by C. J. Hill
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know …”
He walked past her shaking his head, which she supposed meant that tipping them was out of the question. She followed after him awkwardly. He picked up his pace. Not only were these guys strong, they weren’t going to wait for her. She tried to keep up, but her platform sandals proved more decorative than useful, and pebbles and bits of twigs wedged into them as she walked. With every step, she fell farther behind.
This was off to a great start.
“Maybe she isn’t—,” the blond said to his friend in a voice low enough that most people wouldn’t have heard it. Tori’s hearing had always been exceptional.
“Dr. B thinks she is. Why else would she be here?”
If the blond had an answer to this question, he didn’t give it, which was too bad. Tori was beginning to wonder herself.
The guys hauled her luggage into the lodge. Instead of setting her suitcases next to the front desk, where younger campers stood in noisy lines waiting to check in, the two went around the desk and down a hallway. The blond knocked on a door, only then glancing back to see if Tori had followed.
A voice called, “Come in,” and the guys disappeared inside. Tori went in, too, taking off her sunglasses to let her eyes adjust to the light. The room looked like any small office: shelves lined the wall and a large metal desk was parked in the middle of the room. Books, pencils, and photos frames cluttered its surface. A middle-aged man with wire-rimmed glasses smiled as she walked over. He was tall, slightly overweight, and his thick gray hair had a sort of Einstein disarray to it. He had no wrinkles to match the gray hair, though, and it gave him the odd appearance of being both old and young.
His office window looked out on the parking lot. He had probably seen her struggling with her luggage and sent these guys out to help her. He’d undoubtedly also seen her reaction, and now before she’d even registered, she’d done something wrong.
Tori wished she was more like Aprilynne, who didn’t care what she said, but Tori felt the weight of her father’s job too keenly. Politicians stayed in office by making friends, not insulting people. Their daughters were supposed to do the same.
The man held his hand out to her. She’d been wrong about the wrinkles. His eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Welcome to Dragon Camp. You’re Victoria Hampton?” He had the hint of an accent, but she couldn’t place it. British maybe? Australian?
She shook his hand. “I go by Tori.”
“Tori, then.” He gave her another smile, which was good news. He probably wouldn’t have kept smiling if he was going to yell at her for assuming everyone at camp was either a thief or a menial worker. She relaxed, but only slightly. Why was she here instead of out in the registration line?
“I’m the camp director, Dr. Bartholemew. Most everyone calls me Dr. B. It’s easier.”
She remembered reading about him in the camp literature. He was a professor of medieval studies at George Mason, which was why his class was good for college credit.
Tori cast a quick glance at the two guys. Both had taken off their sunglasses, and it didn’t make her feel better to see they were both on the extremely warm side of hot—as in, way to make a fool of herself in front of what were likely to be the only cute guys her age here.
She turned back to Dr. B with an inward sigh.
“I’ve always admired your dad,” he said.
“Thanks.” She wasn’t sure whether to be surprised that he knew her father was a senator. Hopefully her mother hadn’t called and made a big deal about it. Sometimes her mom liked to throw the title around to drum up preferential treatment. Tori could imagine her phoning and saying things like, “You have adequate supervision, don’t you? The boys and girls cabins are chaperoned? It would be such bad publicity for your camp if anything happened to a senator’s daughter …”
“I’m glad you could join us at Dragon Camp,” Dr. B went on. He glanced at the guys and some hidden meaning passed between them before Dr. B returned his attention to Tori. “I noticed from your application that you signed up for the advanced section of horseback riding and fencing. You’ve done those before?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t sign up for the tae kwon do class.”
“I’m already a fourth-degree black belt.”
“Ahh.” He sent another meaningful look to the guys. “Any other lessons you’ve taken?”
“Ice skating.” She had been competing since age twelve and had a shelf full of state and regional trophies to show for it. Her coach kept telling her she could go to nationals if she put in more practice time.
“Have you ever used a rifle?” Dr. B asked. “Gone hunting, perhaps?”
“I’ve done target practice.” Her father had originally taken her shooting to impress his NRA supporters, but she’d liked it and had kept going. “Why do you ask?”
Dr. B clasped his hands behind his back and grinned. “I’m always curious to see what kind of people come to our camp. You’ll find you have a lot in common with many of the other campers.” He gestured in the direction of the guys. “Both Dirk and Jesse are black belts, as well. Jesse is the state champion for his age in fencing, and Dirk, well, one day I think we’ll see him win a medal for archery.”
If Dr. B thought this information would make them feel friendlier, it didn’t work. Both guys regarded her with expressions that were at best guarded and at worst disapproving. She wondered which was Dirk and which was Jesse.
The blond was probably the one most girls would go for first. He was good-looking in a flashy, sensual sort of way, and he had a swagger in his walk that said he knew it. His hair was a little too long and scruffy, but when you had a square jaw and perfect features, you could get away with that sort of thing. Tori tended to avoid guys that were cocky, though. They always ended up being trouble.
The brunet was handsome in a serious, understated way that Tori liked best. She let her eyes linger on him for a moment. His eyes were dark and piercing, as though they knew secrets.
“I see you signed up for the dragon mythology class,” Dr. B continued. “You have an interest in that topic?”
She had played an imaginary game of knights as a child, read every book she could find about dragons, and for the last few years perused websites on the subject. She probably knew more about dragons than Dr. B. “Yes,” she said.
“Then I’ll look forward to talking with you about them this afternoon in class.” He gave a pronounced nod, signaling the interview had ended. “Dirk and Jesse will take you down to your cabin.”
“Which cabin?” the brunet asked.
“Number twenty-seven,” Dr. B said.
The guys glanced at each other and then back at Dr. B. “You’re sure?” the blond asked.
“Quite,” Dr. B said, then smiled at Tori. “You’re in the same cabin as my daughter, Bess. She’ll be here tomorrow. Right now she’s busy with …” he hesitated, “something important.”
He made it sound mysterious, but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to Tori. “I hope you’ll fit in well here. I hope it very much.”
Tori’s name was printed across the top of the paper, with her schedule listed underneath. She noticed, without trying to, that hers had been the only schedule on his desk.
The brunet picked up her largest suitcase, swung it onto his shoulder, and headed out the door. The blond picked up her smaller suitcase and shoulder bag, then left, too. Tori had no choice but to go after them. As she shut the door behind her, Dr. B murmured, “Now if we could only find Ryker.”
But she could have heard wrong. It was an odd phrase for a person to say as he stood alone in a room.
CHAPTER 2
Tori hurried after Dirk and Jesse. They weren’t waiting around for her. It was clear they didn’t want to help her, which made her feel worse about having them carry her luggage. She followed them out of the door and around the side of the building to where a row of dusty, golf cart–looking
vehicles stood. The guys hefted her luggage onto a rack, then climbed in the front seat, leaving the backseat open for her. As she got in, she glanced upward and noticed a small black camera perched on the corner of the roof. It didn’t seem that unusual until her gaze drifted to the trees behind the building. Another camera was nestled into the branches, half-hidden in the leaves. Was there enough crime at this camp that they needed that much surveillance?
The brunet started up the cart. It was the noisy, gas-powered kind. He drove around the building and toward the cabins, not slowing for any bumps or curves in the trail. As he drove, he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and made a call. “She’s on her way, so tell Lilly and Alyssa to move their junk off the extra bed.” After a pause he said, “You’ll see soon enough.”
He was talking about her like she wasn’t even there. Well, they had started out on the wrong foot, and apparently they were still there.
She tried to make amends by leaning forward across the back of the guys’ seat and giving them her best politician smile. “What were your names again?”
“Dirk,” the blond one said.
“Jesse,” the brunet answered.
Jesse. She rolled the name around her tongue, nearly saying it out loud. It suddenly became a perfect name for ruggedly handsome guys. Then she made herself stop staring at him. She hadn’t come here to meet guys. She had a sort-of boyfriend back home. Roland. He had been president of her sophomore class, spoke fluent French—his dad had worked at the embassy in Paris—and he was a straight-A student. He was only a sort-of boyfriend because they’d started dating at the end of the school year. By the time she got back from camp, he would be vacationing in Europe. Who knew how they’d feel about each other when school started again.
“Thanks for taking me to my cabin,” Tori said.
Dirk stretched his legs. “Don’t mention it. We’re glad to do it since the bellhops have the day off.”
Yeah. It was probably best not to comment on that subject. Tori scanned the map that had come with her registration information, then scanned it again. The cabin numbers only went up to twenty-five.
“Where exactly is cabin twenty-seven?”
Jesse momentarily slowed down to weave around some kids who walked across the trail. “Twenty-six and twenty-seven aren’t part of the main camp. A group of us have come here for the last four or five years. Since we’re older, Dr. B lets us have cabins that are off by themselves.”
So that was why Dr. B had sent her to cabin 27 and why the guys resented it. She wasn’t one of the regulars, but was too old to be with the rest of the campers.
And that meant she’d be seeing a lot of these guys during the month. She tried to think of some small talk that would help erase the awkwardness between them. “Five years. You must love this camp a lot.” As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. They probably kept coming back because they were here on scholarship and couldn’t afford to go anywhere else.
Really, all of her father’s lessons on tact had deserted her.
“Oh yeah, I love it,” Dirk said, with a tinge of sarcasm. “Mostly I love how we get to sleep in every day.”
Tori checked the schedule in her hand to make sure she hadn’t misread it. Nope. Breakfast was from 8:00 until 9:00. Her first class started at 9:30. That didn’t seem too early. Maybe Dirk was one of those guys who liked to sleep until noon.
Jesse momentarily turned his head to appraise her. A flash of intrigue went through his brown eyes. “So what brings you here this summer?”
She didn’t answer right away. It had been the lure of being with other people who spoke about dragons as if they existed. It had been, she thought dryly, her inner geekiness. Or worse, it was some broken part of her that didn’t quite grasp reality the way it should. She hadn’t been able to explain it to her own parents. She certainly couldn’t talk about it to near strangers.
She shrugged. “It looked interesting.”
Dirk cracked a smile, revealing perfect teeth. “Well, you’re right about that, at least.”
They left the groupings of cabins, then drove past some stables. The calls and noise of the other campers faded and then completely disappeared. They kept driving down an uneven trail until it finally became more of a suggestion than an actual path. Birds, squirrels, and rabbits bounded away from the clatter and buzz of the cart.
“Just how far away is cabin twenty-seven?” Tori asked.
“Two miles,” Dirk said. “It takes about ten minutes in the cart, and then another five minutes of walking.” He cast a look back at her sandals. “Well, it’s five minutes if you’re wearing normal shoes.”
Two miles? Was he serious?
They breezed past a bright orange sign that read ENTERING PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO TRESPASSING.
This couldn’t be right. The guys were playing some sort of practical joke on her. Perhaps they had been so insulted by the parking lot incident they’d decided to drop her off in the forest and leave her to find her own way.
Tori leaned forward again. “Um, are we going in the right direction? That sign said ‘No Trespassing.’”
Jesse remained unconcerned. “Don’t worry,” he said, one hand casually draped over the steering wheel. “I know where I’m going.”
Dirk shrugged. “And even if we did wander off camp property, it’s still illegal to shoot trespassers.” He leaned back in his seat nonchalantly. “Of course, that doesn’t mean they can’t set their dogs on us.” He glanced over at Jesse. “You think this baby could outrun a pack of angry dogs?”
“Sure,” Jesse said. “Unless they’re big. Or fast.”
Dirk turned back to Tori. “We’ll be fine then. Most backwoodsmen only own poodles and Yorkies.”
Tori looked back at the trail, trying to gage how far they’d come. “Um, yeah. Does Dr. B know you guys go joy riding in the woods in his cart?”
“Relax,” Dirk said. “This is the way to our cabins. The sign is just there to keep the regular campers from wandering into the advanced camp. They’re not allowed down here, so don’t even tell them about it.”
“Uh-huh.” It was not only two miles away, it was a secret camp. Tori got out the map and looked over it again. There was no mention of an advanced camp, and both the cafeteria and her dragon mythology class were in the main area. Having cabins two miles away didn’t make any sense. The advanced campers would have to carpool—or rather cart pool—back there every day. Why not just build cabins that were closer?
With every moment that passed, Tori was more sure this was some sort of prank or camp initiation. The guys were going to drop her and her luggage in the middle of nowhere and she would have to find her way back. She would be like Hansel and Gretel, but with designer luggage and no bread crumbs.
Then the cart went through an opening in the trees, and there it was: not just two log cabins but a completely different camp. It had another set of stables, a large grassy field, a good-size bathroom—that meant flush toilets—and three other buildings lined up around the field. One small, one large, and one that was long and flat.
“What are those?” she asked.
“Those are buildings,” Dirk said.
“What kind of buildings?” she asked, annoyed by his evasiveness.
He considered them with mock contemplation. “Rectangular ones.”
Very funny.
Jesse said, “The big one is the Dragon Hall, the long one is the indoor rifle range, and you don’t have to worry about the small one.”
She hadn’t been worried, just curious, but she didn’t ask any other questions. One of her father’s axioms was: Sometimes the most tactful thing you can say is nothing at all. Apparently that was the case with these guys.
Jesse drove the cart across the field and to the back of the rifle range, where three other carts were already parked. Jesse and Dirk got out, hefted her luggage from the back, and headed toward the cabins. She was fine while she walked across the grassy field, but the dirt path from the field to th
e cabins was littered with twigs and pebbles, which kept getting lodged in her sandals. She had to stop more than once to pull things out.
Two teenage guys on horses came out of the forest and ambled in their direction. They both looked to be about Tori’s age. The first—who seemed to be more shoulders and muscles than anything else—smiled cautiously as he rode up. His sandy blond hair was cropped short and he had easy, likeable features. With his tan plaid shirt, he reminded her of a lumberjack or a cowboy. “So you’re the new girl?” he asked with a southern drawl.
Cowboy. Definitely.
“I’m Tori Hampton.”
“Senator Hampton’s daughter,” Jesse added, and maybe only she noticed the contempt in his voice. He didn’t stick around for further introductions. He and Dirk kept walking toward the cabins, hauling her luggage toward the one with a 27 painted above the doorway.
“I’m Kody,” the broad shouldered guy said and motioned to the other rider. “This here is Shang.”
Shang nodded. He was muscular, too; you just didn’t notice it so much next to Kody. His shiny, black hair was neatly combed, his brown eyes thoughtful. He was the only one of the guys who looked entirely clean. No streaks of dirt smudged his clothes or skin, and his black riding boots shined. He was probably one of those meticulous people who never threw their clothes on their bed. He smiled at her briefly, then went back to studying her.
She realized how they must see her, standing there in pressed white cotton shorts, a linen blouse, and impractically fashionable sandals. She hadn’t given a second thought to her manicured fingernails and toenails, to the blonde highlights her stylist had worked through her long, honey brown hair, or the gold rings on her fingers and topaz studs in her ears. Everyone at her school dressed this way.
She had always loved that people told her she could pass for a model, but standing here overdressed, she wasn’t sure how she could escape the other stereotypes people had about models: that they were shallow, vain, stupid.
Shang gave her a half smile. “Glad to finally meet you.”
“Finally?” she asked.