“You don’t know!” she cut him off, pushing closer, almost getting in his face.
“No, I mean—” He didn’t get a chance to explain.
“I thought we were starting to get along a little better,” she said.
He felt like a jerk, like the biggest idiot in the world. “We were. I tried to get it out of your shower caddy yesterday. I was done pranking you, but—”
“But what? You thought you just needed to be an asshole?”
She wasn’t even listening. Not that he could blame her.
“Well, after last year—”
“What, I deserved this?”
“No, but—”
“Did you know that Fozzie has a photographer coming tomorrow? It’s basically picture day! What am I supposed to do?”
The thought of perfect Blake with a toothy green smile in a glossy camp brochure hit him hard. He blurted out a laugh before he could think better of it. It was as much of a stress relief laugh as anything.
Blake’s mouth dropped open in horror, her face contorted in rage, and she was on him. She started pummeling his chest, pretty hard for someone who looked so hot in a red dress. There was no way he was ever going to hit a girl so he held his hands up in the air and took it.
Zoe yelled, “Blake, stop it! You’re gonna get in trouble.”
Blake screamed, “I’m so mad at you!” and moved to slap his face. Ben stumbled backward into the sound system. The music went dead, and she fell on top of him. When he looked up, Fozzie was staring right at him.
“In my office. Both of you. Now.”
Blake stood up and smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress. She looked like she’d just been in a catfight. Her dress was all wonky and her hair all messed up. She took a few breaths without looking at him, apparently trying to get ahold of her emotions. Ben just stayed where he was and let her compose herself. He knew when to keep his distance. When she moved to follow Fozzie, he fell into step next to her. On the way to the office, Ben said, “I really am sorry.”
Blake glared.
“I promise the dye will fade. I read it online.”
With a heaping dose of sarcasm, she said, “And no one ever lies on the internet.”
She had a point.
Fozzie motioned for them to sit in the chairs across from his desk. Blake demurely sat down and stared at her knees. Ben noticed that her red dress hiked up even higher when she sat.
While he flipped through their files, he let them stew. Finally, he gestured to Blake’s teeth, “Mr. Iron Cloud, did you do this?”
“Yes, sir.”
Fozzie looked very tired and sighed deeply. “This is not the first time we’ve had a pair of feuding campers, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. You two, though, are being highly disruptive to the rest of the camp. This is not the experience kids come to Pine Ridge for. They come here for good, clean, wholesome fun. S’mores, hikes, comradery. Not mean-spirited pranking.”
He turned to Blake, “I am this close to calling your father, young lady, and having him pick you up. This close.” He held his thumb and forefinger about a millimeter apart to emphasize. “But—”
Ben heard Blake breathe a sigh of relief at the word “But.”
“But I am inclined toward leniency. I misjudged you yesterday, Blake. Mr. Iron Cloud is guilty as heck, too. In short, it seems you’ve both been equally giant pains in my ass since your arrival. Excuse my language.” Fozzie paused for another moment, seemingly to think of an adequate punishment. “You two need to work out your differences. By yourselves.” He shook his head vehemently. “I have no interest in holding your hands and talking you through some high school he-said-she-said conversation. I don’t care what kind of shenanigans y’all have been up to. I just want peace and quiet.”
They both nodded contritely. It was obvious to anyone they were getting off easy. Ben knew this could be so much worse. So far, Fozzie hadn’t called any parents. When it came to punishment, Fozzie Bear had nothing on his mother.
After staring out the window thoughtfully for a moment, he announced, “I’m assigning you two to trail cleanup. There’s a network of trails around camp, and they are in need of repairs. There’re fallen logs that need to be cut and picked up. Some spots might be washed out. Mostly, someone needs to clean up all the damn candy wrappers.”
He looked at them fiercely. “Every day for the foreseeable future, you two are going to report to duty at my office directly after breakfast. By the end of summer, I want every single cigarette butt and Snickers bar wrapper cleaned up off of my trails.”
Ben tried not to look as relieved as he felt.
“Now, off with you. I don’t want to see either of you until tomorrow morning at eight thirty.” Looking at Blake, he said, “Make sure you wear some shoes you can walk in.”
The two of them shuffled out of his office wordlessly. He tried to apologize one more time and she held up her hand, obviously too tired and frustrated to hear anything he had to say. He knew enough to let her be.
As far as Fozzie’s punishment went—spending every day alone with Blake for the foreseeable future—that was going to be painful, at least after today’s stunt. He prayed the green faded by tomorrow. If it didn’t, she might shove him over a cliff.
Chapter Thirteen
Walkie-Talkie Interruptus
Mallory
When Mallory got back to the bunk, all she wanted to do was lie on her bed and cry into her pillow like she was a little kid. She was feeling mad, defeated, and despondent all at once. Some of the other campers were waiting nearby anxiously. “Mallory! Are you okay? Did you get in trouble?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I’m in trouble, but it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” She didn’t feel fine, but she knew she would be tomorrow.
Nelly sighed tragically and said, “I feel like this is my fault.” Nelly had confessed to being Ben’s accomplice through some middle-of-the-night tears, right after Mallory had tried to make her feel better about an unrequited crush on, of all people, Ben Iron Cloud. “I would have done anything for him!” she explained. “It wasn’t about you. I mean, it was a little, but you’re really nice so I feel bad.” It was weird, but whatever. Essentially, Nelly had sworn loyalty to Team Blake like she and Ben were a divorced celebrity couple.
“It’s not your fault, Nelly. Ben is the one who did this.”
“Maybe we should pray.”
“Really?” Mallory said, feeling unconvinced.
“Why not? My parents pray for everything.”
Together four of the girls sat on Mallory’s bunk and prayed to God that her teeth would turn white by morning. Zoe threw in a request that Dane fall for her. Instead of yelling about curfew, Kipper joined in and seconded Mallory’s request, probably because she didn’t want to have to solve the problem herself. Mallory’s heart swelled with all the support of her camp friends. Some things might be going wrong, but the people at camp were really sweet, even Nelly.
The next morning, the practical side of Mallory figured the green had faded because her teeth weren’t as porous as she’d feared and/or Ben had used cheap dye, but the bigger part of her figured it was probably God answering her prayers. After the initial flood of excitement and squealing, she wanted to run around the camp giving thanks for white teeth. Then she had an even better idea…
“Nelly, do you still have that green dye around anywhere?”
After a quick breakfast, Mallory laced up her hiking boots and walked to Fozzie’s office with an extra spring in her step. It was a hot and sunny day. She wound her hair up in a messy bun and kicked out her legs to work on her tan while she waited for Ben and Fozzie. When Ben arrived, she flashed a big green smile and his face fell.
With a shake of his head, he said, “I can’t believe they’re still green. I’m really sorry.”
Mallory tried to look dejected.
“I’m so sorry,” Ben said. “I don’t know what I can do.”
Inside, Mallory smiled. “My dad called a cosmet
ic dentist. It’s going to cost thousands to remove the dye. I guess it damaged the enamel of my teeth, maybe permanently.” She looked down at her shoes and took a shaky breath. “It might require surgery.”
Ben’s jaw dropped.
“My dad is sending a helicopter to pick me up later. The dentist said the longer the dye stays on my teeth, the less likely he’ll be able to repair the damage.” Mallory gave him her best girl-from-a-John Green-book look—sad yet brave.
Ben’s eyes grew huge and his jaw went slack. He looked legitimately horrified.
Good. He deserves every bit of guilt he feels.
Fozzie’s entrance interrupted Mallory’s horror story. When he turned to look at them, she flashed another green smile. He replied with a “Jesus H. Christ” and blew out a breath. “Pardon my language, but seriously. You can’t get it off yet?”
Mallory always wondered what the “H” stood for. If she were five, she would interrupt and ask, but she wasn’t, so she stood quietly while Fozzie gave them a backpack with a map, a compass, a walkie-talkie (in case of emergency), and some snacks. “Start working on the South Paw Trail. Pick up all the litter. Move debris out of the trail, anything that might trip up a hiker or a mountain biker—big rocks and logs need to go. If there’s a downed tree that needs to be cut up, make a note of it and I’ll go back later.”
“Is anyone going with us?” She assumed a counselor would come or maybe Fozzie.
“Nope. You’re on your own. I’ll give you a merit badge at the end of the term if you survive.”
She glanced at Ben. “You ready?”
He nodded, but he still hadn’t recovered from the shock of finding out she needed emergency surgery. Listlessly, he stood to his full height and followed her to the trail. He hefted all of the tools and the pack onto his back. It was clear that she would have her own personal slave until he realized she’d dyed her own teeth green. That morning she’d freshened up the color by dripping a little in her toothpaste. Because she hadn’t spent all night soaking her teeth in dye, the color probably wouldn’t last much longer than a blue tongue from a raspberry Blow Pop.
“Ben, can you clip this on your belt loop? I’m feeling nervous about surgery.” He clipped it without comment, as if carrying her water could make up for everything he’d put her through. She wasn’t going to roll over and forgive him. Ben had been pranking her since the moment she arrived. It was her turn to get even.
The South Paw Trail cut through a heavily forested part of the mountain. The mountainside was covered in old-growth leafy trees and moss-covered rocks. The occasional ribbon of silver stream burbled down the slope toward the lake. It was the hilliest trail around the camp probably. Pretty, but hilly. Ben was an athlete-and-a-half, so it didn’t seem to bother him, but Mallory wasn’t used to exercise. The hot sun, the hills, and the cleanup were slowing her down to a snail’s pace.
Three hours into the hike, she asked him to pass the water bottle. When he did, the biggest look of relief dawned on his face. “The color’s almost gone.”
She chugged some water. “Oh good.”
The look of excitement faded and he narrowed his gaze skeptically. “Aren’t you happy? No surgery.” As he said “surgery,” it must have dawned on him that her story had been a little over-the-top. His jaw dropped. “You faker! You totally had me going.”
She curtsied. “I wish the green had lasted longer. You deserved way more than a few hours of anxiety.”
He was still reeling from relief and shock, but there was a note of admiration in his reaction. He gave her an appreciative look and shook his head. “Damn. You had me going.”
The way he reacted almost made it sound like she’d turned the whole thing into a game. Well, maybe it was a little, but still. She had suffered way more than him. She half punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t think we’re good now. That was the meanest prank ever. I can’t believe you did that!”
He scoffed. “Oh, I don’t think it was ‘the meanest prank ever.’ You’ve done your share of nasty things.”
Mallory hopped back up onto her high horse. “Nothing this bad. That was the Worst Thing Ever.”
The worst part of it had been that she’d started to trust him. “I thought we were starting to come to some sort of understanding.” With a frown, she said, “Yesterday, you sat on my bunk and we talked about…nothing that important, but still, we talked about things that mattered to me.” Picking up steam, she said, “And you called a truce! You said no more pranks. That’s got to be a Geneva Convention violation.”
He nodded. “I know I screwed up. I was trying to find that tooth whitening kit and throw it away when I came to your bunk.” Looking down the mountain, like he was reaching for a profound and faraway truth, he said, “I knew I could trust you after I pranked you so many times and you were still nice. I mean, you helped me untangle my decorative weaving project.”
Mallory gave him a look. “That’s not really how relationships work. You can’t just torture someone in order to test their loyalty. You build trust over…” She trailed off as she realized she was asking him to trust her even as she was pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
For a while they walked in silence. She carried the trash bag, and they filled it with some junk. “What’s with all the Airheads wrappers?” she asked. “Do people like those?”
Ben smiled. “Must be the little kids. My sister is in love with those things.”
When they came to a log in the trail, Ben assessed it. “You want to help me lift this off the trail?”
“No. Let’s tell Fozzie to come clear it with the chainsaw. It’s too big.”
Ben kicked it and then tried to lift it on his own. Mallory didn’t want any of his macho bullshit. “Fine, you do that. I’m going to go ahead and scour the trail for cigarette butts.” She wasn’t ready to be done being mad at him. Sure, he had apologized, but none of his “I’m sorrys” were real apologies. He didn’t make her feel it. A real apology would melt the ice around her heart in the space of a heartbeat. At least if there was any truth to what she read in her romance books.
While she wandered up the picturesque trail alone, bagging the occasional water bottle or candy wrapper, the sun dipped behind a cloud. It wasn’t long before a light spritz of rain began to mist her. After the hot sun and exercise it was refreshing, but instead of staying light, the raindrops got heavier and started coming faster. She looked behind her for Ben. It was raining harder.
She didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes into the rainstorm he came jogging up the trail calling for her. When he saw her, he stopped to wipe the water from his forehead with the bottom of his shirt, revealing his abs. For just a second, she stared—Ben looked way more amazing than the guy on the cover of The Accidental Duchess. The Regency period was great for stories, but knee breeches? Mallory preferred a guy in a black tank top and normal pants—all the better to show off his toned arms. The duke had nothing on Ben.
When she saw the look on his face, she realized she was putting on a show of her own. Her own shirt had gone totally see-through. Of course! She pulled it away from her, but the minute she let go it glued itself back to her skin. She might as well have been wearing nothing but a bra.
“You want to head back or should we find shelter somewhere?” He looked around, scanning the area, something she hadn’t thought to do yet.
“Head back, I guess. It’s not that bad.”
So of course the rain then turned to hail. And the lightning started. The storm was going biblical on them. The adrenaline shot through her veins as she imagined every lightning strike horror story she’d ever heard. Without asking, Ben grabbed her hand and they started running in search of somewhere to wait out the storm. As they raced through the woods, she clutched his hand for safety. Even though he’d been a total jerk, she trusted him with her safety. The silly feud he had with her sister was nothing but that—a silly feud. Outside of the weird world of Ben and Blake, Ben seemed pretty okay.
The
hail was bouncing off the ground like popcorn. So far it was pea sized, but it seemed to be getting bigger. As another lightning bolt hit somewhere too close for comfort, they found a cave. As far as caves went, it was pretty safe looking. Its mouth was large, almost welcoming by cave standards, and the floor looked reasonably clean.
Ben looked at her and said, “Let me check first.”
She ignored him and followed right behind. It was hailing too hard to wait outside. “The bear can eat us together,” she yelled over the noise of the storm.
Inside, they both got the lay of the land. It was the size of a small bedroom. There was a little fire pit close to the entrance and some old beer bottles and wrappers tossed in the ash. Mallory smiled. “I don’t think we’re the first campers to find this spot.”
Ben nodded. “We found it just in time.” Outside, the hail was going steady. The stones looked like they’d grown from grapes to ping pong balls. Like a normal guy, Ben started messing around with the fire pit immediately. There was still some wood. He dug around in their bag for useful stuff.
He pulled out The Accidental Duchess.
Her eyes grew wide. “You’re not going to burn that are you?”
He said, “No,” in in the same tone he might have used if she had asked him to burn the title to his car, like the idea was completely preposterous. He dug around some more. “Our choices for kindling are the map or the camp rule book.” Ben smirked. “Fozzie must have added that one.”
“I think the answer is clear,” she said dryly.
In unspoken agreement, he started to rip apart the rule book. He tucked the pages around the wood in the fire pit.
“Did you bring matches?” she asked.
“No, but we’ll figure something out.”
Apparently, he was some kind of crazy survivalist. “Good. I am freezing.”
With the barest hint of a smile, he said, “I can tell.”
Her cheeks flamed and she crossed her arms over her chest when she realized he wasn’t talking about her goose bumps. Of all days to wear a bra with no padding.
Breaking the Rules of Revenge Page 10