Camp Boyfriend

by Rock, J. K.

  CAMP BOYFRIEND

  J.K. Rock

  Copyright © 2013 by Joanne Rock and Karen Rock

  Sale of the paperback edition of this book without its cover is unauthorized.

  Spencer Hill Contemporary, an imprint of Spencer Hill Press

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Contact: Spencer Hill Press, PO Box 247, Contoocook, NH 03229, USA

  Please visit our website at www.spencerhillcontemporary.com

  First Edition: July 2013.

  J.K Rock

  Camp Boyfriend: a novel / by J.K. Rock – 1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary:

  Teen girl gets caught between her old self and her reinvented self, and two boys, one in each world.

  The authors acknowledge the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this fiction: Advanced Placement, Bambi, Batman, BMW, Breathalyzer, Bugles, Calvin Klein Obsession, Cheetos, Comic-Con, Diet Coke, Dungeons and Dragons, Elmo, Energizer Bunny, Eveready, ex-lax, Facebook, Field of Dreams, Frisbee, Gatorade, Geological Society of America, Gollum, GQ magazine, Gucci, Harry Potter, Hayden Planetarium, Hershey, IMAX, iPhone, Jell-O, Juicy Couture, Keds, Lamborghini, Light Saber, Lord of the Rings, Magic Marker, Mario Kart, Mercedes-Benz, Motel 6, National Geographic Channel, Olympics, Ouija board, Pepé le Pew, Pepto-Bismol, Peter Pan, Poison Ivy, Polo, Popstar! Magazine, Pringles, PSATs, Seventeen magazine, Silly String, Skunk-Off, Survivor, Swatch, Tabasco, Thriller, TiVo, Twitter, U-Haul, Wizard of Oz.

  Cover design by Jennifer Rush

  Interior layout and chapter artwork by Marie Romero

  ISBN 978-1-939392-50-3 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-939392-51-0 (e-book)

  Printed in the United States of America

  To the wonderful students that we’ve worked with past and present, thank you for inspiring us with your lives and stories. We hope we’ve done them justice!

  Munchies’ Manor: Voted most likely to…

  Emily (Counselor): (be cast in a remake of any ‘80s film)

  Lauren: (pilot a mission to Mars—take that Kirk!)

  Alex: (break the world record for biggest bubblegum bubble)

  Trinity: (predict the apocalypse)

  Piper: (live in a Sequoia tree to save it from lumberjacks)

  Siobhan: (win a Nobel Peace Prize by using chess strategies to bring peace to the Middle East)

  Jackie: (turn down a modeling career to compete in the Olympics)

  Divas’ Den: Voted most likely to…

  Victoria (Counselor): (fall asleep on a train and wake up in another country)

  Hannah: (marry wealthy, divorce rich, repeat…)

  Brittany: (marry a vampire—if she can find one that’s not afraid of her)

  Rachel: (make the US Volleyball Team, then OD on too much RedBull)

  Madison: (appear on the side of a milk carton)

  Kayla: (kiss the boys and make them cry… on Wall Street)

  The Wander Inn: Voted most likely to…

  Bruce “Bam-Bam” (Counselor): (win an award for best pyrotechnics in a James Bond movie)

  Seth: (discover a plant that solves our energy crisis)

  Julian: (write sequels to the Lord of the Rings trilogy)

  Vijay: (own the most exclusive Manhattan club, close it in a week, open another, repeat…)

  Danny: (live at home until he’s forty, and then marry his babysitter)

  Garrett: (write an ‘I Survived Camp’ blog followed by millions)

  Warriors’ Warden: Voted most likely to…

  Rob “The Hottie” (Counselor): (be a stunt double for Zac Efron)

  Matt: (win a Heisman Trophy)

  Eli: (host a ripoff show– Punk U)

  Devon: (be the next “Bachelor” and get turned down on the Final Rose show)

  Jake: (own a chain of fitness centers)

  Buster: (become a WWA star, wrestling name: BUST-A-MOVE)

  HONORABLE MENTION: Lake Juniper Point Director: Mr. Woodrow (“Gollum”): Most likely to have his whistle surgically removed from his stomach.

  Chapter One

  Ten, nine, eight…

  At Jefferson Davis High School, we drummed our fingers on our desks and half-rose from our seats, counting down the last seconds to summer vacation. I held my breath and eyed the wall clock. Would I go through with tonight’s plans to sabotage my so-called perfect life?

  Seven, six, five…

  Today, everyone was actually psyched to be here. From slacker to brainiac, we listened to the ticking and waited for our break to officially begin. If only my life was on TiVo—then I could fast-forward to the fun.

  Four, three, two…

  Even the teachers were excited. Music had vibrated through their lounge door all day, their laughter so loud our red-faced principal looked ready to give them detention. You’d think they’d survived the zombie apocalypse when we’d barely survived their burial mounds of homework. But we forgave each other—all sins forgotten—when the school year ended…all except the one I was about to commit.

  One!

  You couldn’t hear the bell ring for the collective cheer. Fists pumped the air. Notebooks sailed into the trash. Sneakers beat a path to the door out of Mrs. Kazinski’s health class. Goodbye to a semester’s torturous viewing of human sexuality films—most of which weren’t half as enlightening as the girls I sat with at lunch.

  Kids screamed, shouted, and high-fived without penalties from the absent hall monitors. If only I could celebrate with them. The end of school began my indentured servitude to my older sister while she planned her Texas-sized wedding. And that was just the start of my summer problems.

  “Hey, Lauren.” My boyfriend, three-sport standout Matt Butler, grabbed my hand as soon as I hit the corridor of sophomore lockers. “Ready to ditch this place for a couple months?”

  He gave me a lazy stare that could turn most of the female student body into babbling idiots. Even our principal, sixty-something-year-old Ms. Collins, must have had heart palpitations around Matt, considering the way she smiled at him and let him get away with anything. She was too old to be a cougar, so we’d dubbed her a saber-tooth tiger.

  But Matt’s green eyes, dark hair, and retro sideburns were undeniably hot. And the fact that he was all abs and square shoulders didn’t hurt either.

  “In a minute,” I stalled, trying hard to smile despite the dread balling up in my stomach. “I’ve got to clean out my locker.” My solar system magnets came off easily, but I had to abandon my ‘Save Pluto’ sticker. Hopefully whoever had my locker next year would appreciate it.

  “Look out! Coming through!” One of Matt’s football friends—a huge lineman they called Crash—barreled down the hall on a skateboard. He knocked over freshmen like bowling pins, propelled on two sides by a couple of running backs who lived in the weight room.

  Matt pounded knuckles with the oversized musclehead while I grabbed a NASA sweatshirt and stuffed it in my bag.

  “Matt and Lauren,” Crash shouted, winking at me while he held out his arms like a surfer to ride the waves of discarded folders and test papers. “You’ll be at the beach tonight, right?”

  My gut knotted even more, and for once I wished it was only PMS. Actually, maybe it was the flu. That would make an awesome excuse to miss the party at Turtle Creek later, but it would only delay what had to be done.

  “We’ll be there,” Matt called, loud enough for his friend to hear ev
en though Crash was halfway to the other end of the hall by now.

  Matt, meanwhile, had never taken his eyes off me.

  “Won’t we, babe?” He ran the back of his knuckles along my cheek, a sweet gesture that made me second-guess my plan for tonight.

  Oh God.

  My stomach cramps increased in velocity, knocking into one another like molecules in collision theory. I distracted myself by watching Crash and his buddies. They made no effort to avoid a couple of students carrying the hovercraft that had taken top honors at the school’s science fair.

  “Whoa!” Crash shouted as he plowed into it, making me wince. All of that hard work and ingenuity—gone in seconds.

  Matt turned at my expression and surveyed the damage. Grinning, he shot his football buddies a thumbs-up sign, oblivious to the feelings of the kids who’d poured their hearts into this piece. They must have been crushed. Witnessing Matt’s reaction while our valedictorian fought back tears erased any doubts I had about tonight. Call me crazy, but I was breaking up with the hottest guy in our school.

  “I’ll be at the beach,” I told him, backing away. I didn’t care who saw me rush toward the destroyed hovercraft to help. I had a soft spot for the school nerds.

  After all, I used to be one.

  “See you at seven-thirty?” Matt called through the hysterically laughing crowd.

  “Sounds great.” My gritted teeth flashed in a bright smile. It was an expression I’d perfected during my transformation from geek to popular girl this year after moving half-way across the country to a new school. Amazing what losing my glasses and braces and joining the cheerleading squad had accomplished. Sometimes I felt like a science experiment gone wrong, like a broken hovercraft lying in pieces on the school floor.

  “I need to talk to you.” He smiled in a way that had heads turning toward me from every direction.

  Matt attracted attention. At one time, that kind of flirty look would have sent me running to fill ten pages in my diary. But I’d seen through Matt’s gorgeous exterior. Laughing with his friends when they mocked or pranked other kids made him as guilty as if he’d done it himself. I’d been too dazzled by his attention to notice at first. Now it bugged me and I couldn’t wait to get some space. Hopefully our “talk” wouldn’t be about something serious. How awful if, after months without the “L” word, he said it tonight. I definitely needed to tell him my news first.

  Summer camp started next week and I couldn’t return to the Smoky Mountains while I remained Matt’s girlfriend. I had other plans for my eight weeks at Camp Juniper Point. I missed my old friends and our goofy fun, like staying up to watch predawn meteor showers or casting Harry Potter spells with wands we made out of twigs.

  “Same here,” I muttered as I helped pick up the pieces of a project I wished I’d done myself.

  I was over being popular, and I was done with being Matt’s girlfriend. I’d decided as much last night when I’d gotten an email from Seth Reines.

  My camp boyfriend.

  * * *

  I slipped inside my house and eased the mammoth door shut, the central air conditioning raising goose bumps on my arms. One of many things I resented about my new Texas hometown was that you could sweat one minute and freeze the next. Speaking of icy things, my mom and sister were quarreling in the living room to my right. Again.

  “But Momma, this bride’s wearing semi-gloss lipstick. Look,” Kellianne drawled—the only one of us who’d acquired a southern accent besides our Texan mother. As for Dad, he’d barely said a word since being laid off from his geology professorship at Cornell University and taking a job at Mom’s family’s oil company. Meanwhile, I stubbornly refused to call anyone “darlin’” and held on to my upstate New York accent. It was the only relic of the old me to survive the move. Well, that and my telescope.

  “Semi-gloss is inappropriate for church. Do you want to look like a lady or a roadhouse tramp?” Appearances mattered to Mom, especially in front of her Dallas socialite friends. It was part of the reason she’d made me over when we’d moved. If Dad hadn’t been so preoccupied, he would have put a stop to the eyebrow waxing and hair highlights, insisting, as he used to, that I was fine just the way I was. And I’d believed him until he disappeared into his work the way stars vanished under Houston’s bright glare.

  “Maybe I won’t walk down the aisle at all.” Kellianne’s voice sounded teary.

  “Oh hush now. Every bride gets the jitters. And at two hundred and fifty dollars a plate we can’t afford them. Why do you think your father’s working so hard? Here’s a tissue.”

  I set down my school bag, stepped out of my Keds, and slid across the foyer’s marble floor toward our curved oak staircase.

  Hershey, our chocolate lab, lounged at the top of the landing, her square head resting between her paws. Her ears pricked up as I tiptoed upward. I put my finger to my lips and shook my head, hoping she’d understand my plea for silence. No way was I getting dragged into another round of endless debates about seating charts, floral arrangements, music choices, picture locations, cake flavors, entree options…the list grew longer by the day. It didn’t matter that Kellianne had a wedding planner. Mom said the day should have the Carlson family “stamp” on it, and that meant we all played a part.

  But I had my own problems to deal with, ones a little more important than deciding if Kellianne looked better in ecru or eggshell. Like there was a difference. Besides, everything looked good on my blonde bombshell sister, something she’d loved flaunting in my plain Jane face until I’d started wearing makeup and upgraded to a C cup bra.

  Hershey’s tail thumped as I avoided the squeaky left side of the tenth stair. Please, please Hershey, I begged silently, knowing she’d demand a belly rub before letting me pass. She rolled over, round stomach and tongue protruding. She really was cute. Annoying. But cute. I smoothed her short fur and tickled her under the chin. Three more steps and I’d be in my room and home free.

  “Woof!”

  I whirled and frowned at her wriggling body. Her backside lifted while her front legs pressed to the floor. Great. She was ready to play while I needed to escape Wedding Alcatraz.

  “Hush.” I grabbed her favorite play toy, Turtle, and threw it down the stairs. She barked and bounded after it, skidding like Bambi when she hit the polished floor.

  “Lauren, honey, is that you?”

  I shut my eyes. So close to a clean getaway.

  “Lauren!” Kellianne shouted. “Come look at this lipstick and tell me what you think.”

  Frantic for an excuse, I blurted, “I’ve got to finish my NASA Aerospace Scholars application.”

  “It’s not due until September. Besides you can’t send it in until your father gets Congressman Owens’ letter of recommendation,” Mom yelled. My hand gripped the banister. Would Dad remember that promise? It seemed about as low on his list of priorities as I was.

  “Hurry, this is more important,” Mom added.

  Lip color was more important than studying with some of the world’s top scientists? Hershey mimicked my snort. Maybe in Mom and Kellianne’s world. But not in mine. Of course, what I wanted didn’t seem to matter. My life was in orbit around everyone else’s. I could be in a coma and they’d be at my hospital bed with color swatches.

  I’d hoped to curl up in bed with a good book, distract myself from doubts about tonight’s social suicide plan. Just the thought made my heart skitter along my ribs like a trapped spider. Now I’d have to endure an afternoon discussing lace versus tulle, roses versus calla lilies, and chicken versus fish. At least beef was a given. In Texas, a wedding without steak wasn’t even legal.

  Resigned, I slumped back down. Next week I’d be at camp, away from Bridezilla’s clutches. My chest loosened, letting me draw my first easy breath of the day. I could practically smell the Smoky Mountain evergreens and Seth’s outdoorsy scent. This week would go by in a snap if I could stay focused on that.

  I hurried into the kitchen to see if Dad had dr
opped off the reference letter—he hadn’t—and grabbed a glass of sweet tea to console myself. Hopefully he’d give it to me before I left for camp. Getting the application in early meant I had a better chance of making it into the competitive online and weekend program.

  In the living room, my mother and sister sat on the couch, their blonde heads bent over a magazine.

  “Use a coaster, Lauren,” Mom ordered without looking up from a shot of a pouting bride, her peach lips shining. “And not a good one—get the crocheted ones Aunt Flo gave us for Christmas.”

  “Do we really have to invite her, Momma?” Kellianne twisted her ring. “Remember how she was at the engagement party—reading auras and talking about crystal powers. What if she brings her Tarot cards and predicts my marriage won’t last?”

  “Is that her guess or yours?” My smile faded when Kellianne covered her face. Crap. Sometimes my sister seemed as armored as a rhino and other times as thin-skinned as the tissue she held to her nose. I leaned over and gave her a quick hug. “Hey. I’m kidding. You and Andrew are great. I’ll ask her to read my future. It’ll keep her off your back, okay?”

  My sister nodded as I plopped in a deep-cushioned chair and gulped my lemon-flavored tea. My nose curled at the smell of clashing perfumes wafting from the bridal magazine. Even bug spray would be better. Kellianne’s glistening blue eyes flew to mine.

  “She’ll probably warn you that you won’t keep Matt looking like that.” She shook her head at the broken-in jeans and rumpled Batman tee I’d rescued months ago from a ‘To Donate’ bag of my old clothes. Today had seemed like the perfect day to resurrect my former look. “Don’t you want to be at Matt’s side when he joins his daddy’s business?” Kellianne pressed her acrylic nails into her temples. “They own the biggest car dealership in town, and while that’s not in the same class as Andrew’s business, it’s still decent.”

  Kellianne’s fiancé was Andrew Jackson Buford III, heir to the state’s biggest cattle ranch and as close to Texan royalty as we got. They’d met at Texas A&M University, where she’d earned her Environmental Science degree and an engagement ring. My sister was actually no slouch in the brains department, and it still surprised me that she’d agreed to give up her dream job when they’d set the wedding date.