Taming Chloe Summers (Grover Beach Team #7)

by Anna Katmore

  Forced to do it myself, I turn around, grip the handle of my suitcase with both hands, and hoist it up the stairs backwards, one step at a time. Damn, but this thing is hard to move. Maybe the entire vanity case was a bit too much. On the other hand, what’s a girl without her makeup, huh? As I pull on it harder, my hand slips away from the handle, and I feel a sting in the tip of my right pointer finger. A broken nail, freaking great! And I had them done only two days ago.

  A volley of curses escapes me, but it doesn’t make dragging my stuff any easier. Finally on the roofed porch, sweat beads on my forehead, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand.

  The door to the cabin stands open, and three untouched bunk beds, two single beds, a small desk, and two big wardrobes are all there is to this huge, square room. Everything is made of the same cappuccino-brown wood, giving me the impression of moving into a real squirrel den. The boards creak under my steps. Last time I was at this camp, I lived in the Tiger cabin for five weeks. Though the furniture was exactly the same back then, it appears much more comfortable in my memory.

  A bright pink rolling suitcase stands at the foot of a bed by the window, so that’s probably the one cheery Number Two has chosen for the stay. I claim the only other single bed and sag, exhausted, into the plain chair by the desk.

  None of the beds have sheets on them. One point on the checklist I received in the mail a couple days ago said to bring my own sheets. I’m not going to lie down anywhere in here before the sheets are on. The mattresses look old and faded, but at least they smell fresh. They must have been thoroughly cleaned before camp started.

  Unpacking can wait until after dinner. Justin kept us quite a while in the sickroom, and by now my stomach is rolling with hunger. I retrieve my Sprite from my purse, but the drink is warm and disgustingly sweet. Screwing the top back on the bottle, I toss it into the trash can by the door and dig into my bag once again, trying to find the damn emery board I always have with me for emergencies like this.

  I run it over the rough edges of my ruined nail as I walk out onto the porch again. In front of the opposite hut, Julie is still struggling for attention, trying to part the group of girls into two. Oh boy, who gave this poor excuse for an authority figure the job of counselor? Snickering, I keep tending to my nail until it’s again shiny, if irritatingly short. I put the emery board away and shoot a quick text to Brin while I’m still alone, telling her about the annoying twist of having Justin at camp. Her immediate “WTF” reply gives me a feeling of being understood by at least one person in the world. But I can’t text her all day, and hanging out in the cabin alone for the rest of the afternoon doesn’t sound very appealing. With my limited options, even Julie’s company holds a vague hint of attraction—weird as that seems.

  Of course, when I go and check out the situation, she’s still fighting the battle of her life. Shaking my head, I roll my eyes and march through the unruly crowd at her feet. Taking up position next to her, I clear my throat once, then put two fingers in my mouth and whistle so loud that a bunch of birds takes off from the tree beside the hut. Immediately, all the girls turn shocked faces to me.

  “Thanks for your attention, everyone. My name’s Chloe Summers, and I’ll be taking over the Tigers,” I say with a saccharin smile. Then I nod at Number Two. “This Owl here is Julie. If you want to be in her group, pick up your stuff and move into the Owl den. The rest, come with me.”

  I trudge down the stairs and walk the path between the girls. Their big eyes are fixed on me, but otherwise they don’t move an inch. Turning around, I bark, “Now!”

  With an instant hustle, all of them grab their duffle bags and suitcases, and while half of the crowd is fleeing toward Julie, the rest of them obediently follow me to the Tiger hut.

  There you go. That’s how you command a bunch of annoying kids.

  Chapter 3

  Justin

  I bang my forehead on the bathroom door. Chloe Summers. Of all the girls from high school, Chloe Summers has to be one of the counselors.

  “Justin? Are you all right?” Greyson’s voice drifts through the gap under the door.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I turn the knob and walk back into the room that he and I are going to share for the next five weeks. “Sure.”

  “Oh. Okay.” With a puzzled look on his face, he points a thumb over his shoulder as I walk past him. “It just sounded like you were falling against the door in there or something.”

  Yeah, that was me trying to hammer a girl out of my head who has no right to be in there in the first place.

  “I tripped,” I say curtly and finish putting my clothes and other stuff into one side of the only wardrobe in this cabin. Fair enough, it’s big, but how eight boys are supposed to fit their belongings into it escapes me.

  Luckily, Greyson and I occupy this cabin alone. From the looks of it, he didn’t bring much. Me neither. Some clothes, stuff for the bathroom, hiking boots, and an extra pair of sneakers. Most of the stuff unpacked, the only things left in my suitcase are sheets. I sit down on the mattress and do my best to shove the pillow into a blue-patterned cover. Greyson is done putting the cover on his quilt. Man, it looked so easy when he did it.

  “So, what do you think about the girls?”

  “Hm?” I look up from the fight with my pillow to where my roomie now lounges on his bed.

  “Chloe and Julie,” he explains, starting to suck on the third licorice since we returned from dinner. He keeps pulling them out of his backpack like it’s some kind of stupid magic hat. “What’s your first impression?”

  “Julie seems cute.” I fasten the last button on the pillowcase then start up another fight with the bed linen. “I like how she’s wholeheartedly throwing herself into this camp adventure. She’ll make a good counselor.”

  “Yep. And she’s pretty, too,” Greyson muses out loud.

  I’m not sure if he’s aware of the sigh that just escaped him, but I cast him a smirk. “You like her?”

  “She’s funny.” He bites off a chunk of the red stuff and speaks around it with a grin. “When she told those jokes during dinner, I nearly pissed my pants.”

  Even I chuckle again at the memory of how the girl with the black braids almost made me choke on my burger at the counselor table in the dining hall.

  “And Chloe,” Grey continues. “She’s really hot stuff. Do you know if she’s taken?”

  Uh-oh. “Girls like Chloe never are,” I warn him, my brows tipping together. “You’d be smart not to get involved with her.”

  “Really? Why’s that? I thought you were friends. Sort of.”

  “Long story.” I roll my eyes and eventually conquer the quilt in the fight I’ve been battling for the past few minutes. “To keep it short, in high school, she was kind of a spoiled brat who didn’t care about anybody or anything but herself.”

  “And you think she hasn’t changed since then?”

  I give his licorice a pointed look. “I wouldn’t bet your candy on it.” Then again, who knows? Chloe Summers might have changed after all. She could have a boyfriend now. Maybe she’s lost the nickname of man-eater, become courteous, and started treating people with respect. Or…she’s still the same little bitch who once slept her way through the soccer team. The basketball team. And half the senior class as well. She always walked away, never looking back. Not once.

  “I don’t know.” Greyson shoves the rest of his candy all the way into his mouth and chews noisily. “She made a nice impression during dinner.”

  “Because she was silent all through dinner,” I counter. “If she doesn’t open her mouth, nothing bad can spill out.” It’s really that simple. And if she’s not drawing attention to herself around Grey, it can only mean he’s not her type. Probably not athletic enough for her to chase.

  And she wouldn’t—not in a billion years—make a move on me, that’s for sure.

  “Perhaps you’re judging her too harshly. After all, it’s been a year since you last saw her.”

&nbs
p; Annoyed at the twerp’s defense of Chloe, I fluff up my pillow in irritation before speaking. “And your point is?”

  “Many things can happen in a year. She might be nicer now and surprise you.”

  I shrug it off. “Well, we’ve got five weeks to find out, right?”

  Greyson gets up from the bed and rummages in his backpack until he pulls out a yellow pack of M&Ms. Ripping it open, he pours a few in his palm and tosses them in his mouth, offering me the open pack.

  “Seriously?” I laugh but reach inside and grab a couple anyway. “You got some candy addiction here or what?”

  “Smoking withdrawal.”

  “Ah. How long have you been on detox?”

  He casts a glance at his watch. “Seven hours and thirty-two minutes.”

  “Dude, that’s tough.” I shake my head and pop the M&Ms in my mouth, a yellow one first.

  “It’s hell!” he whines. “I need a distraction.” Then his face brightens a notch. “Know what? How about we call the girls over for a late-night soda in the dining hall?”

  I arch a caustic brow at him. “You mean call as in use the tree phone?”

  My sarcasm rolls off him. “Oh, right. Maybe we shouldn’t have locked away everyone’s phones after all.”

  “Too late for regrets, pal.” I pull my hoodie on over my white T-shirt and open the door. “Come on. Let’s go over and ask them to come.”

  Grey slips out the door but stops on the porch and turns back to me. “What do we do with the boys? Can we leave them alone?”

  I’m not worried about any of the kids stepping out of line on the first evening. They’re all supposed to be busy moving in. Deciding not to take a risk, however, I hop over the banister instead of taking the stairs and head for the Wolf cabin.

  As I pull the door open, a stink wave hits me straight in the face. “Whoa.” Grimacing, I stumble backward and fan myself. What is it with boys farting all the time when no girls are around? The collar of my hoodie draped over my nose, I forge through the jumble of rowdies jesting and hollering as they store their things away in the cupboards and drawers, and open the window in the opposite wall. Leaning far out, I suck in a deep breath of fresh, night air then turn around.

  When none of them seem to have even noticed my entry, I clap my hands twice and shout, “Guys!” The room falls quiet, and I finally make my speech. “At dinner, you heard about the duties every group will have here at camp. Greyson and I came up with a little competition that will allow the winners to dump two days’ worth of their kitchen duties on the losing team.”

  That earns me a round of cheers from the kids.

  While unpacking my stuff earlier, I came across tons of board games and puzzles in our wardrobe. Every cabin has its own selection of games, so I stride to the cupboard across the room and retrieve two one-thousand-piece puzzles from the top shelf. One of the boxes I hand to the guy lounging on the top bunk to my right, who was making the entire room laugh at his jokes a moment ago. If I remember it right, his name’s Brian. His chaotic hair is stiff with gel, and the collar of his denim jacket is pulled upright. He seems to have group-leader potential. Better he put that to good use than lazing around.

  “The team that finishes their puzzle first,” I say, my gaze on him, “wins.”

  Instantly, Brian slides down from the bunk bed and starts to set up the puzzle on the floor. “Get your lazy bones down here,” he commands his friends, proving me right. All the boys drop whatever they’ve been doing and surround him on the floor.

  Greyson takes the second puzzle box and carries it into the Raccoon cabin, laying out the rules to his own group.

  When he comes back, he smacks me on the shoulder. “Brilliant idea.”

  “Kids need an occupation. Give them something to do, and none of them will come up with shit.” I zip my hoodie and tuck my hands into the pockets as I start off toward the lake. “Let’s go visit the girls now.”

  Chapter 4

  Chloe

  “Jesus! The light of a freaking candle would be better than this bulb,” I snarl through gritted teeth. The damn thing has been flickering from the moment we switched it on after we returned from the dining hall. Unfortunately, we don’t have candles in the cabin, and it’s too late at night to unpack and put things away without any light.

  “Maybe there’s something wrong with the cables?” Julie suggests and briefly turns off the light for what feels like the hundredth time in the past half hour. When she switches it back on, we have about two minutes of continuous, flawless light, but then the flickering starts again.

  She puts her things into the wardrobe next to the door, so I claim the one on the opposite side. The moment I open my suitcase on the floor, shirts and skirts spill over the sides as if shot out by coiled springs. An additional bag might have been helpful, but this morning I refused to carry two cases when I could press everything into one. Quickly, I change from my white jeans and black blouse into cutoffs and a purple camisole. The heat in this cabin resembles a sauna.

  “Wow!” Julie’s eyes grow round and wide, and when she giggles, it sounds like a baby duck. “It looks like you’re moving in for five months instead of five weeks.”

  “I only packed the essentials.”

  She comes to kneel by my side, lifts a pair of my strappy sandals in one hand and my dark-blue pumps in the other, and smiles. “Right.”

  I snatch my shoes from her and put them with the rest of my footwear at the bottom of the wardrobe. The blue ones are my favorites. I couldn’t leave them behind. In fact, I barely have enough shoes for the two weeks I intend to stay. But based on the meager belongings Julie brought, she wouldn’t understand that. How one can live a whole summer on a few T-shirts, a handful of shorts, and two pairs of sneakers is beyond me, especially with no washing machine around. Numbers Two, Three, and Four might be okay with washing their things in the stream nearby Neanderthal-style. I, however, prefer to have a fresh set of clothes on me every new day.

  Gathering my toiletries in both arms, I carry the load into the bathroom and arrange them on the vanity shelf there. Brushes, lotions, perfumes, and my toothbrush line the shelf above the sink. My shampoo and conditioner, together with my orchid-scented soap, get hauled into the shower cubical.

  “So, are you calling dibs on Justin?” Julie’s voice drifts through the open door.

  Stepping out of the shower stall, I find a place for the hair dryer and straightener in the cupboard beneath the sink, then call out, “No. Why would I?”

  She appears in the doorway, hands linked behind her back, wearing a grin as bright and annoying as the flaring light bulb. “Dunno. Just thought maybe because you’re friends?”

  From my hunkering position in front of the sink, I send her a pointed stare. “We’re not friends. In fact, we barely know each other.” I close the cupboard, forcing the long cable of the hair dryer inside. “And no, I’m not calling dibs on anyone here. Neither of the guys are my type, and the rest of the male population in this camp is like half a lifetime too young for me.”

  “You’re funny.” Even though it wasn’t meant as a joke, the Owl laughs and flies back into the other room. “Actually, I quite like both of them. Justin seems to know what he’s doing, which, personally, I find extremely sexy. And he’s easy on the eyes, too. Greyson, on the other hand, has the sweetest laugh, don’t you think? I love when he chuckles.”

  I follow her out of the bathroom. “Is that why you kept telling jokes at dinner?”

  She casts me a sheepish look. “The truth is I was a little flustered today. Laughing helps me relax.”

  Obviously. Contrary to the nervous wreck she was in the afternoon when she was fighting for the kids’ attention, she’s been totally at ease ever since we returned from dinner. She gives the impression that nothing whatsoever can rattle her owl cage anymore.

  Taking out my plain, purple-satin sheets, I start making my bed. Julie is already done with hers. It looks like a cotton cloud blotched with hundreds of
tiny flowers. Who did she steal that ridiculous bedding from? Her grandmother?

  Deciding against a comment on her choice of linen, I ask, “Can I borrow a shelf in your wardrobe?” and helplessly hold up my vanity case. “Mine’s already full, and the bathroom isn’t that big.”

  “Sure. You can also have the drawer. You certainly need it more than me.” She comes forward, takes the case out of my hands and, standing on her tiptoes, puts it on the empty top shelf.

  Great! I’ll put my manicure set and nail polish in the drawer. They’re actually the last things in my suitcase, and just as I take them out, there’s a knock on the door.

  I cast Number Two a skeptical glance. We saw the girls to their cabins not an hour ago. They can’t already need something again. At my look, Julie shrugs and hurries to open the door.

  “Good evening,” I hear Numbers Three and Four say before I actually see them. Julie steps aside, holding the door open for them as they walk inside. “Hi,” both of them greet me.

  Justin tucks his hands in his jeans pockets, stepping closer as he sweeps our room with a brief glance, then he smiles at me. It’s not friendly but amused, and I have no idea why.

  “What’s up?” I demand, clutching the pouch with my nail polish harder to my chest. Sharing fifty thousand square feet of woodland with him for a couple of weeks is something I can handle. Having him inside my bedroom is crossing the line.

  “Nothing much,” he replies, ignoring my snappiness with a casual shrug. “We’re heading for a soda in the dining hall and thought we’d ask you girls to come.”

  “Oh, that sounds nice. We’d love to,” Julie answers, not even thinking about checking with me first.

  I throw her a razor-sharp look. “You go and have fun. I’ll stay here and finish unpacking.” An hour or two alone in the cabin is just what I need, anyway. Brinna is probably dying to get a text or call to hear all the deets about my first day at camp.