the opposite way.
“It would be clean if I didn’t have to stalk you all over the woods,” he said behind me.
I trekked the dirt path, heading toward the counselor cabin. When I passed, a group of counselors gathered on cabin one’s porch eyed me quietly. My muddy, sweaty, mosquito-eaten appearance had to make one heck of a first impression. Hello. I’m the swamp thing. Nice to meet you.
Near the camp office, the counselor cabin’s porch was vacant. I took its steps one at a time, crossing the creaky wooden planks toward the door at the front. Inside the cabin, the air conditioner’s chill mixed with the dampness of my shirt. I rubbed my arms; goose bumps covered my skin as I walked the wood floor.
A navy-and-white plaid couch sat in the middle of the living room. Worn cushions and frayed edges on the arm gave it an aged feel. I plopped onto it, grabbing one of two plaid pillows tossed haphazardly on the cushion. Grant entered a few minutes later, the screen door closing loudly behind him.
“I half expected to show up and find out you’d gone to the wrong cabin,” he said, tossing a granola bar at me. “At least you paid attention to something other than my backside.”
“It was only temporary,” I said, holding my ground despite heat flooding my cheeks. He wasn’t wrong.
He chuckled, plopping into the chair across from me. “At least Loraine paired me up with someone with a sense of humor. I’ll give her credit for that.”
“That was nice,” I said, looking at him.
“Nice enough for you to request a job change?”
“A bet is a bet,” I said, scratching my arms.
Littered with red splotches from all the mosquito bites, keeping that bet would be even harder now. These stupid mosquitoes were like tiny raptors bent on destroying my happiness.
“Quit scratching,” he said, drawing my attention.
“They itch.”
“You’re in Texas at the beginning of June. What did you expect? Mosquitoes are our state bird.”
His hat hit the table and messy strands of chestnut-colored hair poked out on either side of his head. His face, tanned from the sun, was somehow sharper without the shadow of his hat. He raked his hands through his hair, smoothing the strands against his forehead.
“What possessed you to go out there anyway?” he said. “Did you just see the woods and think, Wow, that looks like a great place to go?”
“I was giving myself a camp tour, since you failed so epically at it earlier,” I said.
“You could’ve stuck with something easy like touring the junction or finding the mess hall.”
“I was trying to find the pavilion,” I said. “It was the only thing not centrally located and, because it was stuck out in the woods, it seemed like the most challenging thing on the map.”
“You like a challenge?”
“That’s how I roll.”
“Well, maybe you should think about slowing that roll,” he said. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be stuck out there all night, fending off snakes, brown recluses, and who knows what else. Maybe ghosts. Rumor round here is those woods are haunted.”
“Ghosts don’t scare me anymore,” I said, relaxing into the couch.
Grant let out a deep breath and rested the back of his head against the chair, his eyes focused on the roof. He had a point. Had it not been for him finding me, I would have still been out there.
“Besides, maybe my intention was to get lost,” I said, staring at him. “Maybe I wanted to spend an afternoon admiring the beauty of Camp Kenton’s forest.”
“I’m calling bull,” he said, shaking his head. “You got yourself lost, then had to wait on someone to come and find you since you were too stubborn to ask me to show you around. I heard you rambling about how you thought you were going to die out there. Whatever happened to perseverance and effort? It was like you were content to sit out there and be miserable.”
“I was tired and I’d already wandered the woods to the point where trying to find my way out was doing more harm than good,” I said. “Get off me about it and focus on something productive, ’kay?”
“Still have that attitude, huh?”
“It’s a permanent feature,” I said. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, you were the one who made it a point to tell me I was incapable and undeserving of my position.”
“Which ended up being true, since you decided to spend your day out in the woods instead of actually doing something productive.” He eyed my face, his expression unreadable. “Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but on top of all your other missing qualifications, you’re currently the only counselor who hasn’t set up her cabin. Congrats.”
“Are you kidding me?” I groaned.
“Nope,” he said. “That little adventure got you more behind than you already are.”
“It wasn’t an adventure. I was proving a point.”
“That you could get lost?”
I scowled and nestled into the couch, ignoring the pair of hazel eyes staring at me from across the room. I could sleep now and move mountains in the morning. How’s that for an inspirational quote?
“You would have been better off staying with me. I could have helped you find the beds. I could have helped you find the bedding for the beds. Heck, I could have helped you get the place cleaned up and bug free, but no. You decided to lose yourself in the woods. Epic fail.”
I turned my head, narrowing my eyes at him. “You do realize you’re stuck with me, don’t you, and that a fail for me is a fail for cabin two?”
He smiled. “Oh, so now you want to be a team?”
“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be?”
“It is,” he said. “Except I think we can both agree that this team is probably going to be far from fifty-fifty. I’m going to be the one loaded down with responsibilities. You’re going to be the one messing everything up and adding to that list of responsibilities. The writing is on the wall.”
I laughed a little, biting back irritation sizzling in my blood. So confident. So fully mistaken on whom he was actually dealing with.
“All right,” I said, sitting straighter. “Let’s get one thing straight, Grant. I might be way out of my element here, but I don’t put up with crap from people back home and I’m not putting up with it from you. I appreciate that you came and rescued me from the forest, because yeah that was an idiot move on my part, but don’t get it twisted. It might take a minute, but I will get my footing here. When that happens, you had better get the hell out of my way or I’ll run you over. ’Kay?”
He studied me, quiet intensity burning behind his hazel eyes. The look made my heart pound. Anger. Frustration. Attraction. Too many emotions playing at my nerves.
Either way, this summer had to work. Grant could play nice, or spend the rest of his summer in co-counselor hell. The choice was totally up to him.
I cleared my throat and pushed myself off the couch.
“Where you going?” he said.
“To work on my side of our cabin,” I said, heading for the door. “Got to make sure we keep this thing fifty-fifty, right?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “I look forward to seeing what you actually bring to this partnership.”
“Personality,” I
said, crossing the threshold. “Since I’m the only one with it.”
The screen door closed loudly behind me, late-afternoon heat warming my bones. I took the path to cabin two, passing counselors gathered on cabin one’s porch. I was the uncool kid at the party, killing their conversation as soon as I was in earshot. Their murmurs stayed low until I crossed cabin two’s porch. I pushed my way through the door on the right, immediately gagging as the putrid smell of must burned my nostrils.
“Oh. My. God,” I said, pinching my nose as I stared at the dusty interior.
The room’s wooden floors were covered in a thick layer of red dirt, looking like a broom hadn’t been taken to them since 1985. In addition, the wall unit wasn’t on, creating a blistering hot interior that clung to the stale scent with a steel grip. I gagged, doing a one-eighty in less than ten seconds.
“Never mind,” I said, heaving in clean air. “I’ll work on being fifty-fifty tomorrow.”
In front of the cabin beside me, five strangers looked my way. I let out a hacking cough, ignoring them as Grant joined the group.
“Needs a little bit of work,” he said, smiling. “I’ll work on my personality. You work on that.”
4
Disaster
No amount of luck could fix the disaster known as my side of cabin two.
As the sun faded into darkness, I surrendered to dirt and grime. I woke up the next morning with the sun peeking through the windows of the counselor cabin. Sleeping in cabin two, in its current state, was like asking to get sick. Not happening.
My neck ached from the worn-out couch cushions, my back from hours spent trying to scrub my side of cabin two. Against my better judgement, I attemped to fix my side of the cabin. Mistake number one million and three.
I stood, slowly, creeping across the counselor cabin’s wooden floor to the bathroom, where I spent the next forty-five minutes trying to get ready.
Halfway through my makeup routine, a teenager with a patterned head wrap and a massive makeup bag stopped in front of the bathroom door. Her dark brow furrowed, her mouth splitting into a wide grin.
Last Chance Summer Page 4