She's Got a Way

by Maggie McGinnis

  But then she looked up into his eyes for a long moment, then at his lips. And damn. He knew he could kiss her right now—somehow knew she’d let him. But he also knew she’d regret it. She was vulnerable and exhausted, and he’d be a total ass to take advantage of it.

  She closed her eyes, breaking the moment. Then she leaned her forehead against his chest, like she didn’t want to pull away.

  “I just can’t believe none of us knew. I mean, she never went in the water. Never. How did I not even think of it? I just assumed she was being obstinate. Or that she was just trying to make sure she never again did anything that the other three do. I still can’t believe I didn’t know.”

  “Kids are good at hiding what they don’t want us to know. You know that. It’s not your fault. She never told you.”

  “I know, but Jesus, Luke. I’m usually not this obtuse. How didn’t I even wonder? It never even crossed my mind. I mean, who gets to this age and doesn’t know how to swim? It just didn’t—didn’t even occur to me.”

  He stroked her hair back from her face. “Stop beating yourself up, Gabi. Some of this is on her, you know. She should have told you.”

  “Right.” Gabi rolled her eyes. “Because that wouldn’t have been embarrassing at all for her to do.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes, willing her to stop blaming herself for what had happened.

  “The important thing here is how we move forward, right? What’s done is done. We can’t go back. We can’t undo it. But we can get to the bottom of what’s eating at these girls so that the next three weeks can be less of a disaster.”

  “Or … I can take them back to Briarwood.” She bit her lip, looking off toward the dock, and he knew she must have been running that possibility through her head for hours now.

  “Yeah, you could.”

  She snapped her eyes back to his, like she’d hoped he’d argue, not agree, and he almost smiled. Good. She didn’t really think that was the right solution.

  “Or you could stick it out here, and we could work together to make things better.”

  “Says the camp handyman saddled with a bunch of hooligans trying to drown each other.” She shook her head. “Why do you even want to help at this point? We have turned your summer completely upside down. I can’t imagine there’s any sight you’d like better right now than our taillights disappearing down that driveway.”

  He laughed quietly. “The thought has crossed my mind.”

  “So why, Luke? Why do you care about making this work?”

  He took a deep breath, stalling for time. Why, indeed? Then he pulled her close again, hugging her tightly. Was it about the kids?

  Or was it about Gabi?

  Chapter 17

  The next morning, after a solemn, quiet breakfast, Luke gathered the girls together at a circle of logs with a huge bonfire pit in the center. As Gabi looked around, she could imagine a normal summer here at Camp Echo, filled with crackling fires, campfire songs, and kids laughing as their marshmallows dropped into the flames.

  This morning, though, there was no fire, no singing, and definitely no laughter. The girls were all quiet, wary … scared. Gabi’d woken up this morning no more convinced that they should stay here than she had been last night, but after torturing herself for two hours with the pros and cons, she’d decided she needed to give Luke a chance, at least for another day.

  He hadn’t answered her question last night—had just turned her around and walked her to the tent, like he was afraid she might lose her way if he left her to do it alone. And at the tent, he’d leaned in and kissed her softly on the forehead, and that damn kiss had just about undone her. It’d been sweet and kind and oh-so-tender, and her lack of sleep this morning had just as much to do with the promise of that kiss as it had to do with her fear of going to sleep and having drowning nightmares.

  “All right.” Luke sat down on one of the logs, and as she looked at the concert T-shirt he had on, she tried not to remember what it had felt like to have her cheek against that chest last night. Tried not to think about how his arms had settled around her like they belonged there. Tried not to remember how badly she’d wanted him to really kiss her, even though it would have been spectacularly ill-advised, given the scared, emotional wreck she’d been at the time.

  She wondered if he’d wanted to kiss her.

  Eve and Waverly sat on one log, Sam on another, and Madison on a third, and every single one of them looked like they were about to face a firing squad. Sam had her knees pulled up under her too-large sweatshirt, the picture of defensiveness and fear. Madison, on the other hand, had her legs crossed, arms crossed, and if she could have gotten her eyes to cross and stick there, she might just have done it for effect.

  “Let’s talk about yesterday.” Luke looked at each of them. “Because I know it’s exactly what you all want to do this morning.”

  A snort came from one of them, but Gabi wasn’t sure who.

  “We had no idea.” Eve’s voice was quiet, pained. “Really.”

  “It was just in fun,” Waverly chimed in, her voice shaky. It occurred to Gabi that the girl had probably been up all night, worrying about what would happen this morning … wondering if she’d be called to task for her own actions, even though they’d been directed by Madison. “We never meant to hurt you, Sam.”

  Luke nodded. “I think we’ve established that this was an accident. You can each make your apologies to Sam in your own way, and I really hope that you do. It might not have been personal, but I’m sure it felt personal, and you really need to make sure you deal with that part.”

  He took a deep breath, scanning each of their faces. “She told you to stop, and you didn’t. That’s on you three.”

  Madison uncrossed her arms. “We didn’t know it was because she couldn’t swim. We just thought she didn’t want to get dumped into the lake.”

  “And that’s on her.” Luke shifted his eyes to Sam, who Gabi knew would never meet them with her own. Her head was down, and she was picking at her fingernails. “Sam? Did you know you couldn’t swim?”

  She looked up, not even bothering to disguise her sneer. “Do I really need to answer that?”

  “You never told anyone?”

  She shook her head. “It was nobody’s business. I stayed out of the water. It wasn’t an issue till Madison decided to drown me.”

  “I didn’t—” Madison stood up, angry spots of color in her cheeks. “I was trying to dunk you, not drown you. Jesus, Sam.”

  “Girls.” Gabriela’s voice was sharp. “This isn’t helping.”

  “Okay, okay.” Luke made placating motions with his hands. “Simmer down. I think it’s fair to say that nobody here intended for what happened to … happen. I’m sure it rocked all of you, no matter how big and strong you think you are. Give yourself permission to freak out a little, okay?”

  Gabi had expected them to be obstinate, pissy, snarky—like they’d been since they’d gotten here. Instead, the prevailing emotion she saw in their eyes right now was … fear. And that’s what told her they hadn’t meant to hurt Sam—they really hadn’t known she couldn’t swim.

  She took a deep breath, relieved. Throughout the night, she’d lain awake, eaten alive by the thought that maybe Madison had known … that maybe, in some convoluted, serious lapse in judgment, she’d engineered the scene on purpose, not really believing the worst could possibly happen.

  Luke let the silence linger—on purpose, she knew. Age-old technique and all. But the girls didn’t say anything more. He wasn’t getting anything else out of them.

  “I believe you,” he finally said, and he noticed their shoulders visibly relax. “I don’t think anybody here really meant to hurt anybody else. But here’s the thing. She knew she couldn’t swim. She knew why she’d been sitting on shore for a week now. She just didn’t choose to share that with anyone. And look what happened.”

  “Oh, my God.” Sam’s eyes widened. “You’re pinning
this on me?”

  “I’m not pinning it on anybody. Every single one of you has some ownership of what happened, though.” He pointed at Sam. “You didn’t share something really, really important.” Then he swept his hand across the other three. “And you didn’t listen when your friend was clearly terrified.”

  “Friend.” Sam snorted. “Yeah, that’s the word we use here.”

  Gabi sighed, wishing Sam could drop the untouchable act just for a few minutes. But after what had happened, her walls were up higher than ever. No way was Luke going to get her to be cooperative this morning.

  “I get it, Sam.” He nodded. “And if I was in your shoes, I’d be hard-pressed to use the word right now, too. What happened was scary. You’re not likely to get it out of your head for a long, long time.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Freud.”

  “Sam—” Gabi warned, but Luke put up a gentle hand to stop her.

  “You know what? Maybe you guys will never be friends.” He shrugged. “And that’s okay. Totally fine. But you do have to figure out how to live together and work together … and not kill each other—literally or figuratively—so that’s what we’re going to work on, starting today.”

  Eve narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”

  Waverly giggled, then clapped her hand across her mouth. The poor girl was a nervous wreck.

  “The first thing we’re going to do is start working as a team. A real team. Not the kind that snips and snipes and annoys the hell out of each other whenever possible.”

  “But—” Eve piped up.

  “No buts. You guys are exceptionally good at pissing each other off whenever possible. I imagine it’s your pattern at Briarwood, and I also imagine it’s a huge contributor to why you ended up here in the first place. But here’s the thing. If you don’t break this pattern, you’re going to go back to Briarwood doing the same thing, and from what I understand, every single one of you is one tiny step away from being expelled.” He stopped, scanning their faces. “Anybody anxious for that to happen?”

  Gabi honestly figured a couple of them might raise their hands at this point, but nobody did. Huh.

  “Good.” He rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, and the first thing we’re going to tackle is the very thing that got us into yesterday’s situation.”

  Madison looked up suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean … Sam’s going to learn to swim.”

  “What?” Sam looked like she might just flee the clearing and take her chances with the bears.

  “You heard me. It’s camp policy, actually, so my hands are tied. If we discover that a camper isn’t confident in the water, it’s our job to make sure that gets fixed. What I do know, after all these years, is that it’s never the camper’s fault that he or she hasn’t been taught to swim. It’s their grown-ups’ fault for never making sure they got taught.”

  Gabi cocked her head, listening to his words. She loved how he was taking the blame squarely off from Sam’s shoulders, but couldn’t tell if Sam was buying it yet.

  He continued. “So, Sam, whether you were ever given the opportunity to learn or not, the fact is, somebody failed you. And I’m really pretty ticked off at that person right now. Or those persons—I don’t know who’s responsible.” He ducked his head toward her, subtly forcing her to engage. “We won’t fail you, Sam. You will not leave here without knowing to swim. And once you do, you will no longer have to be afraid of the water, okay?”

  Sam looked up at him, a mixture of terror and—was that hope?—in her eyes.

  Madison raised her eyebrows. “Who’s going to teach her?”

  Luke looked at each of them in turn. “We’ll figure that out.”

  “Oh, hell, no.” Sam unfolded herself from her log and stood up. “I’m not taking swimming lessons from them. No way.”

  “Sam?” He said it softly, but Gabi knew nobody in the circle would miss the tone. Don’t you dare leave, it said.

  Sam rolled her eyes, but shoved her hands in her shorts pockets, leaning against a tree, making sure he knew she’d leave whenever she damn well pleased, thank you very much.

  Gabi loved that Luke let her have the win on that one.

  * * *

  That night, Gabi pulled the tent flap closed behind her, then zipped up her sweatshirt. She couldn’t sleep, and she was sick of lying on her cot wondering what every snuffle and scratch outside the tent was. She’d spent the day practically tethered to the girls as they’d finished painting the bathroom and installing the water heater with Luke, and though they’d been generally cooperative, she still didn’t know whether she’d made the right call, not putting them all in the van and heading back to Briarwood.

  The vision of the hard-hat signs tacked to the dorm doors was the main thing that had kept her from doing just that, she was afraid.

  But the bigger thing that had stopped her from begging Oliver for her battery was the fact that if they went back now, having solved nothing, they’d drive back through those school gates, settle back into their previous patterns, and probably end up expelled before October.

  It would be the end of the scholarship program at Briarwood. It would be the end of the road for Eve and Sam. They’d go back to what passed for their dismal homes, and then … Gabi took a deep breath. Then, who knew what? Would they graduate? Or would they fall into the same statistical traps that held so many of their peers hostage?

  But as much as she worried about the two of them, she couldn’t help but stew about Madison and Waverly, as well. The two of them had grown up privileged, had gotten away with minor incidents all year, and thanks to Priscilla and the entire board at Briarwood, had essentially gotten away with an actual crime just weeks ago, since the police had never been involved. So what had they learned if Gabi failed here this summer?

  They’d learned that money would pave the way, would cover their tracks, would absolve them of responsibility, while they lived by the mantra that rules applied only to other people.

  Just like Garrett.

  Gabi pictured her older brother, blond and gorgeous, full of himself and untouchable, and she shivered. He’d been a boarding-school brat just like her, but unlike her, he’d spent most of his boarding-school years getting into one sort of trouble or another. Usually it was minor stuff—typical stupid pranks—but other times, Gabi knew her own father had slid proverbial cash under proverbial tables in order to ensure that one headmaster or another would turn a blind eye to Garrett’s little crimes.

  Once she’d figured it out, she’d been disgusted. What was Garrett learning if Dad constantly used money to cover up his transgressions? And as she got older, she knew that what he was learning was that he wasn’t responsible for his actions … that no matter what he did, Dad would bail him out, because it was better than weathering the inevitable scandal that might accompany the truth getting out. Dad’s political platform—ironically enough—was founded on the ideals of honesty and transparency. A wayward son threatened that, so the wayward son was sent on a constant stream of faraway, low-profile excursions to keep him far from the spotlight.

  Countries with looser laws were a favorite destination.

  Yes, if normal societal rules had governed her brother’s upbringing—and the night that still made bile rise in Gabi’s throat—he’d be rotting in a cell right now, exactly where he belonged. Instead, he was probably traveling the Mediterranean on some friend’s ginormous cruise boat, still untouchable, still using Dad’s money as if he’d earned it himself as he blazed a trail through a bevy of fashion models and starlets. Gabi shuddered, wondering if any of them had seen his dark side … if Dad was still paying new people for their silence.

  Gabi pictured her friend Nora, tears coursing down her face as she’d refused to talk to the police. Then she pictured herself packing her suitcase with shaking hands that same Christmas night, buying a bus ticket to Boston, and calling her mother hours later to let her know she was safe.


  And to let her know she would never be home again.

  She’d returned the checks her father had sent her, the ones that came with notes begging her to think about family, keep her mouth shut … make sure Nora did the same.

  Her reward had been a clean, swift cut. Our family’s not good enough for you? Then our money isn’t, either. And her trust fund had been reallocated to Garrett.

  She’d sat out the next semester at Wellesley, working two different part-time jobs and applying for scholarships, and when she’d finally entered the brick buildings again, under her own power, she’d done so with a clarity of purpose she hadn’t let go of since.

  Yes, she had a responsibility to open up opportunities for girls like Sam and Eve, but just as importantly, she couldn’t let Madison and Waverly—or any of the other girls at Briarwood—grow up thinking they were untouchable. She couldn’t turn them out into the world thinking there was a different set of laws created for those who could pay for protection. She couldn’t—she wouldn’t—let them ever get away with hurting someone again, whether it was intentional or not.

  Because if she didn’t do her job, she’d be allowing two more Garretts to wreak havoc on the world. And people like Sam and Eve would be victims like Nora.

  She turned on the flashlight and did a sweep of the clearing, but didn’t see any scary sets of eyes in the bushes, so she set off down the pathway toward Luke’s cabin. It was eleven o’clock—definitely too late to visit someone without notice—but Gabi couldn’t lie in that tent any longer without talking to him.

  As she crested the rise, she saw his log cabin nestled against the steep hillside, warm lights glowing from its windows. The cabin had a stone chimney gracing the right side, and a wide front porch with a swing and two Adirondack chairs. The door was open, and she could see Luke through the screen, moving about a little kitchen area in just his shorts.

  She swallowed hard, watching him even while she chided herself for doing so. How pathetic was it to be standing outside in the dark, ogling a man who didn’t know she was there?

  As she watched, he got two beers out of his fridge. Oh, no. He had company. Gabi was standing outside his cabin like a peeping Tom, and he was entertaining a woman.