“Well, you should have.” Zoe held up her hand. “I get it. I just wish you’d told me. I love this kind of stuff. This is Kardashian-level drama.” Wisely, she thought better of that. “Well almost.”
Maybe it was just the stress, but Mallory was touched, like chin-quivering, almost-about-to-cry touched. Zoe was going to forgive her even though she’d never been truthful with her friend. She gave her friend a hug. “Thanks, Zo.”
“No, we’re not hugging yet. Save that for tomorrow.”
They only had a few minutes left before someone needed to be checked into the Chipmunk Bunk for lights out. Kipper had kept an extra close eye on Mallory after all of the drama, so sneaking in wouldn’t be an option.
Really, she needed her sister to leave. She was just starting to have a really good time as Blake. But there was no way her sister would survive more than a day or two at Camp Pine Ridge. She’d get bored and take an Uber back home by the end of the weekend probably. In the meantime, they’d just have to take turns being Blake.
That presented her with a couple of immediate problems.
First of all, she needed to figure out where to put Blake and fast. They absolutely couldn’t tell anyone that a second Jones sister had just arrived, not if she wanted to keep being Blake with Ben. That left them with a not-so-good option of sharing Blake’s spot at camp and identity.
Which meant they needed a second bed. Obviously, they couldn’t both stay in G7A. She could probably sleep in the boys’ bunk, given the level of supervision, but that seemed shady. There had to be an extra bunk somewhere…that’s when it hit her. It was such a perfect solution. There was an extra staff cabin that sat empty way on the edge of camp. Maybe it wasn’t up to code or they didn’t have that many staff members. Either way, it solved her problem. There was an extra bed there.
Because they were short on time, Mallory gave Blake instructions: 1) follow Zoe back to G7A, and 2) avoid Ben, who was also camping at Pine Ridge. She implied that the director didn’t want them together.
Before leaving Mallory by herself, Zoe paused. “One question, Mal: Why not just tell Fozzie he has another camper?”
Blake flipped her hair and explained, like it was no big deal, that she was in violation of an agreement with the assistant DA and might go to jail if caught.
True enough, but for Mallory that was actually a distant number two. Number one was avoiding a conversation with Ben starting: “I’m sorry. I was pretending to be Blake because…”
With that, Mallory waved good-night and watched them walk toward the welcoming lights of the Chipmunk Bunk. The setting sun had turned the sky pink and purple, and the sound of gentle waves lapping against the canoes provided some comfort, but only a little. Left alone with her own thoughts, her worries seemed even bigger.
She didn’t want to tell Ben the truth. It would wreck everything they had, but who knows if Blake would actually stay away from him. Predicting her actions was generally a waste of time. She imagined spending a lot of time making sure the real Blake and Ben never hung out. It would be one of those Shakespeare plays that seemed funny, but ended in tragedy.
There was an obvious right answer—come clean to Ben as soon as possible—but it made her feel sick to her stomach just thinking of it. It was right up there with telling her dad she “borrowed” his car and rear-ended a cop. That had sucked. This, though, might be worse.
Where the Chipmunk Bunk was dark and quiet, the boys’ bunk looked like it was hosting an after-hours kegger. Curious, Mallory walked around the lake to B7A and peered in the door. All the lights were on. A few of the guys had passed out on their bunks still wearing their day clothes. The rest were definitely partying. A laptop was propped on a couple of crates, and they’d scooted a bed in front of it to use as a couch. The guys on the couch were hollering at a video game like it was talking back. Mallory snorted. Kipper was bouncing pennies off their beds in the morning to make sure the sheets were pulled tight enough, and the guys were basically living in a frat.
George saw her peering in at them. In sharp contrast to the drunken video gaming, he issued a polite invitation. “Come on in.” Before she knew what was happening, he’d handed her a red cup and sat her down on a junky couch in the back of the bunkhouse. Gesturing to the main action he said, “It’s some kind of video game, League of Legends. It’s Cabin B7A versus some bar in South Korea.”
“South Korea?”
George nodded. “Yeah, I guess it’s popular over there. Anyway, if the guys win tonight’s game, the Koreans are shipping a case of Hite Beer to the camp. If team South Korea wins, I don’t know what the guys are sending.” George snorted. “I think they promised one of the junior campers.”
“Do you guys sleep at all?”
“Well, Ben’s passed out.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t even disappointed. Just thinking about telling him the truth made her tense up into a ball of anxiety. When she took a sip of her drink, she cringed and almost spit it out. “What is this?” It burned her mouth and had the faintest pine flavor. She hoped it wasn’t pine-scented cleaner.
George shrugged. “Who knows? Derek brewed it in a plastic waste bin. He calls it Pine Ridge Special Reserve. Supposedly, he made it out of berries he picked last year. These guys have been drinking it for a couple of days, so it’s not poisonous or anything.”
Mallory snorted. Boys were so dumb. Dumb slash hung over actually. She wondered if Fozzie was on to Derek. “How come Ben and I have trail cleanup duty when Derek is getting a whole cabin full of underage kids drunk every night?”
“I don’t think anyone has gotten drunk. It’s pretty gross stuff.”
Mallory laughed. “I guess that’s lucky.” She accepted a bottle of Gatorade, sans moonshine, and pulled her hair up into a sloppy bun.
“You want me to show you where Ben’s bunk is? You can wake him up.”
Mallory nodded, and George led her through the chaos of the guys’ cabin—there were clothes, open bags of chips, and junk everywhere. She was glad to see that Ben’s bunk wasn’t the grossest.
When she sat on the bed, he barely opened his eyes and said, “Blake?” in a scratchy just-woke-up voice.
“I was just, uh…” She was so fixated on what she didn’t want to tell him, that she hadn’t thought of what to say.
He gave her a sleepy smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”
She blushed. Ben’s hair was mussed and there were sleep lines on his face. It was strangely intimate to see him sleeping.
“Also, I’m glad everything’s okay. You seemed weird earlier.”
She felt weird now actually, but she said, “What do you mean?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Nothing.”
With a deep breath, she asked, “Ben, do you want to go on the porch?” Maybe she could get up the courage to tell him. It’d be easier outside in the dark.
Some of the guys started hooting and hollering and sounding super mature (not). Mallory raised her eyebrows, and Ben said, “Settle down, boys. We’re just going outside.”
Ben took her hand and led her down the lakeshore. It was a perfect night. The heat of the day had burned off, there weren’t too many bugs, and the stars were shining on the lake’s surface, dancing light on the rippling water.
“It’s so Van Gogh,” said Mallory.
“So is cutting off your ear,” said Ben said dryly. “Hey, you weren’t dating Luke Culpepper, were you?”
“No.” At least she didn’t think her sister had been dating Luke. They’d been on again, off again for a while.
“Good. That might be awkward. We’re going to see him at the race tomorrow.”
Jesus. Could there be any more complications in her life tomorrow? She’d almost forgotten about the inter-camp games. Now she had Blake, Luke, Ben, and a sporting event in one day.
They stepped onto a stretch of sandy beach. When their sandals filled with grit, they both kicked off their shoes and walked along, leaving side-by-side footprints in the wet sand. B
en squeezed her hand. “I’ve never felt so comfortable with a girl before. We can really talk to each other. You’re the first person I’ve met in a long time who I feel like I can really trust.”
His words made her feel like crumpling. She opened her mouth to tell him the truth, but the words caught in her throat. She squeezed his hand back and tried not to hyperventilate.
There would be lots of time tomorrow to tell him.
He pulled her in and kissed her, a caramel-flavored kiss, not because he tasted like caramel—it was a sweet, burnt sugar kiss. For one minute, she pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind and savored the feeling of his lips on hers, his hands running through her hair.
Finally, she pulled away. The word “trust” lodged in her throat. There is no way she wanted to give up this boy. She would figure out how to make this work. With one more kiss, she said, “I’ll see you in the morning.” She needed some time to figure out a plan for tomorrow.
If she was going to make it through tomorrow, she needed to operate with the precision of a Swiss Watch. Why couldn’t Blake have shown up after the games? It would have been so much easier if it was a regular day at least. Mallory bit her lip. This was going to take some serious planning.
Late that night, half starry eyed from her walk with Ben, the taste of his kisses still fresh on her lips and half nervous about tomorrow, she let herself into the staff cabin. She pulled her inter-camp games schedule out. After some intense scrutiny, she concluded that it would be possible for both of them to do a few of the events and split duties, as long as they weren’t on the field at the same time. Fozzie would be thrilled that his star athlete was actually fast, Blake would be spared the torture of a boring day in the cabin, and Mallory would have more time to hang out with Ben.
Before breakfast, she’d catch up with Blake and Zoe to explain the plan. It would be a lot to manage, but she could do it.
Chapter Eighteen
The Inter-Camp Games
Ben
The thought of last night brought a smile to his lips. Those kisses by the lakeshore. He never would have expected Blake to be so sweet and shy, but she was. She got this funny little smile on her face and looked anywhere but at him before he kissed her. It actually seemed like she didn’t know how perfect she was—so beautiful, smart, and nice. He had it baaad. He was only thinking in yearbook speak—“You’re so pretty. Don’t ever change!” That’s all he had, but it was what he was actually thinking. Hopefully she hadn’t gotten in trouble sneaking back into the girls’ cabin. She didn’t need any more trouble.
Derek broke his daydream. “Yo, dudes!” he shouted. “It’s the inter-camp games today, guys, so, uh…I don’t know. Get ready.” Ben smiled in amusement. Kipper probably gave the women a half an hour lecture about rules and schedules. Inter-camp games—from the name, you’d think it would be more than two camps, but it was just Pine Ridge versus Pembroke, a.k.a. the rich kids. Like a fighter, he put on his hoodie and cranked up the volume on his earbuds. It was time to get his swagger on, usually not a big problem for him.
This year, Pine Ridge was hosting. Like the real Olympics, the camps rotated. He hadn’t been assigned to the setup crew, but he noticed that Blake had been. Because he couldn’t help himself, he wandered down to the field a few minutes early to say hi.
From across the field he saw Blake’s blonde head and made a beeline for her. Today, she wore diamond earrings and had knotted her Pine Ridge T-shirt at the waist. First time he’d seen her wear it like that. She was holding an armful of Hula-Hoops like she had no clue what to do with them.
“Hey you,” he said, trying to act all cool, instead of completely desperate for her company like he was.
“Ben?” She looked surprised to see him, sort of dazed.
“Did you skip caffeine this morning?” he said. “I’ll go grab some, if you want.”
Maybe she needed more sleep. They had been up way too late making out on the shore.
“No. I’m just lost. It seems so…I don’t know, what are we going to do with these things even?”
“Hula-Hooping, I guess.”
When Nelly walked up, Blake looked relieved and exclaimed, “Thank God! I had no clue what to do with these.” Had he missed something? Was Nelly the next shift?
Nelly flashed Ben a look. To Blake, she said, “Um, I was just going to ask if you wanted to go get breakfast with me, but…I guess I can take these.”
“Oh, thank you.” She handed over the Hula-Hoops like she was unloading an actual burden.
Blake apparently needed more than four hours of sleep a night.
Just when he was about to head to his own station, a dude in American flag running shorts and the most expensive running shoes money could buy sauntered their direction. His blond hair was nearly as pretty as Blake’s and even Ben had to admire his piercing baby blue eyes.
All casual, Blake said, “Hi, Luke.”
Luke’s gaze passed over Ben like he wasn’t even there and settled on Blake. He said, “Hey, Blake. I missed you.” His voice was suave, and he looked like he wouldn’t mind switching their relationship from off again to on again.
Ben tried to act like a mature human, but it was hard. He sidled up to Blake and slung his arm around her. He hadn’t seen Culpepper since the fight at the end of the school year. He had to admit, he was feeling pretty caveman about the whole thing, the race and Blake.
Blake stiffened.
Luke took in Ben’s “she’s mine” behavior and raised his eyebrows, almost like Ben had issued a challenge.
Blake slid out from under his arm and said, “Ew. Stop being so Animal Planet.”
At the Animal Planet comment, Luke started laughing. “Totally, babe.” He looked directly at Ben and said, “You ready to race?”
Boy was he ever.
Twenty minutes later, he and Luke were at the starting line. A bunch of campers were hanging out on the sidelines, including George and Blake. When Blake caught sight of him, she shaded her eyes and flashed a big smile, the kind of smile that was just for him.
They had a minute before starting so Ben walked over. “You sure look happier than a few minutes ago.”
“Really?” Blake shrugged noncommittally. “I guess it took me a while to wake up this morning.”
The race turned out to be nothing like Fozzie advertised. For one, it was comprised of three equally stupid legs (a potato sack race, a water balloon spoon thing, and a leg where everyone had to keep a rubber ball wedged between their knees while walking as fast as they could). Two, Ben and Culpepper were racing against a bunch of scrawny-looking kids (middle schoolers?). It didn’t matter, though. Ben wanted to win.
Captain America yelled over the top of some little girl’s head, “You’re going down, Iron Cloud!”
Ben shot back, “Over my dead body, pretty boy!”
The Pembroke director shushed them before yelling, “On your marks, get set, GO!”
And they were off. All of Ben’s pent-up-adrenaline and frustration jam-packed into one potato sack. He was flying. So was Culpepper, though. One preteen girl was surprisingly quick. It was the fastest fucking potato sack race in history. Things went downhill from there, though. Blake and George were yelling on the sidelines like it was the state final of whatever it was they were doing.
It all fell apart at the Hula-Hoop. Ben’s dropped a bunch of times, and the only thing keeping him ahead was Culpepper’s shitty performance in the spoon race. Finally, he brought it home, waddling across the finish line with a ball wedged between his knees, Culpepper yelling, “You suck!” at his victorious backside.
Ben crossed the finish line, spiked the ball he’d had wedged between his legs, and let loose a primal whoop. “I won, bitch!” He might not be richer, prettier, whiter, or smarter, but he was faster at the potato sack race, which is when he saw her. The skinny girl in pigtails had beat them both.
He looked at Culpepper and said, “Did we just get beat by a little girl?”
Geor
ge slapped him on the back. “Tough break, Ben.” With a glance at the winner, he said, “I wonder if she knows that a girlfriend was the prize to this race?”
With some solid post-game analysis, Blake said, “It was the Hula-Hooping. You guys didn’t have the right hip action.” Blake looked like she couldn’t care less that he had made a fool of himself racing a bunch of kids or that he didn’t beat Luke Culpepper, who she didn’t appear to even notice. She was more worried about getting some food. “Want a hamburger? Cook Betsy fired up the grill already. I saw a couple campers with double cheeseburgers.”
Maybe he didn’t need to be the fastest, richest guy around for Blake.
He didn’t see Blake again until the last event of the day, the two-man canoe race. The rest of the day, they had both been too busy. Every now and then, he’d catch a glimpse of Blake carrying water bottles or running across the field. As expected, she smoked the competition in the actual track events.
When he asked how it went, she looked a little shy about it. “Oh, it was nothing.”
“No asthma today?”
“I just took a puff off my inhaler.”
With a big yawn, he said, “I can’t wait till this is over. I’m ready to crash.” It had been a good day, but a long one.
Blake sighed. “You wouldn’t believe it, but Fozzie signed me up for cleanup, too. You might have to do all the rowing. I’m too tired.”
He smiled. “Good. A guy likes to feel useful.”
At the shore, Fozzie explained the race. The goal was to paddle out to a floating dock in the middle of the lake and back to shore. Five or six canoes were beached on the shore waiting for the race to start.
The Pembroke canoe team was comprised of Luke and another Captain America look-alike. Ben looked even more Native American than he normally did next to their pale Swedish flesh. Blake, on the other hand, looked gorgeous, especially in her junky camp shirt and a smile. It was so good to see her happy. He couldn’t imagine the girl he knew from school wearing a ratty T-shirt and a sloppy ponytail. It was crazy how little he’d actually known about her last year. She didn’t even seem like the same person she had this morning.
Breaking the Rules of Revenge Page 14