Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. A while, I think.” When he looked up at me for confirmation, I added my own shrug.
“Give or take fifteen seconds.”
That made Harry and the other boys all snicker. They were laughing. They were all laughing. I felt my shoulders start to relax.
“We’re heading down to the stream to see if we can catch a giant toad. Wanna come?” one of the boys asked.
Harry froze for a moment. I stayed that way for a few more. He was already following them when he glanced over at me. “Would you tell Mom I’m catching toads?” The words came out sounding unsure almost, like he was trying a foreign language for the first time.
“Who should I tell her you’re catching toads with?” I shouted after him. He was already loping across the campgrounds with the other kids, but he must have heard me.
His head tipped, but before he could answer, one of the other boys fired off a response. “His friends. Tell her he’s catching toads with his friends.”
“His friends,” I repeated as I watched him run away, rattling off a few random facts about the genus Bufo to his fellow amphibian catchers.
We hadn’t been here for ten minutes and Harry had already made five friends. That might have been the reason I was smiling as I loaded myself up with luggage and started for the cabin.
As I was heading through the door, my mom was just coming through it. The top two buttons of her cobalt cardigan were undone and she’d slipped her loafers off. “Oh, Phoenix.” She looked over my shoulders, concern creasing the corners of her eyes when she didn’t find what she was looking for. “Where’s Harrison?”
“Off catching toads. With his friends.” Now it was me sounding like I was butchering a new language for the first time.
Mom checked behind me again, her gaze shifting to the Range Rover like she was expecting to find Harry tucked into the back, hiding. “Friends?”
I stared off in the direction the boys had disappeared and flashed my hands. “Friends.”
Mom started to smile, the kind I remembered as a little girl. “Maybe when we get home, he’ll be able to make a few friends there. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
It seemed like she was phrasing the question to herself, but I jumped in with my own thoughts. “Yeah, it would be great, Mom. When and if we return home.”
I moved to pass by her and drop the suitcases inside the cabin before my arms gave out when she turned to me. Nothing on her face gave anything away, but her eyes were wider than normal. “What do you mean? Of course we’ll be going home at the end of the summer.”
Like her eyes, her voice was just a bit off, too.
“I didn’t mean anything, Mom. Just forget I mentioned it.” After dropping the bags onto the round kitchen table, I debated my next move. I’d planned on emptying the rest of the car and then exploring what was to be home base for the summer, but that would require passing by my mom again. Locking myself up in the dusty bedroom seemed like the most appealing option given the alternatives.
I’d just made my first step in that direction when a sharp pounding sounded across the room. It was my dad beating down on his laptop. “Ben told me there was Wi-Fi up here. He promised me.” My dad’s fingers tore through his hair, making him look like some kind of mad scientist when he was done. He shoved his laptop away from him, as if its mere presence was offensive.
I watched my dad throw his arms around a few more times, my mom stuck in place, too, watching him how I was: like we barely recognized the person losing his cool in front of us.
Neither of us seemed eager to speak up, but someone had to say something before he lost any more of his marbles. “If Ben told you there’s Wi-Fi, there’s Wi-Fi, Dad.” Instead of continuing toward the bedroom, I turned and headed for the screen door again. “You probably just need a password or something. I’ll go see if I can find out what it is.”
If he’d heard me, he didn’t acknowledge it. He was too busy cursing at the screen in front of him. Where had the fun, confident dad with a smile plastered on his face gone?
“Phoenix?” Mom’s voice carried after me.
I paused but didn’t stop. “Yeah?”
“Would you mind seeing if there’s some kind of sack lunch the kitchen might have for us? With us missing lunch here and your dad not wanting to stop for anything on the drive, I’m sure Harrison and you have got to be hungry. Maybe they’ll have something to tide you two over until dinner.”
“I’m okay, but I’ll find something for Harry.” My feet were moving, carrying me away. Why they stopped, I didn’t know, but I’d been experiencing a lot of that lately: half of me wanting to go one direction while the other half wanted to go the other way. “Do you want me to grab something for you, too? Do you need anything?”
She took a moment to answer. “I’m okay,” she said, except everything about her seemed the opposite.
I knew the feeling.
I’d been all set to hate camp. That was my plan.
It became harder to keep to it once I started to explore the place. The camp might have been covered by trees, and the cabins might have been leaning hard toward the rustic side, and it might have felt like it was an entire world apart from California, but it wasn’t so bad.
Not as bad as I’d imagined when the words family camp and summer break slipped from my parents’ mouths in the same sentence.
I’d only been wandering for a few minutes—I didn’t want my dad to go totally ape-poop waiting for his precious Wi-Fi password—but it was enough for me to realize that Camp SomethingOrOther could have been a lot worse.
Not that that was an endorsement for spending an extra hour past what we had planned, but at least my outlook on the place had improved from worst summer ever to just worst summer this decade.
After weaving around the outskirts of the camp, I meandered down one of the paths that looked like it headed toward the center of camp. The place seemed to be arranged like a bike wheel—one large circle of cabins tucked into the trees, with numerous trails connecting the cabins to the hub of the camp.
Once I’d moved past the circle of cabins, the grounds thinned out and a blanket of grass covered the center of camp. It was the kind that made me want to kick my sandals off and walk barefoot through it, wiggling my toes and letting the blades tickle them. I missed grass. California and its drought situation made grass ancient history.
I would have been happy just to lie down and take a nap since I’d slept a total of three hours last night. As I trudged across the lawn, I noticed a large group of campers clustered outside the big building ahead.
One problem, though—the main, if not only, entrance to the dining hall was right behind the campers sprawled on the lawn and listening to what looked to be some kind of lesson on paddling.
I skirted as far around the group of campers as I could, hoping I could sneak into the dining hall without anyone noticing. As I got closer, I could hear someone talking to the campers. It must have been one of the counselors, but he was kind of hidden from view. All I could see was one foot sporting a muddy hiking boot, and his forearm when a bright yellow paddle would circle into view every few seconds.
I slowed my pace and adjusted my path so I was closer to the group on the lawn and tuned in to what was being said. It only took a few seconds to figure out nothing more thrilling than paddling was being discussed. He was talking about what to do if you fell from the raft into the river—“just go with the flow,” whatever that meant.
I kept moving toward the dining hall. I didn’t make it far.
Since I was still trying to check out Instructor Paddle Stroke, I missed the step leading to the porch. Well, my eyes missed it, but the toe of my sandal did not.
I went down hard. And loud. Just great, Her Gracefulness has arrived.
I didn’t need to check across the lawn to wonder if anyone had noticed my wipeout. The sudden quiet was all the confirmation I needed—nothing like easing myself into camp life and flying under the radar.<
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My knees and hands were stinging like someone had just scrubbed them raw with sandpaper, but I ignored them. Just as I was about to hoist myself up, an arm extended my way.
“You okay?”
I dusted off my knees and palms. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I replied before glancing up, which was a good thing since once I looked at him, my tongue tied into those knot thingies I’d heard about.
Hello…
Instructor Paddle Stroke was towering in front of me, holding out his hand like he was waiting for me to take it. Under normal circumstances, I would have let him give me a lift up, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance because this guy wasn’t, well…normal. In a good way.
That sounded bad, but I didn’t know how else to describe him. I couldn’t look away, but it wasn’t because he fit the hot-guy mold with, you know, the hair and the smile and the jaw thing. He was the other type. The one with enough quirks to make him interesting to look at—the kind with just enough imperfections to make him attractive.
His hair was messy in the unstyled way, and while he had clear skin, his face was marked with two largish scars—a smooth one traced across part of his upper lip and a rougher one running down his temple. From the small bump at the top of his nose, it looked like he’d broken it—at least once.
So he’d broken some bones and earned some scars—good for him. I had my own—they just weren’t as obvious.
I couldn’t tell if his eyes were more brown or green, kind of like his hair couldn’t decide if it was more blond or brown. Even his body seemed to be in some kind of tug-of-war between bulky and lanky.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” The skin between his brows creased when I stayed frozen, still staring at him like the idiot I was.
Get a grip, Phoenix. This isn’t exactly the first guy you’ve ever pasted your eyes on.
I had to force myself to look away before I could reply. “I’m sure I’m not not okay.”
“Well, that’s a start.” I could hear the smile in his voice, which made me want to look. Yeah, his smile was just as great as it sounded. Kinda crooked, his eyes grinning, too. “You can work on the rest later.”
That made me smile back. Again, like the idiot I was.
I didn’t do boy-crazy, I reminded myself. I didn’t do weak-kneed and tongue-tied and starry-eyed. I did Miss Independent. I did my own thing. I did guys-were-a-nice-perk-but-not-the-pinnacle. That was my MO.
So why in the hell was I acting like my own personal guy-stupid nightmare, grinning like a moron at this guy? Especially when I was fresh out of a failed relationship?
“Are you busy?” he asked suddenly, glancing at the group on the lawn.
Yeah, I’m busy. Checking you out…and berating myself for doing it.
“No,” I said, forgetting all about what I’d been “busy” doing before my tumble heard around the camp.
“Would you mind helping me with something?”
“No,” I said, realizing one word too late I had no idea what I’d just agreed to.
“I’m going to need your help over there.” He tipped his head toward the lawn and campers. When he lowered his hand again, waiting, I shoved off the porch and lifted myself up. I could barely look at the guy—game over if I actually touched him.
He started heading for the lawn, checking over his shoulder to make sure I was following.
“What exactly do you need my help with?” I asked, trying not to check out the way his hips moved when he walked…or the way his butt looked in action.
I needed an intervention. A reality-check bitch-slap. I needed to stop noticing all that was so right about this guy, and latch on to whatever I could dig up that was wrong. I started repeating the phrase If it looks too good to be true, it probably is through my head.
“I’m going to use you to show everyone how to fit a life jacket.” He held a giant orange life jacket in the air, waving me forward with his other hand.
Too good to be true. Too good to be true, I hummed to myself as I walked up to him.
The cluster of campers gave a courtesy round of applause for the victim-slash-volunteer. He joined in and clapped with them.
I gave a little curtsy and reminded myself I’d made a vow to keep this summer complication- and boy-free. I had enough to deal with already.
He didn’t hesitate as he slipped behind me and stuffed my arms through the life jacket’s armholes. “To kill time, let’s play a Camp Kismet favorite, the Getting to Know You game.”
I swallowed. I would have rather walked on hot coals. With my face.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep it painless.” His head poked out from behind me like he’d known I’d be panicking over the idea of exposing my soul to a bunch of strangers.
“Where are you from?” he asked as he came around in front of me to start snapping the life jacket into place.
I exhaled. Painless. “California.”
A few hoots shot through the group.
“A fellow Californian.” He nodded at me like we shared some kind of bond now. I nodded like I knew exactly what he meant. “What part?”
“Santa Monica,” I answered.
He gave a low whistle as he snapped one of the life jacket’s buckles. “Must be nice over there. All that sand and ocean.”
I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or being serious. His face told me he was teasing, but his voice sounded serious. “What part are you from?”
There. Now it was a fair game of Getting to Know You.
“The part where we don’t have sand and ocean.”
When he fastened the next strap around my chest, I cleared my throat. He must have thought I was calling him out on his vague answer instead. That worked.
“Inglewood,” he said. “Home sweet home.”
“Oh,” I said, kind of surprised. Not that I spent a lot of time there or knew a lot of people from Inglewood, but he didn’t dress or talk like the few I did know.
“How old are you, Santa Monica?”
“Seventeen—almost eighteen.” When he finished buckling the last strap, I took a breath. I’d been holding it the whole time. “How about you? Inglewood?”
“Just turned eighteen. It was a good year to be born.” He tipped his head at me again, like we shared yet some other bond. I tipped my head, still not getting it. God, I was a wreck.
A quiet round of laughter circled through the campers who I’d forgotten were there for all of three and a half seconds. I shook my head and gave myself the proverbial kick in the butt to pull my head out of the same spot.
“So we know where you’re from now. Maybe we should know your name, too.” He punched the shoulders of the life jacket down into place. Hard. He wasn’t treating me like I was a delicate flower. Part of me liked that. The other part wasn’t so sure.
“Phoenix,” I said. Was I supposed to be speaking to him or the group? Just to be safe, I spoke loud enough that most of the campers should have been able to hear me.
“The mythical bird that rises from the ashes.” He flashed his hands at the life jacket and looked at the campers like he was suggesting this was the time for questions if there were any. I never realized putting on a life jacket required an in-depth demonstration. Seemed kind of self-explanatory. “My mom says our names are symbolic of the kind of people we become. Do you think she’s right?”
“That’s a loaded question,” I replied.
“Why’s it loaded?”
From the smirk he flashed me, he knew why. “Because if I answer one way, I’ll be admitting I’m an ashy bird, but if I answer the other way, I’ll be insulting your mom.”
He tested the tightness of my jacket by giving it a few hard tugs, followed by a series of harsh shakes. “It’s not a loaded question, I swear. Just one of those normal ones.”
I was having a conversation with a cute guy in front of a couple dozen people while wearing a giant orange life jacket. Yeah, this was a first. And hopefully a last. “Well, I wasn’t a mythical bird the last time I checked,
so I guess that answers your question.”
The corners of his eyes lined. “Are you saying my mom’s wrong? That she’s a liar?”
My shoulders sagged beneath the life jacket. Great. And now I’d offended him. From wiping out, to ogling, to offending. I don’t think I’d ever bombed a first impression worse than this one.
“What? No. Of course not. I just meant…”
He held his devastated expression for another second, right before it disappeared behind a smile that took up half his face. And then he laughed. “I’m just messing with you.”
I wanted to punch him in the arm. I wanted to shake off the life jacket and storm away. Instead, I stayed in place and let him finish laughing. How was that for calm under pressure?
“Don’t let him get to you, honey!” an older woman shouted, patting her hand in the air like she was patting my back instead. “Over time, you’ll eventually build up an immunity to Callum.”
“How many summers have you been coming to Camp Kismet, Mary Jo?” Callum asked, squinting his eyes as he looked, since the sun was blasting into his face from that angle.
“Twelve, honey.”
“And when did you finally build up your ‘immunity’ to me? Taking into account I’ve only been coming to camp for the past eight years.”
Mary Jo nudged the man beside her, who I guessed was her husband since they were rocking the same style of tracksuits, hers shocking purple and his fluorescent orange. They shared a look and a laugh. “Toward the end of last summer.”
Callum lifted a shoulder at me. “See? All you have to do is hang around me for eight summers and then you can build up your own immunity to me. Whatever that even means…” Callum shot a look at Mary Jo and her husband and grumbled. “I like to think of myself as having an infectious personality instead of one a person needs to build an immunity to.”
For a second, the campers were all quiet, looking among one another like they couldn’t believe their ears. Then they all started busting up.
“Yeah, yeah, I hope you’re all paying attention to this life jacket demonstration,” Callum growled at the crowd good-naturedly. “Your lives depend on it.”
Trusting You and Other Lies Page 3