It’s not my attitude that sucks, I always tell him, it’s my life.
I usually get the eye roll that I can totally feel, even over the phone.
This time he doesn’t even wait for me to say hello. “I was just at your apartment, where I met a very nice black man who is apparently not just your dance partner, as you would have me believe, but someone who knows you well enough to have a key to your apartment. Since I’m the only person you’ve ever let have a key to your apartment, and I had to bribe you to get it, and Nate has one, I’m thinking he’s someone important in your life.”
“Austin, I really don’t need—”
“Nice try, but I’m not finished.” He doesn’t even pause. “He said you were supposed to meet him over a week ago, never showed, and he hasn’t seen your car since. I don’t know where you are, and that, my little sister, is not acceptable.” He lets out a huff, his gay-boy specialty, and waits for my explanation.
“I’m not telling you where I am without a promise of silence.” I keep my voice quiet enough that I might get some sympathy instead of another lecture that’ll be the equivalent of an Austin bitch-slap—his words, not mine.
“So. This is serious.”
“Do you promise you won’t tell?” I ask.
“Fine. I promise. But that Nate is tasty, Sam.”
“I don’t want to talk about Nate!” I take a breath after shrieking into the phone, which I did not totally intend on doing.
“Did he do someone else? Because he doesn’t seem like the type.” I can picture Austin now, shaking his head at me.
“No.” Austin won’t get it. I don’t totally get it. Nate is pretty exceptional in every way.
“You did?” Now his eyes would be widened.
“No.”
“I’m at a loss, Sam.”
“I’m at camp.”
“Wait.” He snorts. “That place you called a smelly shithole?”
“That’s the one. I…” But I can’t even tell my brother what’s going on. We sit on opposite ends of the line in silence.
“You ran.” His voice isn’t accusatory, it’s sad. That makes it ten million times worse.
“Look. I’m a counselor here, and we’re actually not supposed to use our phones during…well…when we’re on duty, so…” I need off the phone.
He huffs again. “Sam. I do not appreciate being sloughed off. You never care about rules.”
“Please don’t tell Nate, okay?”
“You need space, huh?” he asks.
“Lots of it.”
“Fine. I won’t tell him for now. But Sam… Don’t let him go unless you really need away. I actually like this one. I never like them. Ever. And I like this one.” Austin will be wearing a pouty face to make sure I know he’s serious, but still loves me.
I could definitely do worse as far as siblings go.
“Thanks, Austin. We’ll chat soon.”
He makes a ridiculous kissing noise before hanging up. We never say goodbye. I love my brother to pieces because he’s there, but doesn’t give me too much shit about being me.
It’s my night “on” and Ray, who’s the other girl sleeping in bunk nine, has the night off. The fifteen-year-olds are all mine. The fact that they take all the cell phones away from these campers is just cruel. They’re playing some version of a “this is what will happen in your life” game on a sheet of paper while I scroll through emails on my phone, and try to dissolve into the corner.
I’ve been typing up an email to Mable on when I’ll be back to teach dance and why I disappeared, since I left, but I haven’t found the words yet. It’s starting to suck knowing how angry and hurt she might be. Or maybe she’ll just drop me, and I’m worrying about nothing. The thought of disappointing her makes me sick to my stomach.
After ten minutes of tinking with the same letter, I finally hit send, knowing I probably sealed my fate with her when I took off a couple weeks ago.
“I didn’t think we were supposed to have cell phones.” Jordin scowls over the paper. Why do I have to be stuck with the fifteen-year-olds? They know everything. Jordin’s worse because she’s the know-it-all goodie-goodie of the group.
“Tell you what.” I sit up in bed. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.” Then I wink.
“Nice try.” Savannah, a red haired girl frowns. “They’ve confiscated ours. Remember?”
Right.
“I’m a counselor. Having my phone is one of my privileges.” I sit back again, but all eyes are on me now, and the room is silent.
“What the fuc… heck do you want?” I’m just out of patience tonight. It’s too damn hot to think.
“Maybe one night with our phones?” Savannah’s face pulls into a smirk.
I would have died of happiness if a counselor had done that for me.
Ray won’t be back for hours. Her boyfriend lives in this dump town, and my guess is she’ll show up just before breakfast.
“Okay.” I stand up. “I’m about to perform a mission on behalf of you girls and your friends and boyfriends you’ve left at home. This is what I want in return.”
The room is silent.
“You will forever remember that your camp counselor, Sam, was the best counselor you ever had.” I set my hands on my hips as they continue to stare. “And you will never, ever, give me any shit or tell your parents that I swear. Got it?”
Jordin frowns. “All you do is sit in the corner.”
“So. No one wants their phones.” I start to sit back down.
“No, no, no!” Savannah screeches. “You’re the best ever!”
The girls laugh, and then beg, and do the big puppy-eyes thing at me.
“Give me a few.” I step out of the cabin and toward the main office. Irene would fire me over this for sure. The girls are allowed phone privileges for a couple of hours on Sunday. I suspect that they spend most of that time exchanging numbers and texting each other, but whatever.
My mission is surprisingly easy because I borrowed Jody’s keys while she was in a huffy argument with loser safety-Jeff, and the phones are separated into boxes by cabin in the main office.
I pull out the box for cabin nine, and each girl has a small bag with their electronics. Perfect.
I’m greeted at the door with cheers, and a promise that no word of this will get out.
Paloma’s the last girl up. The last phone out. And I feel like total shit because I had no idea that she was in my cabin when I called her out on smoking the first night.
Chapter Thirty-one
Ten to twelve year-olds trying to swing their hips to do the sexy salsa is always one of my high points of hilarity at camp.
I teach cheerleading most days, but we stopped early because they wanted to know what kind of dancing I do when I’m not here.
What the girls don’t realize as their hips move in wonky motions from side to side is that so often, less is more. Not in many things in life, but definitely in dancing. You twist your waist and slide your hips just enough to catch eyes. Then they watch you, waiting for your body to swing that motion again. It’s the subtle part of the dance that really attracts attention.
Everyone claps at the fancy stuff, but if you can keep the eyes on you when you’re just in the middle of a line, that’s a big deal.
“Sam?” One of the girls touches my arm. “Can you demonstrate again?”
Fifteen pairs of eager eyes are on me. The younger girls always want me to dance the dances again and again. I should probably take it as a compliment.
I sigh. “Yeah. Sure.”
As much as I’ve been teaching, I haven’t just danced for me—at least not much.
I love dancing. Love. But when I do something I love, it opens me up to feel things I really don’t want to feel.
Nate’s breath on my shoulder as I do the line for the girls again. His hand low on my waist as I do the turn at the end. His dark brown eyes and skin so dark that I feel like a porcelain doll in his arms, no matter how tan I am.
How tan I was.
It’s crucial that I remember this all in the past tense, because no matter what Nate thinks he wants, he doesn’t actually want me. Not really.
I continue my circle of salsa steps, and it’s like he’s here with me, only he’s not, because I left him back in Boston.
Nate should have been a totally safe person for me to hang out with after rehearsals. Guys who are as good at ballroom dancing as Nate are gay—at least that was my experience up to that point. He was supposed to be totally safe for someone who had no intention of dating, much less ever settling down.
The first time he kissed me, I was in such shock that I didn’t push him away. I’d already let him in on way too much for us to be physical, too.
But that kiss curled my toes and wrapped my body around his and he may have been an incredible mover on the dance floor, but nothing compared to how he was in bed…
I’m not dancing anymore, and no one’s talking. When did that happen?
“Sam. The lunch bell rang. Are we excused?”
“Of course,” I recover. Sort of. “You don’t need me. Lunch is lunch. Go eat.” I’m rambling like an idiot because I’m feeling all swimmy inside over a memory…
As far as I can tell there’s no way to get this guy out of my head. I’m so fucked.
I swear mornings at camp come earlier than morning anywhere else—even on the days when I’m allowed to sleep in.
My phone buzzes, and I reach over and answer without thinking.
“Hello?”
“Sam. Thank god.” Nate. “I’ve been worried. Please let me talk, I…”
“I didn’t mean to answer.” God, I’m horrible. He should know I’m horrible.
“Your brother stopped by, and he didn’t know you were gone. I called your parents, and I—”
I sit up in bed, heart hammering. My parents don’t meet the people I know. Not ever. We don’t talk. “You called my parents?”
“I guess I messed up, Sam. I know I did. And I know you better than you think I do.” His voice is nothing but the smooth calm I’m used to from him, and my anger starts to dissolve into helplessness, which will turn back into anger after I get frustrated about feeling helpless. “But it’s how I feel, and I wanted you to know, and I didn’t want that to scare you away. I just wanted honesty between us.”
“You don’t want honesty, Nate.” If he knew me. Really knew me. We’d have never gotten to the point where he said he loved me. Never.
“I do.”
“No. You don’t. I used to sell meth to my cheerleading friends in high school until I got pregnant and dropped out. I sold No Doz at camp goodie-two-shoes last year as a counselor. I’m a mess. I’m the bad girl no one wants around. I don’t do relationships, Nate. I just can’t. It’s not what I want.”
Silence fills the line between us, and I want him to hang up, but I also want him to talk me out of whatever mixed up shittiness is tearing at my insides.
“Am I hard to be with?”
His question is not what I expected. I can feel his words tearing down the walls I’ve built up to keep him away. “No.”
“Because you were my friend, and then we got to be more, and I loved that… You.” His voice is still so warm and soft. Low without being weirdly deep.
“Please don’t use that word. Not with me.” Tears are streaming down my face, and I’m not even sure why.
“Can we meet up? Can I see you?”
“You don’t want to see me.” I hang up before his pleading voice convinces me to do something really stupid. Like tell him where I am.
It’s too hot for activities. To me it’s been too hot for activities since I got here, but now it’s official. I’m in my silver bikini resting on a lounge chair near the lake. I don’t have lifeguard training, so I figure I pretty much have the day off.
Jody rips her towel off the dock, and tries to hide herself in a flurry of movement, and then I catch sight of hot bartender, Liam, who is practically drooling over her, lucky girl. Liam looks like a badass, but my guess is he’s a pretty decent guy. Even if he’s not, every girl needs at least one asshole. God knows I’ve found a few.
Paloma sits next to me, her skinny brown legs stretch out in the coarse sand.
“Why aren’t you playing with everyone else?” I gesture to the chaos that is the lake.
She shrugs.
“So…” I have no idea how to talk to this girl. “Both sessions, huh?”
“My dad’s busy.”
“And your mom?”
“Busier.” Paloma doesn’t look at me, only stares out at the lake.
We sit in silence for a minute, and I half wish that she’d back away and leave me alone.
“Brothers and sisters?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“I have a brother.” One that I hope will be better about keeping secrets than he has been in the past.
“You two get along?” she asks.
“Most of the time. My parents won’t talk to him because he’s gay.”
Paloma scowls. “That’s bullshit.”
“Watch your mouth,” I say without thinking.
She scoffs. “Yes. Because your pure ears couldn’t take it.”
“Listen.” I sit up and sigh. “I don’t need any attitude from you, okay?”
“Fine.” Only she says it like I say it, which basically means “screw you”.
“You are full of attitude, aren’t you?” I ask. And now that I think about it, maybe that’s why I didn’t tell her to take off when she first sat down—it’s something we have in common.
She shrugs.
“Got a boyfriend?” I ask.
Her eyes flash toward mine, and now she’s got a real smile. “Yes, and he’s great.”
“That’s good.” Only no fifteen- or sixteen-year old boys are great.
“You don’t believe me.” She folds her arms.
“Does it matter?” I ask.
“He’s a nice guy,” she insists.
“Sorry. My experience with high school boys isn’t all that great.” I shift my body to get a slightly different angle from the sun.
“He’s just graduated.”
I chuckle. “And you’re fifteen? That’s even worse.”
“Oh. So you have experience dating some older guy when you were in high school?” Her voice is tinged with disbelief.
“Yes. I did. I was going to graduate early, and we were going to get an apartment, only I ended up pregnant instead.” That was maybe the beginning of who I am now. That and my parents not allowing me out of the house without minute by minute details of where I was going and who I would be with.
I glance over at Paloma to see her jaw slack.
“He was so nice about it. Even paid for his half of the abortion. My parents found out when I came home with meds and a list of instructions in my jeans, at which point I left Wisconsin, and moved in with my brother who was a freshman in college.” I’m wondering if any of this is sinking in.
Paloma’s silent. Still listening. Fuck, at this point I might as well finish the story off. Maybe she’ll ditch the older guy.
“So he came over a few times and thought it was going to be so great that I didn’t have parents anymore. What he didn’t plan on was my brother keeping a more careful eye on me than my parents ever bothered to do, and when he realized I wasn’t supposed to have sex with him for six weeks after the abortion, he found someone else to have sex with.”
“Wow. So that’s why you’re so messed up?” Paloma’s so relaxed in how she says it.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t know the whole story about what’s going on, but I overheard your conversation with the guy this morning, and with your brother a couple days ago. Messed up.” She relaxes back in the sand like I’d want her anywhere near me.
“Find somewhere else to sit.” I roll onto my stomach.
“What?” Now she sounds surprised.
“Go. Somewhere. Else.” I don’t
move.
After a few more seconds there’s shuffling and Paloma walks off.
Dammit. Now I feel like shit for chasing her away. Why am I suddenly caring about everything? It shouldn’t matter. She’s one girl in a camp full of girls, and she plopped down next to me uninvited.
What did she expect?
Chapter Thirty-two
I’m at the Little Minnow with Jody because Kay-Kay bailed on us tonight. It’s still too damn hot to think.
When we step in, Jody half freezes as she sees Liam behind the bar. I have to practically shove her on him when I catch Travis out of the corner of my eye.
Wow. That’s a boy’s name I wouldn’t forget. Travis is definitely worth remembering.
“Sam.” He gives me a wave. Travis is still a bit pale, but he’ll darken up quick chasing the boys around. And if I remember right, Travis has very nice hands.
“Hey, you.” I sit close enough that our sides touch, even though it’s too hot in here to want to be close.
“You look…” He shakes his head, and a lock of his hair falls over his forehead.
Travis definitely has locks. Thick, wavy, brown, touchable locks.
“…damn good. But you probably already know that, don’t you?”
I smirk and lean in a little closer. Travis is definitely a good contender for huge amounts of distraction.
“This is Trey and Freckle.” He nods toward the two guys he’s sharing a table with.
“Freckle?” I ask.
“You don’t want to know.” They say at the same time.
I laugh because whatever I’m imagining, is probably worse than it is.
“It’s hot in here.” Travis’s eyes are on me. “Step outside?”
“Sure.” I stand up, trying not to look too eager, but right now anyone’s hands on me would be better than no one’s hands on me, and there has to be something that can make me not think about Nate.
“How you been?” Travis asks as we step into the humid night air.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Same, I guess.” I sit on the picnic table where I sat next to Jerry a week or so ago.
10 Weeks Page 13
