Last Chance Summer

by Shannon Klare

  “You making your move?” he said.

  “You really think it will work?”

  “Can’t hurt,” he said. “Just remember to take the road straight. There’s a small marker to let you know you’re on the right path, but if you miss it, keep following the road. If you hit the woods, you’ve gone too far.”

  “And if I’m not back by dawn, you’ll come and find me?” I said, half-serious.

  “Found you the first time,” he said, smiling. “Why wouldn’t I find you the second time?”

  He stepped away, flagging down his group. Once they surrounded him, he deflected their attention while I gathered my own group. We walked slowly behind the rest of the pack, letting the space between us grow. Once everyone was out of sight, I faced my girls.

  “I know we’re supposed to be heading back to camp, but we’re going to arts and crafts,” I whispered. “If anyone sees us, head back and I’ll cover it. Don’t get caught.”

  “This isn’t approved?” Brie said, a smile playing at her lips.

  “No. Which is why you need to run if anyone spots us,” I said, crossing my arms. “Understand?”

  “Oh, we could totally get kicked out of camp for this,” Jess said, her smile wider than Brie’s.

  “I’m the quickest person in the freshman class,” Steff said. “If they want to kick me out of here, they’ve got to catch me first.”

  “That’s right!” Jess said, giving her a high five.

  I shushed them again, turning toward the path that was supposed to lead to arts and crafts. The trees were heavier the farther we got, but they were spaced out enough to keep them from being full-on woods. My eyes strained to see the road, the dirt often covered by overgrown grass.

  “It should be about three minutes that way,” I said, pointing. “Watch for snakes and spiders, or everything else that runs around here at night.”

  “Like coyotes and stuff,” Brie said.

  I ignored her and scanned the ground instead, keeping an eye out for any unexpected critters. Despite being familiar with the swamps, my relationship with snakes was rocky at best. Especially out here, where rattlers and copperheads ruled the terrain.

  My heart pounded in my chest as a branch crunched behind us. I turned, my flashlight blinding Jules.

  “My bad,” she said, covering her eyes. “I didn’t see it.”

  I let out an exhale and turned as the gray portable-arts-and crafts building came into view. Marked with a large sign on its side, arts and crafts was almost identical to the camp office.

  “Wait out here while I get the lights on,” I said, twisting the knob.

  Given that I’d never been inside the building, how long that would take was questionable.

  “Right,” Jess said with a nod. “We’ll be patiently waiting.”

  “Wonder if we’ll get free stuff,” Brie said as I crossed the threshold.

  The oily smell of paint felt like home. The memory of a paintbrush against a canvas soothing my nerves. Inside the well-air-conditioned room, the vents hummed with life. My flashlight beam ricocheted off shelves filled with art supplies, casting shadows on the walls.

  “I need to come out here more,” I said, crossing the room. I flipped the light switch on the other side. The ceiling’s fluorescent bulbs crackled to life.

  Footsteps crossed the tiled floors, and my girls chatted idly among themselves as they entered the room. Instead of talking to them, though, I scouted the different varieties of paints on the shelf.

  “This place is amazing,” I said, grabbing a bottle of Artisan oil paint.

  “Not if it’s one of three places you’re allowed to go,” Brie said behind me. “Anyway, question: Can we get some supplies for free? I want to make one of those friendship bracelets everyone else is making, but there isn’t enough money on my card.”

  “She’s a counselor,” Steff said, grinning. “I don’t think she’s allowed to let us steal.”

  “I don’t think it will be a big deal, as long as we don’t use a ton,” I said, looking at them.

  “Ooh. Not totally rectangular,” Jess said.

  “Meaning?”

  “You like to stay inside the box,” Brie said. “It’s cool. Some people can’t help it.”

  I flickered my attention between them, studying each for their level of seriousness. When no one cracked a smile, I hesitated. “You call sneaking out here being inside the box?” I said, grinning. “That’s like textbook rule breaker.”

  “You broke the rules once,” Jess said, crossing her arms. “That hardly counts as being rebellious.”

  “You don’t know me,” I said, looking at her. “Believe it or not, I rarely follow the rules. Out here, I have to. That’s just the way it is.”

  “Right. Okay,” Jess said, nodding.

  “Seriously.” I stepped away from the paint, full attention on them. “Back home I’m constantly in trouble.”

  “What do you do? Skip curfew and get home around midnight?” Brie said, grinning.

  “Um, no. I stole a cop car with the guy I was dating and accidentally crashed it into a lake,” I said.

  Silence.

  My attempt at trying to relate to them teetered on the edge of disaster. I wanted them to relate to me, but not at the expense of totally exposing my past. The cop-car incident seemed to be easier to explain than confessing my part in Nikki’s death.

  After a minute, Brie crossed her arms. “I call total BS.”

  “Call it whatever you want,” I said, shrugging, “but it’s the truth. Oh, plus, also, my dad is the town sheriff. Yeah. Didn’t go down too well.”

  “OMG, that’s epic,” Steff said, crossing the room. A glint of amusement simmered behind her brown eyes. “Was it his car you stole?!”

  “Negative,” I said. “It was a random one from the station. We grabbed the first pair of keys we could find and took it before anyone realized.”

  “Epic,” Jess said, smiling.

  “Yeah,” I said. “And I was epically grounded. It was one of the most boring house arrests in the history of people. Point is, I’m not this wholesome counselor you think I am. I’m just a person who’s trying to make it through the summer while attempting to follow the rules. Something I think you can all appreciate, since you’re walking thin ice here too.”

  “And you think this makes us the same?” Brie said, quirking a brow.

  “I think it makes us more the same than you realize,” I said, nodding. “While I can’t bend the rules for y’all every day, I can try to meet you halfway on some things. But that means you have to meet me halfway too. If you can’t, we’ll all spend the summer miserable. I’d rather get along.”

  I let out a long breath, surveying the room. The girls eyed each other, their expressions neutral.

  “Do you think we can do that?” I said. “Or do I need to plan on being miserable?”

  “I think we can compromise,” Brie said, looking at me. She extended her hand, a smile on her face. “Deal?”

  “Deal,” I said, shaking it.

  “Great,” Jess said, walking backward. She hauled an old-school boom box from the corner of the room, setting it on the table with a thud. “So, what do you say we get this party started? I’ve got the music.”

  “What is that thing?” Brie said, scrunching her nose.

  “No idea,” Jess said. “All I know is you turn the button and it makes the radio play. Kira had it on yesterday, when I was grabbing a new sketch pad.”

  She flipped a switch and country blared from the speakers. Cringing, Jess immediately flipped to the next station. It landed on some sort of pop-hits station, playing a song I recognized.

  “This is good,” I said, nodding. “Just make sure it isn’t loud enough for anyone to hear us. They’ll be doing counselor patrols later. We’re on a limited time schedule.”

  “And she’s already back to being rectangular,” Brie said, grinning.

  I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to the paint. Almost an
hour later, I had pulled a canvas from the wall, started a rough sketch, and was mentally working out which colors to use in the background. My attention lifted for a fraction of a second, landing on the clock across the room. At 11:25, it was past time for patrols. Counselors would be by any minute.

  “We need to pack it up,” I said, straightening. “Just take whatever you’ve got and work on it when we’re back at the cabin.”

  “I was almost done,” Brie said, holding up a red-and-blue-toned bracelet.

  “If we don’t go now, you’ll have more to worry about than whether or not you finished your bracelet,” Jess said, carrying an oblong container of multicolored sand art. She unplugged the radio, leaving the room silent.

  Brie glanced at her over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. “You’re such a killjoy, Jessica.”

  “Call me Jessica one more time,” Jess said, glaring at her.

  Steff and Jules pulled their stuff from the tables, both of them heading for the door while I returned the rest of my paint to the shelf. Once the space was clean, I flipped the lights off and met everyone outside.

  We walked the path in the dark, Jess handling the flashlight while I toted my canvas through the trees.

  “Do you paint back home?” she said, glancing at the picture.

  “When I can,” I said. I shifted my grip on the picture, swatting mosquitoes as they swarmed my arms. “I hate these things,” I said, slapping my arm. “They’ve been on me since I got here.”

  “They’re terrible,” Jess said, laughing. “I swear they’re worse at camp.”

  “They’re worse here than in Louisiana,” I said, exiting the trees.

  Once we reached our cabin, the creaking of the porch beneath our feet ruined any hope of staying quiet.

  “But why is it so loud?” Brie whispered.

  “Because it’s old?” Jess said, opening the door.

  “You know, that was a rhetorical—what the hell?!” Brie said, crossing the threshold.

  I picked up my pace, the shock in her voice making my pulse increase. “What’s wrong?” I said.

  Jess stepped out of the way, pointing at the scene inside. My heart stopped; a white wonderland of toilet paper covered every square inch of the room.

  “I’m going to kill him,” I said, turning the opposite direction.

  I brushed past the other three girls, heading straight for Grant’s door. My fists beat against the screen, louder than they should have.

  Grant opened the door, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Welcome back,” he said.

  “Welcome back my ass,” I said, pointing at my door. “What is that?”

  “What is what?” he said.

  I shook my head, trying to keep my own smile at bay. “Cut the crap, Grant. We both know you toilet papered my cabin. Own up to it and save me the trouble of dragging a confession out of you.”

  “What would dragging out a confession entail?”

  “I swear,” I said, laughing.

  He leaned against the door frame, shirtless and wearing a pair of athletic pants. “I’ll have you know I was hanging out with my guys most of the night,” he said. “We stayed in, unlike you and your girls.”

  “Uh-uh. You encouraged that outing,” I said, poking him in the chest. “That didn’t give you permission to do your own cabin bonding in the form of toilet papering my side. Now get a broom, get a trash bag, and get yourself over there to clean up your mess. I’m exhausted, and I’m not sleeping on a bed covered in toilet paper.”

  “Your cabin, your responsibility,” he said, grinning. “Besides, it’s against the rules for any boys to step foot in there. I’m not going to be a bad example for these impressionable youths. One of us has to be the responsible one.”

  “Grant, shut up and go clean it.”

  “Hard pass. Thanks, though.”

  I crossed my arms, sighing as I glanced at my girls. “The longer we stay out here debating this, the bigger chance I have at getting caught,” I said, looking at him. “Stop being stubborn and get over there.”

  “I’m serious,” he said. “I’m not going in there after dark. That’s a major risk to my position. A risk I’m not willing to take.”

  I pulled my lip between my teeth, trying to keep my smile from making the situation less serious than it was. “If you make me spend the rest of my night cleaning up that toilet paper, I’m going to get you back,” I said. “Think long and hard about whether it’s worth it.”

  “It’s worth it,” he said, shutting the door.

  My mouth fell open as I glared at the screen in front of me. If Grant thought for two seconds his charming smile and occasional moments of help would spare him from payback, he had another thing coming.

  10

  Therapy

  “Do you think they intentionally crammed it in every corner?” Steff said, leaning against a broom handle.

  I paused, standing in the middle of my mattress with a handful of two-ply. “Yes,” I said. “I think the whole thing was done to make our lives as difficult as possible. Don’t be surprised if they also crammed it in your shoes, shampoo bottles, or any other random place they could find.”

  “Found snippets in my makeup kit this morning,” Brie said, nodding. “Ruined the only foundation I brought out here. My face is the real victim.”

  “You stole that foundation from me, anyway,” Jess said, scrunching her nose. “Guess karma finally rolled around.”

  “You never wore it,” Brie said.

  “Maybe I never wore it because you took it before I could,” Jess said.

  “Okay,” I said, flickering my attention between them. “You two are supposed to be thinking up revenge plans, not arguing over foundation. We’ve got breakfast in approximately ten minutes. Please tell me you’ve thought up something by now.”

  “I have something in mind,” Jess said, grabbing toilet paper off the ground. “But it requires some baby oil, some duct tape, and a large tarp.”

  “We aren’t trying to kill them,” Brie said, laughing.

  “I’m not trying to kill them,” Jess said. “I just want to harm them a little.”

  “With baby oil, duct tape, and a tarp?” I said, arching a brow.

  “Slippery floors,” Jess said.

  “And how exactly does the—” The bell rang outside, drawing my attention. “Never mind,” I said, setting a trash bag near the door. “Hold that thought and tell me later.”

  “But it’s brilliant!” Jess said.

  “I’m sure it is, but those boys will be heading for food and I don’t want any of our plan leaving this room.” I grabbed a handful of toilet paper, tossed it in a trash can beside the bed, and headed for the door. When I crossed the threshold outside, most of the cabin two guys stood on the road below.

  Smiles graced their faces, amusement running rampant.

  “Just wait,” I said, glaring at Grant. “Payback will be worse.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, watching me.

  He held two travel mugs today, one his usual and the other an iridescent shade. He handed me the iridescent one. The bitter smell of coffee piqued my senses.

  “Bribery will only get you so far,” I said, sipping.

  “This isn’t a bribe, it’s a peace offering,” he said.

  “Same thing.” I sipped the steaming liquid. The hazelnut undertones burned their way through my mind—Nikki’s favorite flavor.

  “Either way, it isn’t working,” I said, shaking away the memory. “My girls are bitter. You could bring me Starbucks and it wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “Good, because there isn’t a Starbucks in a forty-mile radius,” Grant said, nudging me.

  I nudged him back, my eyes on the mess hall. “I was up past one, trying to get the room situated enough it was sleepable.”

  “See this,” he said, rubbing his pointer finger and thumb together. “It’s the world’s smallest violin.”

  I hit him in the arm and he laughed.r />
  “I could report you for violence,” he said.

  “Report me and you’ll only be making things worse for yourself,” I said.

  “Ooh, I’m scared,” he said, grinning.

  “You should be. You just started a war.”

  He sipped his coffee again, eyeing me over the rim. “Right. Okay. Just remember to put your hostility aside long enough to be a decent team member in the counselor basketball game. We can’t bring that drama to the team.”

  I choked on my coffee, warmth draining from my face. “Um, I don’t play basketball,” I said.

  “If you’re a counselor, you play,” he said. “It’s mandatory.”

  “Mandatory?!”

  “Did you not read the welcome manual?”

  I shot him a side-eye. “There was no welcome manual. This is some plan you’ve concocted in your head. Freak out Alex before nine o’clock and get a sticker. Not today, Satan.”

  “Except it’s been on the schedule from day one,” he said.

  “I didn’t read the schedule!”

  “Personal problem,” he said, laughing.

  I shifted my weight, dread swirling in my stomach. “There’s a spot for managers. Right? I’ll be responsible for all the water bottles or something.”

  “You have to play,” he said. “All of the counselors play. It gives the kids an opportunity to root for their cabin. Creates cabin unity or whatever bonding term Loraine wants to call it.”

  “My girls won’t want to bond with me when they realize they got the crappy end of the stick and ended up with a counselor who literally has zero athletic ability,” I said. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “They’re going to disown me.”

  “If it helps, I’m playing too,” Grant said. “I can make a hoop or two and compensate for your lack of skills. It’ll be fine.”

  “Yeah. You’ll get all the glory and I’ll be the disappointment,” I said.

  “It’s all about the optimism, Alex.”

  “No, this situation calls for a substantial dose of pessimism,” I said, walking again.

  He opened the door to the mess hall. The smell of bacon and eggs clung to the air. We got through the line quickly and found a place at cabin two’s unusually crowded table. Our group of campers were scattered across the seats, the boys doing most of the talking while my girls threatened to prank them back.