I shrug and swallow acid at the same time. “No idea.”
“So, Esme”—she sits straighter—“tell me more about you. What’s the plan after college?”
“I’d love to be a journalist. I love the hustle and going out on the hunt for stories.”
Her light eyes watch me carefully. “But you seem too honest to do that.”
I laugh and hope it sounds normal. “I want to write facts. There are still some news outlets that do that.” And probably four times as many that don’t.
“You might be the first.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You don’t like journalists?”
Rebekah turns away, her eyes settling back on the middle of the lake. “I don’t like lies.”
“What’s your plan, then?”
She blows out a breath. “I wanted to swim in college.”
“Not anymore?”
Shaking her head, she replies, “No. Now I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“What made you change your mind?”
She hesitates. “I didn’t get a scholarship. I like where I’ll be going, but there’s no chance for swimming. I’m going to take all the classes I can and see what I like.”
“That’s cool. You can go wherever your heart takes you.”
“Do you have siblings?” she asks. “I only have a brother.”
“I’m an only child, but Kayla feels more like a sister than a friend.”
“Well, you’re not missing much.”
“Don’t you get along with your brother?”
“We’d do anything for each other, but he’s twenty-eight, so we don’t have a lot in common.”
“I always wanted a protective older brother.”
Rebekah scoffs. “Trust me, you don’t. Hey, do you think Tia is going to make us sneak out tomorrow?”
“She can’t make you do anything, but I think we’re going next week. We need a couple of nights to figure out what happens after lights-out, make sure no one sees us breaking out.”
“By that you mean when Andy goes to bed.”
Nodding, I say, “Precisely.”
“Do you even know where we’re going?”
“Apparently there’s an arcade and bowling alley on the edge of town. Tia looked it up. So we’re basically sneaking out to be thirteen again.”
With a soft giggle, Rebekah stands. “Andy is up.”
I follow her gaze over my shoulder. Andy walks from the staff cabin where he has a room next to the food hall.
His step falters as he spots us. “Rebekah, Esme, what are you doing out here?”
I stand and head toward him. Rebekah follows, staying a step behind me. “Neither of us could sleep. Do you need us to do anything?”
He nods. “I could use some help setting up for breakfast,” he says as he lets us into the hall.
That’s in two hours. This summer could pass very slowly if I keep getting up before the sun. Though I like the peace first thing. The lake is quiet, like it’s sleeping.
The key is returned to his pocket. Not around his neck, then.
I wonder where he keeps it at night. In his shorts?
I’d love to be able to get in a late-night snack, but the thought of going through his shorts is nasty. They’re a little shorter and tighter than they need to be. Ew.
Rebekah and I begin to bring tubs of cereal into the dining hall. There will be pastries too, but we don’t need to get those out until closer to eight.
Andy hums as he works and pushes one hand through his red hair.
“I was impressed with how you both performed yesterday. You made your groups feel welcome. Were there any issues last night? Homesickness?”
“Nothing,” Rebekah replies.
“I’ve never seen anyone fall asleep so fast,” I say.
He laughs. “The first night is always like that. I assure you it won’t be the same tonight.”
“When Kayla and I were campers, we never fell asleep before lights-out. We’d whisper for hours,” I say. It seemed like midnight back then, but in reality we were probably all asleep before ten p.m.
Rebekah adds, “The same with my camp.”
Andy shakes his head. “It’s been a long time since I was a camper.”
“You came here?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes, probably before you two were even born.”
“How old are you?” I ask.
Rebekah’s eyes go round as if I’ve just asked Andy to strip.
“What?” I mouth at her.
“Almost thirty,” he replies, not taking his eyes off the notice board where he’s pinning up camp expectations.
See, he didn’t care. He knows how old we are anyway.
“The boys snore.”
Rebekah, Andy and I all startle at Olly’s voice.
He walks into the hall, rubbing his eyes. “Is there coffee?”
Andy laughs. “Not yet. I’ve opened the hall so you can make some. I moved the coffee maker into the kitchen now that the campers are here.”
Olly frowns like that was a dumb idea.
“We don’t want a bunch of seven- to ten-year-olds caffeinated to their eyeballs,” I tell him. And I don’t want to share with even more people.
Andy nods. “The coffee is for the staff.”
I’ll never get used to that being me.
“Please hurry,” I tell Olly. “I’m dying for coffee.”
“Well, if your life depends on it…,” he says, smirking at me as he walks past. His eyes are playful, and I turn away before I blush brighter than the bottles of ketchup on each table.
Rebekah’s gaze moves between me and Olly. When I look up, she turns around as if embarrassed to be caught looking.
6
You know what sucks?
Volleyball in thirty-thousand-degree heat.
All right, I don’t know the exact temperature, but thirty thousand feels pretty damn accurate.
The campers still don’t seem to care. They all have water and hats and are young enough for extreme heat to take a backseat to fun. I can’t remember being like that, but I must have because I definitely didn’t complain about the weather when I was here as a kid.