Текст книги "Unlikely Allies "

Автор книги: Tiffany King

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter 5

The next morning I wasn't as confident.

“What am I even doing here?” I mumbled, knowing the campers were due to descend on the camp anytime. “I know nothing about kids, and it’s obvious I’m a terrible example,” I added, freaking out about the responsibility that I would be handed in mere minutes.

“Kim, don’t be ridiculous, you’ll be a natural. Look at how much everyone already likes you here. It usually takes years to earn their respect,” Amy said, tidying up the cabin.

“Girl, you’re crazy. Even without Mason pointing out my flaws, I know I’m a mess.”

“Mason’s just being a complete douche, but everyone else admires your never-give-up attitude. You’ve got freaking nerves of steel, because believe me, I would have knocked his teeth down his throat by now,” Amy said, taking a big swing at the air.

“Ugh, don’t think I haven’t been tempted. I wanted to get along with him for Rick’s sake, but I’m seriously wishing a pack of wolves would drag him off.”

“We could dip a cot in honey and drag it out to the woods with him tied to it and see if you’d luck out with bears showing up,” Amy said loyally.

“Gruesome. You may like horror movies more than you think. Hey, are you sure I can handle this,” I asked, switching gears as I heard the bus pulling in on the gravel road outside.

“I’m positive,” she said, giving me a quick hug of reassurance. “For the most part, they just want love. Sure, you’ll have the occasional kid with a chip the size of Canada on their shoulders, but we'll figure it out. You’ll be fine,” she added, seeing my panic.

I squared my shoulders after standing up and followed Amy as she headed for the door. It was too late to turn back now. We stepped out into what I had now liked to call the deceptive sunshine because it was never as warm as it looked outside. It looked like an endless stream of kids tumbling off the bus. The noise level was deafening as the campers all tried talking over each other.

Rick stood on the bottom step of the bus with a megaphone in hand. “All right, campers,” he bellowed into the megaphone, getting their attention. “Girls, age ten to twelve, you’re with Amy and Kimberly, my daughter, in cabin Raven,” he said, pointing to where Amy and I were standing in the doorway. “Girls, thirteen to fifteen, you’re with Liz and Courtney in cabin Sparrow,” he said, pointing to the cabin next door. “Boys, ten to twelve, you’re with Travis and Ryan in cabin Blue Jay, and boys thirteen to fifteen, you’re in cabin Eagle with Mason and John. Gather your belongings and head to your cabins. We’ll meet back out here at ten for orientation.”

Amy and I stepped to the side as our group of campers approached the cabin. The majority of them were first years, so they squealed over the thought of sleeping in bunk beds. There were a couple squabbles over who would get the top bunk, but Amy quickly diffused the situation by letting the eldest pick first. Soon the banging of the wardrobes filled the cabin as belongings were unpacked and stored in their temporary homes.

I followed Amy’s lead and assisted the girls in sorting through their stuff. I noticed Amy was taking an inventory of who had what, listing missing appropriate attire onto a sheet of paper.

“I’m going to go to the supply room and get some of this stuff,” she said, holding up the list once everything was unpacked.

“You’re leaving me alone?”

“They’re fine,” she said, indicating the girls who were already clustered into groups. “They basically entertain themselves. We just make sure no one gets hurt and no fights erupt.”

“Okay,” I said, folding my legs up under me on my bed. “If you come back and I’m tied up or something, you’ll know I lost control,” I mumbled as she headed for the door.

I could hear her laughing even after she walked out the door.

Sweeping my eyes around the room, I was relieved that Amy’s words proved to be true. Everyone seemed happy enough, chatting and exchanging stories about their current homes. It was a little heartbreaking, listening to their game to see who had been placed in the most foster homes. I may have been missing a father figure my entire life, but my mom had always provided the most stable home possible. It was sad to know that so many kids weren’t afforded the same luxury.

One of the campers I noticed was sitting alone on her bunk, not talking to anyone else. I jumped off my bed and walked over to introduce myself. “Hey, I’m Kim,” I said, holding out my hand.

She looked at my hand disdainfully, like it was a snake.

Ignoring the snub, I sat on the bed next to her. “Is this your first year here?” I asked, thinking she just felt out of place.

“You think I’m ten?” she asked disgustedly.

“Uh, well no. I just…Well, I just thought since you weren’t chatting with anyone you must be new and might need help fitting in.”

“Really, so if I’m not acting like a total ditz like them, I must need you to swoop in to save me?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“No, I just figured you might need a little help…” I said, letting my voice trail off before I made matters worse. I looked at the door wistfully, wishing Amy would hurry up.

“Don’t worry about the poor orphan, okay? I’ve been taking care of myself for years,” she said, dragging a book out of her battered bag. She looked at me pointedly.

I climbed off her bunk, getting the hint. With one last sarcastic look, she flopped on her side, facing the wall with her book in hand.

Real smooth, Kim, I thought as I headed back to my bed.

The other girls seemed oblivious to the loner as they became more vocal. The noise level in the cabin swelled as they tried to outdo each other’s stories. I fought the urge to cover my ears or try my old fifth-grade teacher's method and declare it quiet time. The beginning of a headache began to pound in my temples.

“Shut it!” Amy hollered, stepping into the cabin.

Silence enveloped the cabin like a blanket.

“You know my rules. We can all have fun chatting, gossiping and talking about boys, but when your voices hit screaming decibels, what does it mean?” she said, dropping the bags she had carried so she could put her hands on her hips.

“Majorly grumpy counselors,” one of the girls piped in, giggling.

“That’s right, and do we like majorly grumpy counselors?” she asked, finally cracking a smile.

“NO,” they all chorused, laughing at the same time.

“What’s the matter?” Amy asked, plopping on the bed as she took in my stressed look.

“Um, nothing, if putting my foot in my mouth is what we're supposed to do,” I said, indicating the sullen figure lying on her bunk and facing the wall.

“Oh, that's Alyssa. I should've warned you about her,” Amy whispered. “This is her third summer coming here. She’s what we call a “hard-knock camper.” She just can’t seem to catch a break. I think she’s been placed a handful of times in the last few years. Her father is a deadbeat fricker, but the judge in her town just doesn’t get it. Her dad will clean up his act, petition the court for custody and then proceed to drink himself into a stupor weeks after he gets her. She’s been bounced around more than a ping pong ball. She’s tough around the edges, but underneath, you can tell she just wants what everyone else wants, to be loved. I came close to getting under her tough shell last year, but it was just as camp was ending,” Amy whispered, sounding frustrated.

“Well, I’ll leave her to your capable hands. I’ve already alienated myself with her,” I said sighing as I stood up to help one of the girls put her bag on top of the wardrobe.

“Thanks,” she said shyly, looking at me like she still had something to say.

“Did you need anything else?” I asked as she nervously twirled one of her long locks of blonde hair around her finger.

“Um, I uh, was just wondering, is it true Rick’s really your dad?” she stuttered out.

“Yep, he is,” I answered, noticing the noise in the cabin had evaporated.

“Lucky,” she said, looking at me with wide blue eyes.

“Why haven’t you been here before?” one of the older girls asked, looking doubtful.

I looked around at the eleven pairs of eyes that were now focused on me like I was ready to disclose the location of Katy Perry’s house. I debated sidestepping their question, but instead, answered honestly. “I didn’t find out about him until last Thursday,” I said.

“What? Your mom never told you who your father was?” the same skeptical girl from before asked. “What a ho-bag,” she added.

“She had her reasons,” I said, feeling the need to defend my mom since she wasn’t able to.

“No excuse is a legit one,” the girl said, sinking onto one of the bunk beds with her arms crossed.

“True, no excuse is acceptable,” I said, agreeing with her.

“But how cool is it that Rick is your father?” one of the other girls squealed, like Rick was a movie star or something.

I laughed. “He seems like a cool guy,” I said as the girls started chattering about how awesome it would be for a parental figure to come out and claim them.

I turned back to my bed to help Amy sort through the clothes and my eyes skirted over to the bunk in the corner. I saw Alyssa had flipped over in her bed and was studying me critically. I smiled at her to show I cared and she answered by flipping me off before flopping back over.

Amy giggled. “That’s Alyssa for you,” she said when I grimaced. “Parker, come get your stack of clothes,” she added.

“Any hoodies?" the girl who had asked me about Rick asked, looking hopefully through the large stack. “Sweet,” she said, pulling one from the bottom of the stack. “And it’s pink too. Thanks, Amy,” she said, throwing her arms around Amy.

I looked at Amy smiling.

“Yeah, that’s Parker," she said, seeing my questioning look. "She was found abandoned in a park when she was a baby. Someone at the state thought it would be cute to call her Parker. She’s what we call a ‘lifer.’ She’s been in the system for ten years. Her foster mom is a ‘user,'” she added.

“Like drugs?” I asked, appalled she’d been left with a druggie.

“That would be better because at least the state would move her. No, her foster mom uses the foster care system. She takes in as many foster kids as the state allows and then refuses to spend any of the money the state pays her on the kids, which is why Parker shows up each summer without any adequate clothes.”

“How come she never got adopted if she was a baby when she was abandoned?” I asked, feeling my heart clench as I studied the petite blonde-haired beauty laughing with her friends. How was it possible no one wanted her?

“She was a drug baby,” Amy said, assembling the next stack of clothes.

“So?” I said, not getting why that would matter. I knew enough from the nutrition class I took in high school that taking drugs during pregnancy could affect the fetus, but that shouldn’t have prevented a loving family from adopting her.

“She was born with bad kidneys and urinary tract system. She needed a kidney transplant when she was three. Being in and out of hospitals half her life doesn’t bode well for adoption,” Amy said with malice in her voice.

“That’s awful,” I said, fighting sudden tears. What the hell was wrong with people?

“Yeah, sometimes you get a raw deal,” Amy said in a lackluster voice that made me wonder again what her story was.

“Oh shitz, I forgot the socks. Do you mind running over to the mess hall and grabbing four or five packages?” she asked in a more normal tone as she continued to sort through the clothes.

“Sure. Are they in the supply closet next to the kitchen or the one by Rick’s office?” I asked, heading for the door.

“By the office. Everything's labeled so you shouldn’t have any problems. Louise runs it with an iron fist.”

“Sounds good,” I said, heading for the door.

I followed the short path toward the mess hall, listening to the multiple voices ringing out around the camp. There was an exceptionally loud ruckus coming from around the building as I neared the back entrance. Peering around the corner, I was taken aback by the sight before my eyes. I shouldn't have been surprised to see Mason once again with his shirt off, he was just that type. The "I'm hot and I know it" kind of guy. The beach is filled with them. What surprised me though was the easy rapport he seemed to have with the half a dozen teenagers he was playing basketball with. I watched him give pointers to both sides as they battled three on three. By the hero worship in most of their eyes, it was glaringly obvious that he was well liked. I guess I'm the only lucky one that gets to deal with his douche bag attitude.

Lucky me, I couldn't help thinking. For some reason, the thought bothered me more than necessary. "They get the nice guy and I get the asshole," I mumbled to myself.

"What, sweetums?" Louise asked, heading out the door with her arms filled with linens.

"Oh, nothing. I was just contemplating the irony of my current situation."

"Situation?" she asked, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

"Just stupid stuff," I answered, feeling dumb for even saying anything. It was one of my character flaws that I let words randomly come out of my mouth. My mom had teased me about it for years, saying I needed some kind of sensor on my lips. I was just one of those people who could never hide what I was feeling. What you see is basically what you get. I wasn't a fan of confrontations, but I was always the first to stick up for the underdog in almost any situation. Mom liked to call me her 'open book,' and even gave me a cute charm for my sixteenth birthday that was a sterling silver book that was open.

"Mmm, I'm sure those problems start with an M and end with an N," she said, clicking her tongue. "Don't you worry yourself about him honey. Your father is over the high-flying moon that you're here. Mason just wants to make sure your dad doesn't get hurt. Those two have a bond like peanut butter and chocolate. It's always been that way. Mason came here our first year open, a sullen kid, pissed at the world that he had wound up in foster care. Your father took him under his wing and showed him he may have been dealt a man-sized bad deal, but he could man up and rise above it. By the time summer ended, there was no separating those two. You just give him time, he'll realize soon enough you're not here to hurt your dad," she said, shifting her load one last time before sauntering off.

Her words didn't have the reassuring effect on me that I know she was aiming for. Instead, I was hurt and jealous over the supposed bond my father shared with some belligerent guy who wasn't even blood related. I knew any outsider looking in would think I was a total bitch for feeling this way, and maybe I was, or maybe if Mason was halfway decent, I'd be more willing to accept it, but he was such a dick.

Sick of him once again dominating my thoughts, I moved on, opening the appropriate bin in the stockroom and pulling out five packages of white socks. There weren't any grocery bags around that I could find, so I stacked the slippery packages into my arms as best as I could, using my chin to try to keep them in place. As I headed back out into the hallway and through the dining hall, I was so intent on keeping the stack of socks from falling that I missed the obstacle coming through the door.

"Oof," I gasped, dropping the packages to the floor.

"Watch it, beach bunny," Mason said, bracing my upper arms with his hands to steady me before I could fall over.

"You watch it," I lashed back, trying to regain my footing. Why was it any time I was fumbling around like an idiot, he always managed to be around to see it. It was like I sent out some kind of incompetent radar signal or something. My traitorous heart betrayed me again, racing from our close proximity. I hated him. He ridiculed me, made me feel small, and yet, all I seemed to be able to do was think about how good he smelled. It should be against the law to be so freaking handsome and smell good at the same time. God could have at least cursed him with gross BO just to keep that ego in check.

His hands burned through the light long-sleeved shirt I was wearing. Glancing down, I was surprised he was still touching me. I looked back up at him, confused when his hands tightened their hold on my arms. His eyes were unreadable as he stared intently into mine.

"What?" I asked, confused about the feelings he was evoking inside me. My body seemed to have a mind of its own as I swayed closer to him.

His eyes darkened and moved to my lips that were inches from his own. My heart raced. Though it was completely crazy and utterly ridiculous, I wanted him to kiss me more than I had ever wanted to be kissed before. Our eyes met again and I felt drunk, trying to interpret what was happening.

"Nothing," he finally answered, abruptly letting go of me.

I stumbled into the doorframe, not realizing he had been practically holding me up. He looked like he was about to reach back out to help me, but thought better of it and stuffed his hands into his low slung jeans instead.

"Aren't you afraid you'll break a nail lifting those heavy packages?" he mocked, breaking the spell I had been under like a cold bucket of water being dropped on my head.

"Not as afraid as I am that those steroids you're on are shrinking that already small brain you’re sporting—among other things," I said saucily, trying to hide my hurt as I headed back out the door.

"Care to check, princess?" he chuckled behind me.

As much as I wanted to turn around and kick him where he had just invited me, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that I’m sure my flushed red face would provide.

"Aw, if only I hadn’t left my magnifying glass back in the cabin, so I’m going to have to say no," I answered cheekily, hurrying down the path before he could counter.

"What took so long?" Amy asked as she opened the door to let me in.

"One guess, and here's a hint, it starts with 'D' and ends with 'head.'" I said, tossing the packages of socks onto the bed. "I seriously don't know what his deal is," I added, slumping down on my bed.

"You need a hint?" she teased.

"You're wrong." Amy was convinced that he had the hots for me and was just acting like some schoolboy with a crush.

"Oh yeah, that would be so hard to believe because you’re not gorgeous or anything,” she teased. “I guarantee he’s thinking the same thing you are."

“And what am I thinking?” I asked.

“Uh, that you wanna jump his bones.”

"Please," I sputtered. "He's sooo not my type," I lied.

"So, you expect me to believe that broad-shouldered, blond-haired, blued-eyed Greek Adonis replicas aren't your type? Right, I believe you—NOT."

"I'm serious..." I started to continue until I realized our conversation was being greedily eaten up by the preteen campers in the cabin. "Oh great," I muttered as they all giggled. Amy burst out laughing.

"Not funny," I said, hitting her head with the pillow I clutched in my hand. How mortifying would it be for Mason to hear that I had the hots for him?

"Don't worry, Kimbe," Amy said, calling me by the newly-coined nickname she made up for me.

"Right, why should I worry, now that ten impressionable girls, who are all about swoonworthy stuff, think I have the hots for my half/step/foster whatever the hell he is, brother?" I hissed.

Amy laughed as I continued to fume. I debated hitting her with the pillow again, but knew it wouldn't have the effect I was aiming for.

Maybe she sensed how close I was to the edge because she raised her hands. "I'm serious, Kimbe, it's all good," she said, turning to the girls whose noise level had increased as they mooned over my supposed love life. "Girls, tell Kimbe what the rules of the cabin are."

A petite girl with sparkling brown eyes and mousy brown hair stepped forward, still giggling. "This is the circle of trust," she said in a high-pitched voice as she swept her arms out to indicate the other girls.

"Circle of trust, huh?" I questioned.

"Yeah, what happens in Raven, stays in Raven," Parker piped in, giggling again.

That’s a relief. The last thing I needed was for Mason to have one more thing he could hold over my head. He was arrogant enough as it was. If he thought I actually liked him, he'd be unbearable. Luckily, I hate him, I thought to myself. Sure you do, a small voice at the back of my head taunted me.