Текст книги "Unlikely Allies "

Автор книги: Tiffany King

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter 7

The next two weeks ran much smoother once I set up a routine. For the boys, I stuck to working with clay since they seemed to like molding. With the older girls, I showed them how to roll the clay into marble-sized balls to make the beaded bracelets that adorned my wrists. The first day was spent forming the beads and hollowing them out with skewer sticks. By the third day, the clay was dry enough for them to start painting the beads the colors they liked. They were a quieter group than the boys and definitely easier to work with. I walked around the table as they painted each of their beads, giving out helpful pointers and praise. I discovered that the paper flowers were a big hit with the younger girls. They were enchanted when I showed them how to create the vibrant flowers out of folded tissue paper and green pipe cleaners.

On the last day of the second week, the younger boys filed in for their afternoon class. They were more subdued than the older boys, but I credited that to the fact that they were whipped from their earlier activities. I pulled out the stash of clay and smiled when their eyes lit up with enthusiasm. They enjoyed working with the clay the most, and the time always flew by when they were in the class with me.

"Like this, Kimmie?" one of the younger boys asked, making me sigh. It seemed inevitable that I would be "Kimmie" for the rest of the summer.

"Yes, Dennis, just like that," I said, smiling at his misshaped clay bowl. "It looks wonderful, dude," I said, ruffling his hair before it even registered. I was amazed at the ease I felt with the kids in just a few days. The ineptness I had felt earlier had all but disintegrated.

My affection and praise had him beaming at me as he raced to the shelf to set down his new prized possession before he headed off for his last lesson of the day. I cleaned the tables to get the last remnants of the clay off the tables before my girls showed up for my last class of the day. I couldn't help smiling at my possessiveness over them. In just a few short days I had already come to think of them as mine. Life at camp was definitely better than I would have ever thought, marred only by the silence of one. Since our confrontation the day I discovered the truth about Quinn, Mason and I hadn't shared another word. I kept my distance from him and trained myself to refrain from looking in his direction, no matter how badly I wanted to.

"Kimmie," my girls yelled, bursting through the door in their usual exuberant way. Most of them rushed over to hug me like they hadn't seen me in days. Only Alyssa refrained from the hug-fest.

"Hey, Lyssa, how was archery?" I asked, setting the stack of colored tissue paper on the table.

"Fine," she answered, no longer bristling at my questions.

In the beginning, I thought she would balk at the nickname I had chosen for her, but much to my surprise, she seemed to like it. She never actually told me so, but the first night I overheard her correcting Parker when she called her Alyssa. She had informed her that it was Lyssa from now on. I was proud of myself, thinking I alone had broken through her shell. Of course, she burst that bubble when she continued to snub me.

"At least you're making more progress than the rest of us," Amy said admiringly anytime she was around to see it firsthand.

I was still frustrated I couldn't break through Lyssa's wall completely, but I wasn't giving up.

"Did you show up the boys?" I asked.

She nodded, flashing me a rare grin before ducking her head down to read the open book on her lap. The first day I had tried to engage her with the art project, but saw her instant withdrawal and backed off.

"Can we make flowers again today, Kimmie?" Parker asked.

"Sure, we're going to make ones with more sheets today. You up for the challenge?"

"Heck yeah," she squealed, hurrying off to the table to join her friends.

"Okay girls, we're going to do the same flowers as last week, but today I'm going to show you how to make ones like this," I said, holding up the sample flower I had made that was roughly the size of a Frisbee. "You'll be using twelve sheets of tissue paper, so pick your favorite colors. The key to the bigger flowers like these is to keep your folds smaller and more concise."

"Ohhhhhh, I want that one," Frances, one of the younger girls, declared, eyeing it.

I laughed. "I'll show you how I made it and yours will be even better than mine," I promised. I glanced around the table and saw all of them watching me with rapt attention, including Lyssa. It was a unique feeling to have younger kids eating up what I had to say, and made me second-guess my career choices. Maybe I had a future in teaching.

Amy joined me after the last rotation of the day as I was putting supplies away. "So guess what? We're having an after-hours campfire tonight," she declared, dramatically sitting on top of the table I was cleaning off. She lifted her butt as I swiped the rag where she was sitting.

"Um, has it been approved through the boss?" I asked, not keen on the idea of breaking the rules when I was just beginning to fit in.

"Duh, it was his idea. He said it's a treat for all of us, since everything has been running so smoothly. He said he and Louise will check on the campers while we party it up, baby!"

I raised my eyebrows at her.

"Okay, so I may be paraphrasing, but you get the gist. We're off babysitting duty for the night, sweets," she said enthusiastically, hoping off the table to give me a one-armed hug.

"Sooo, are all the counselors coming?" I asked nonchalantly as I turned out the light before we headed out the door.

"Yes, Miss Avoidance, everyone will be there," she said, making her point clear. "And you are going, even if I have to kick your askish all the way from our cabin."

"Whatever," I sighed. I had been avoiding Mason like the plague, but knew I would eventually have to face him. I wasn't the kind of girl that normally hid from anyone, let alone a sarcastic ass. I was disgusted at myself for letting him dictate my life.

"Fine, but I don't want to sit anywhere near his smug self," I grumbled as we made our way to our cabin to clean up before dinner.

"Don't worry, my sista from another motha, I got your back," she teased, nudging me with her hip.

"Right, like I don't see your ploy."

"What?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Um, let's see he's tall, has long auburn hair, eyes that could only be described as bedroom eyes and oh yeah, grins like a goon anytime you're around."

"Travis and I are just friends," she protested for the hundredth time over the last few days.

"Right, and I'm married to Channing Tatum," I teased.

"How can you be sure he doesn't just think of me as a friend?" she asked in a voice filled with insecurity.

"Because, Silly Nilly, those sexy eyes of his light up the instant you enter a room," I said.

"How come I don't see it?"

"Because some meek spirit from the Victorian era takes over your body anytime he's around. I swear, you become a shy, blushing girl who's hardly recognizable. I was tempted to do a séance last night after your body was taken over yet again."

"Gahhhhhh, I know. I don't know what is wrong with me."

"Face it, you're smitten," I teased.

"Smitten?" she said, making a face like it was sour word.

"I figured your inner Victorian spirit would relate better to that term," I said, dancing out of the way as she took a swing at me.

"Shut it," she said, laughing with me.

"Hey, at least you know Travis likes you," I said sourly.

"So you say," she said, still not ready to accept it. "Besides, I still think Mason is harboring a secret desire to do the nasty to you," she quipped, racing to the cabin when I swung at her this time.

"As if," I muttered to myself. More like, has the desire to pitch me off a cliff.

Dinner was the usual noisy affair as the campers compared their days and caught up. I was in my customary seat, sandwiched between Rick and Amy, with Travis and Mason sitting directly across the round table from us. Mealtime had become my own personal hell anyway. If I wasn't working to avoid meeting Mason's continuous glare, I had to watch Travis's starry-eyed gazes at Amy, and her blushing shy metamorphosis. I mean, seriously?

"Are you excited about your night off?" Rick asked, buttering a roll before dipping it into his hearty stew.

"Yeah, it should be fun," I said, still not completely convinced.

"They're always a hit," he said, taking a swig of iced tea. "Of course, you guys might get rained out when the cold front moves in tonight," he added.

"Cold front?" I asked. The last few days had warmed up significantly, and for the most part, a hooded sweatshirt was all I needed.

"Yep, looks like Mother Nature wants to give us one more blast of winter before she lets go."

"But it's almost the third week of June," I protested, hating the idea of wearing the heavy parka again.

"Welcome to global warming," he said, laughing at the irony that we were getting the exact opposite of warm. "Don't worry though, if you guys are lucky, maybe it will hold off until your campout is over."

"I hope so," I said half-truthfully. Getting rained out seemed like the perfect excuse. By the excited chatter around our table that night, I could tell my feelings were solitary.

"You don't sound very enthusiastic," Rick stated.

"I was just contemplating the idea of wearing my parka again just when I thought I was going to be able to bury it," I lied.

He laughed. "Yes, I've noticed cold weather doesn't seem to be your thing. You're a California girl through and through," he said.

"Not really," I said, kicking myself. I had made it my goal to fit into Rick's world as much as I could. Bitching about the cold weather wouldn't go a long way in helping my cause.

"Kimmie, there's nothing wrong with preferring a certain state," Rick said quietly.

"I want to fit in, in this state," I said looking down, not liking how vulnerable I felt.

"You're doing amazing," he said, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "You've adapted wonderfully to this lifestyle, better than most people thrown into the same circumstance," he added.

I flushed with pride at his words. "Thanks, Rick. It really is an amazing camp, and the kids are great," I said, letting my gaze linger on Lyssa and Quinn who happened to be sitting together at the next table over.

"Yeah, it's hard not to get attached," he said, turning serious as he followed my gaze.

"Everything okay?" I asked, puzzled by the sudden tension radiating off him. I wondered if it was because a boy and girl were sitting next to each other.

He sighed and lowered his voice. "I got a call from Alyssa's court advocate and the loony-ass judge has granted her father temporary custody again, effective immediately," he said grimly.

"What does that mean?" I demanded, not liking the sound of it.

"It means they're coming to get her tomorrow," he said, defeated.

"What?" I screeched, pissed beyond further words.

"Shhhhhh," he said, trying to quiet me down as everyone in the dining hall turned to look at me. "She doesn't know. Louise and I plan on telling her after dinner and we want you and Amy to join us."

Uncharacteristic tears filled my eyes. The judge was a moron. What the hell was he thinking putting her back with her father?

"That sucks ass," I said, not bothering to watch my language in front of him.

"I know," he sighed. "But it's our job to make it as easy on her as we can."

I nodded my head, knowing he was right. "We'll be there," I said.

"Good, I knew I could count on you," he said, squeezing my hand one last time.

I turned my gaze from his and found Mason studying us with interest. For the first time in days, I didn't glare at him. Right now, our apparent animosity toward each other seemed silly. We were insignificant in the whole grand scheme of things.

I pulled my gaze from his when Amy said my name on the other side of me.

"What was Rick saying about Alyssa?" she asked quietly.

"They're sending her back to her dad tomorrow," I whispered back.

"Mother of focking hell, are you kidding me?" she hissed.

"I wish," I said miserably. "Rick wants us to join him and Louise when they tell her."

"Of course, but dang it to hell," she said.

"I know. Hard-Knock Girl strikes again," I added.

The rest of the meal passed quickly as the three of us contemplated the impending unpleasant task ahead of us. When the meal was over, Amy and I headed over to Lyssa.

"Hey girlie, we need to talk with you for a few, okay?" Amy said.

She looked at us apprehensively and I tried to smile at her reassuringly, but it came out more as a grimace. Together we headed to Rick's cluttered office.

Amy and I perched on the small loveseat on the far side of the room with Alyssa sandwiched between us. Rick sat on the corner of his desk while Louise leaned against the wall looking like she wanted to strangle someone.

"Whatever it is, spit it out," Lyssa said in her usual abrasive way that I had come to realize was nothing more than a shield.

Without asking permission, I reached over and grabbed her hand. I expected her to pull it away in her normal sassy way, but she surprised me by gripping it hard in her own hand.

"Judge Lewis has awarded custody back to your father," Rick said, not beating around the bush.

"When?" she asked in a distant voice.

"Effective immediately. They're sending your court liaison tomorrow to pick you up."

"Oh, I guess I better go pack," she said in a dead voice, dropping my hand as she stood up.

"Alyssa, sweetie, do you want to talk about it?" Louise asked, leaving her place against the wall.

"Talk about what? The fact that my dad got custody once again? It's no big surprise, right? I'm the Hard-Knock Girl after all," she added, looking at Amy before heading out the door.

Amy groaned and dropped her head into her hands. Without thinking, I jumped off the couch and ran after her.

"Lyssa, wait up," I said, reaching her as she hit the trail for our cabin.

"Why?" she asked in the same belligerent voice she used the first day I met her.

"Because, I care about you," I said, reaching out to put my hand on her shoulder.

"You care about me? That's rich," she mocked, jerking back away from me. "You have two parents who want you, princess. You don't think we all see you strutting around on your high horse around here. Poor Kimberly feels bad for the orphans. Boo for you," she lashed out, striding toward the cabin door.

I stood where she left me, shell-shocked. Did everyone here really feel that way about me? I knew I was worlds removed from the pain they had suffered, but I didn't realize they all thought of me as a fraud.

"She's just upset," Amy said, coming up beside me.

I shook my head. "My mom always says there's a grain of truth in everything everyone says," I mumbled.

"Kimbe, she's just upset. None of us feel that way," she said, grabbing my hand to drag me off toward the bonfire that was blazing to life in the center of the campsite.

"Shouldn't we make sure she's okay?" I asked, trying to shake of the last of my hurt feelings. This wasn't about me. This was about the hurt little girl in our cabin.

"She just needs a little space. Hopefully, we'll get to see her again next summer if you decide to spend the summer with us again," she said, wagging her eyebrows at me.

"Are you sure?" I asked, shooting one last look at the cabin before I let her drag me away.

"I'm positive. Trust me, sometimes when you get a blow like this, you need time to pick yourself up and dust the disappointment off," Amy answered, making it clear she'd been in the same position before.

"This totally sucks," I said, kicking a rock as hard as I could.

She laughed harshly. "It's life. If I had a quarter for every time my life turned unpleasant, I'd be rich. Trust me, I know how Alyssa feels. She just needs a little time to get her shield back in place. It's tough to leave people behind that actually care about you," she added, clearly speaking from experience.

"I'm sorry," I said, slipping my arm through hers.

"Thanks, seriously though, I'm over my childhood drama," she said. "Come on, let's go see what kind of ruckus the others are up to," she added, sounding uncomfortable.

Pushing my concern to the back burner, I let her drag me to the group that was laughing and chattering happily around the blazing fire. I felt it was a betrayal to be partying while Lyssa was so unhappy, but remembered only Amy and I knew what was going on. We plopped down on one of the benches, watching the flames leap into the night sky.

Travis came loping up to us as soon as he spotted Amy. "What took so long?" he demanded.

"I had to do my nails," Amy quipped, flashing him her hand, which was funny because her nails were notorious for being ragged. Between rowing and other chores, most of her nails were broken down to the quicks.

"They look lovely," he said, capturing her hand in his, not bothering to check since his eyes never left hers. "Come dance with me," he said, dragging her to her feet.

"There's no music," she protested, giggling.

"John, music," he called out over his shoulder. Within seconds, John's iPod was docked and blasting out of the speakers. "Now there is," he said, grinning at her.

"Fine, but you better not ruin my pedicure," she joked, following him to the clearing where a couple of the other counselors were dancing to the music.

I watched them for a while, enjoying the feel of the fire on my chilled skin. Rick had been right, a cold front was definitely moving in. I would never get used to this wacky weather. Someone changed the playlist on the iPod and softer music filled the night. Travis pulled Amy into his arms like he had been waiting for this moment all his life. I watched them for a few minutes before deciding that while I wasn't exactly jealous, I was envious of the obvious affection they shared. I stood up and dusted off my butt so I could go check on Lyssa.

"Not up to your usual party standards?" Mason asked, stepping out in front of me. His dog tags gleamed in the glow of the campfire.

"Do you wear these to try to be cool?" I asked, reaching out to grab them.

His warm hand came up and covered mine. "They were my dad's. He died during deployment nine years ago," he said quietly.

"Damn you," I said after a moment. "Why do you manage to bring out the worst in me? I'm not this mean, snippy person," I said, dropping my head. "Why do you hate me so much?" I finally added, looking up at him more confused than ever. I wanted to hate him as much as he hated me, but I couldn't help being drawn to him. My emotions had been put through the wringer tonight, and for the first time in forever, I fought back a sob.

"I don't hate you," he said in a raspy voice, dragging me closer with my hand still clutched in his. "I don't know what I feel, but God knows it's not hate," he added a breath away from me.

My heart pounded in my chest, almost painfully. How had we wound up this close, staring at each other so intently when we were just exchanging insults?

"It's not?" I asked, thinking I heard him wrong.

"No, Kimberly, it's not," he said. "Dance with me," he said softly, changing the subject.

"Why?" I asked, afraid I was being punked again.

"Because, I've been thinking of holding you in my arms for days, and I'm done fighting it."

I shivered as goose bumps popped up on my arms. His closeness was affecting my breathing as I puffed out short shallow breaths.

He pulled me into his arms and locked them firmly around me. Our bodies swayed slowly together to the nearby music in the air. I could feel the heat of his body as he pulled me even closer. I nervously moistened my lips with the tip of my tongue. His eyes darkened as he watched me. I tucked my tongue back in my mouth quickly, not wanting him to think I had done it on purpose.

His free hand moved up my arm, past my shoulder, until it cupped my neck. "I just can't seem to get you out of my mind. God knows I want to," he said huskily, moving even closer.

"Why don't you want me in your mind?"

"Because, I wasn't looking for a summer fling with some girl heading off to college."

"Fling?" I questioned, dropping my eyes to his lips. For days I had been fighting the urge to think about how they would feel pressed against mine, and now they were just inches away.

Catching my look, he tightened his hold on me before finally dropping his lips to mine. Delicious heat flared through me followed by a blanket of coolness as the skies opened up above us. I felt the stinging rain pelt my face, but paid it no mind as his lips claimed mine for his own. I snaked my free hand along his stomach until it gripped the side of his shirt, pulling him closer.

"It's raining," he mumbled against my lips.

"I don't care," I said recklessly. There had been such a fine line of hate between us for days that it felt surreal to be wrapped in his arms.

"Neither do I," he said, dropping his lips almost roughly back on mine once again. I moaned softly at how delicious the pressure felt. He used the tip of his tongue to coax my mouth open and I complied without hesitation. Time stood still as we stayed locked in each other's arms.

"Alyssa's gone," a loud disapproving voice said from behind me.