“What’s her deal?”
I knew exactly what Tori’s deal was, but Cassidy didn’t need that baggage this early in the morning. Anyone who’d be taking Olivia’s place was toast, even though it wasn’t intentional.
“First day, lots to do,” I answered.
“Well, thanks for the escort,” Cassidy said.
“Anytime.”
She was about to go in, but turned back. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable before.”
“You didn’t.”
“So, we’re cool then?”
“Totally.”
“Oh, and it’s Cass. My friends call me Cass,” she said. Tori appeared again, shaking her head as she reached for the doorknob. Cass waved and scooted into the room in front of her. Tori leveled me with a look.
“What?”
“Really, Bryan? You are so basic sometimes.”
With that she closed the door, leaving me in the hallway with a stupid grin on my face. If that was being basic, so be it.
Cassidy Emmerich remembered me from my picture . . . which meant she’d thought about me . . . which meant—well, I really didn’t know what it meant, except that I suddenly felt as high as my brother must have been the other night when he’d been hanging out the window. I made my way back to the multipurpose room.
I fucking loved summer.
FIVE
CASSIDY
“SO YOU AND BRYAN KNOW EACH OTHER?” I ASKED as Tori closed the door.
“Yeah, since, like, forever.”
“He seems cool.”
“He’s a great guy. My friend is sort of seeing him. She was supposed to be my co-counselor this summer,” she said, looking right through me. There was an edge to her voice, not nasty exactly, more protective. I’d been employed for all of ten minutes. How could I be on someone’s bad side already?
“Your friend was supposed to have this job?” My father had mentioned pulling strings, but I couldn’t imagine he had that much influence to knock someone out of their position. He was just a chem teacher slash bed-and-breakfast owner. Not exactly the summer camp mafia.
“Yes, but she had to leave for the summer, so it’s not really your fault or anything, just, you know, kind of a bummer for me.”
“Look, I’m sorry I’m late; my dad told me to go to the office first. I had no clue what position I had. I’d never want to take someone’s job from them,” I said. Her features visibly softened. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and seemed to reboot herself.
“Let me try this again . . . Hey, I’m Tori, welcome to Camp Manatee. Sorry I’m being a total bitch. I’m in the middle of a crisis, not what you want to walk into the first day.”
It was a relief the source of her annoyance wasn’t me. “I’m Cassidy.”
She motioned for me to follow her to the front of the room. The test kitchen was large and bright with rows of tables facing a long island at the front of the room that had a sink and stovetop built into it.
“Do you have any experience in a kitchen?”
“Actually, yeah, my last job was in a bakery. And I do a lot of cooking at home, fend-for-myself kind of stuff. Nothing fancy.” I didn’t add that my bakery job was mostly working the cash register or adding embellishments to cupcakes, but at least it sounded impressive, and for some reason I wanted her to like me. It would be nice to have an actual friend. Ems and I had been texting like crazy, but I craved real conversation with someone other than my six-year-old half brother. Adorable as he was, I wasn’t sure I had much more to add to his constant shark chatter.
“Wow, cool. It’s not like I’m running the cordon bleu of camp programs or anything, but any experience is helpful. We’re icing and decorating cupcakes today, thought I’d keep it simple. We can’t do anything really cool, like chopping or range-top cooking, due to insurance issues.” She crouched down, opened a large drawer, and pulled out two cupcake tins.
“So, um, what’s the crisis?” I asked, following her to the far end of the island. She placed the tins down on the counter next to a shiny silver KitchenAid mixer and lifted the beater back. Chocolate cake batter dripped from it. My stomach growled. I’d missed out on the breakfast part of bed-and-breakfast that morning.
“I had three dozen cupcakes ready to go today, packed them up last night, but my brother and his stoner friends had a midnight snackfest and there were only eight left this morning. I made those suckers from scratch too. It killed me to use box mix for these, but there just wasn’t time.”
I stifled a laugh at the “brother and his stoner friends” comment. Funny as it sounded to me, I didn’t think Tori would appreciate it. She unclamped the bowl from the base and was about to pour the batter into the tins when I stopped her.
“Wait, don’t you have to grease them?”
Tori gasped and placed the bowl down. “Damn, thanks, good call. I don’t know where my head’s at today. There should be cupcake liners over in that far cabinet.”
I walked over to the row of cabinets and opened a few until I came across one that held supplies. Napkins. Straws. Enough plastic wrap to encase the Empire State Building. Tinfoil sheets . . . and finally, cupcake liners. I stood on tiptoe, knocked them off the shelf, and caught the box in my other hand. Tori held up her hand for me to toss them. I did and she missed, laughing.
“We make a great team,” she said, picking them up.
There was a crackle over the PA system. “All counselors report to the multipurpose room for morning rally.”
“Oh shit,” Tori said.
I grabbed the cupcake liners from her hand. “I’ll line, you pour. Do we have to go to . . . what was it . . . morning rally?”
She picked up the batter bowl and followed while I frantically lined the tins.
“Since we don’t have a set group of kids, no, not all the time, but Mr. Beckett wants everyone there on the first day and Fridays; that’s when he makes announcements and stuff.”
“And what about the camp shirt, do we have to wear those?”
“Only mandatory for the special electives counselors on field day.”
We finished lining and pouring and Tori popped the tins in the oven, then we went off to morning rally.
The multipurpose room was writhing with kids. I spied Bryan. He was slightly apart from his group, glancing at a clipboard and then the kids around him, holding his index finger in the air, like he was doing a head count. He looked so much more serious than on our walk to Tori’s room.
I couldn’t believe he was the same guy from the other night at the beach who almost ran me over. Maybe that was exaggerating—the car did sort of swerve out of my way—but the guy hanging out. Ugh. Boys. The apology was welcome. I was so relieved he didn’t press me further about the night, like why I’d been bawling my eyes out, and I hoped I hadn’t overstepped by asking him about how he was hurt. At the fish fry the year before, there hadn’t been any mention of how it happened exactly, just the pictures and talk of his progress. When I saw him in the wheelchair at drop-off, it jogged the memory of where I’d seen him before. He seemed like an upbeat, laid-back guy for having had such a shitty thing happen to him. And he was seeing someone.
Good for him.
“Cassideeeeeee!” Hunter yelled, and waved wildly. I waved back as he tugged on the shirt of the tall boy standing next to him, a counselor I hadn’t met. The dude with the dark-blond man bun. His eyes followed the reach of Hunter’s outstretched arm until they landed on Tori and me. Tori lifted her hand in greeting. He trotted toward us. Tori fidgeted, her mouth twitching into a barely there smile, as if she didn’t want to seem happy but couldn’t help it. It wasn’t hard to see why.
Man-bun dude was hot and he knew it, but not in a cocky way, just the way he carried himself, broad shoulders back, chin lifted. Everything about him said, “Hey, world, I’m here, enjoy me.” He even made the ridiculous camp polo look good.
“Hey, I’m Wade,” he said, holding his hand out to me.
Firm, confident g
rip. Charming green eyes. Must. Stay. Away. That and the way the hint of a smile disappeared from Tori’s face when Wade introduced himself to me. She had a thing. Subtle, but it was there. Wonder if he realized? Lots of girls probably had a thing for Wade. I would not be one of them, no matter how tempting. New hobbies.
“Hunter’s told us all about you.”
“That kind of scares me,” I said.
“Nah, nothing too bad. Don’t let this one boss you around.” His eyes went to Tori.
“Funny,” she said, in a way that let him know it was not funny at all.
“C’mon, Tori, first day of camp, help me make a good impression on the new girl.” He jabbed the air in front of her, bouncing from one foot to the other.
Tori rolled her eyes, but she smiled. “Would you just grow—”
The lights in the multipurpose room flickered off and on, and loud, thrumming bass spilled out through the sound system. Wade and Tori stopped their exchange and we turned toward the front of the room. Someone had started the kids clapping along with the music. I folded my arms across my chest. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any cornier, a six-foot manatee entered the room.
A six-foot manatee wearing a beanie copter hat.
A six-foot manatee shuffled in, that was actually the best word. It waved and bopped along to the music. Mr. Beckett held up one of its fins as they danced their way to the middle of the floor.
“Did you know about this?” Tori shouted at Wade. He shrugged and clapped along, straight-toothed grin lighting up his face as he walked back over to Bryan and his group. He was one of those guys who could make anything look cool, like we were the weird ones for not wanting to join in.
“Is this a new thing?” I asked. She nodded.
I caught Bryan’s eye. He put his clipboard over his face then took it away, shaking his head and grinning. Synchronized clapping with mascots wasn’t his thing either. For some reason, that was comforting, like I had an ally. The music died down and Mr. Beckett tapped his handheld mic before speaking.
“Welcome to the first day of the rest of your summer!”
A cheer exploded through the room.
“We’ve got so much in store for you! Bur first, let’s give a warm welcome to our new camp mascot, Monty!”
“It has a name,” Tori said, covering her eyes.
“On the count of three, ‘Hello, Monty!’ One, two, three—”
Mr. Beckett held his microphone out to a very uninspired yelp of Hulllo, Monteee. Some of the younger kids didn’t look so enthused about a gigantic fake manatee being in such close proximity.
“You can do better than that . . . again, let’s give a warm welcome to Monty!”
It was now or never, I thought. Just jump in and accept that this is what I’d chosen to do for the summer. Goofy as hell, but kind of exciting—new. Different. And about as opposite from Gavin, with his indie-rock, flask-carrying, floppy-haired existence, as I could get. When the count of three was over, I joined in, adding my voice to the chaos:
“Hello, Monty!”
Camp had officially begun.
By the time Friday rolled around, I was more than ready for the weekend. The first week of camp was fun, but being Tori’s second-in-command was intense. She was type A squared and had plans for each and every group that came in. The first week was all about baking, and ended with a craziest-cupcake contest that we judged. The following week was going to be nutritious snacks. If anyone could make it fun, I supposed it could be her. She even seemed to be warming to me, as long as I kept up with her.
And I kept up with her, but now I was ready for two days of freedom.
Well, sort-of freedom. I’d already promised my dad and Leslie that I’d babysit for Hunter that night so they could go to a wine-tasting dinner. My Friday night would be chilling with Hunter and unwinding with a game of Hedbanz. Winning at life and Gavin free! That was me.
I grabbed my backpack. “See ya Monday!”
Tori looked up from her phone. “Wait, where are you going?”
“Um, home, why?”
“Our first staff meeting is in fifteen minutes.”
“Oh crap, I’m supposed to babysit at seven.”
“Relax, you’ll be home long before then. Mr. Beckett can talk the bark off a tree, but he usually keeps these short and sweet. C’mon.”
Tori packed up her bag. We did one final sweep of the test kitchen to make sure we’d put everything away. She locked the door and we walked to a room at the opposite end of the hallway. Wade and Bryan were already there and waved us over. Chairs were arranged in a large circle, which always meant, ick, sharing. Tori took the seat closer to Wade. I sat on her other side, took out my phone, and texted Dad I’d be late but not to worry.
“What are you doing here?”
I looked up as Tori spoke. A boy with dark hair and a backward baseball cap sauntered over to her.
“Nice to see you too, Tor.” He glanced at me. Tori sighed.
“Cass, this is Nick, my brother.”
He tilted his chin in greeting as if it were too much effort to do anything else.
“The cupcake stealer,” I said.
“My reputation precedes me.” He grinned as he slumped into the seat next to me, manspreading enough to make me feel claustrophobic.
“No, really, Nick, why are you here?” Tori talked around me.
“Staff meeting, right?”
“What?”
“Maybe you two should sit closer,” I said, getting up. Tori scooched over and she and Nick continued to hiss at one another. I took the empty seat next to Bryan. I barely noticed his wheelchair. It was compact and almost sporty.
“Checking out the wheels, eh?” he said. My face flushed.
“Uh, I just . . . was thinking how you looked like you were in a folding chair. I didn’t really see your wheels until I was right here. That’s weird to say, isn’t it. Please stop me before I stay something else stupid.”
He smiled—the same friendly, laid-back grin he’d given me from his car that night we met at Crescent Beach.
“So you survived your first week,” Bryan said.
“Yeah, how about you?”
“Piece of cake, but I’m ready for the weekend.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. “Any plans?”
He shook his head. “Nothing big. Some of us are getting together right after this at Sip N’ Freeze a few blocks over. You should come.”
“Sip N’ Freeze? Let me guess, ice cream?”
“They have thirty-two flavors of slush too. Pretzels. Me,” he said. “It’s not strictly about the ice cream. It’s mostly to talk about whoever doesn’t show up.”
“Sounds fun, but I can’t—I’m babysitting tonight.”
“Babysitting? After a week of this, that’s hard-core, Cass,” he said.
“That’s me, hard-core.”
A cheer went up as Mr. Beckett arrived. He raised his hands for us to quiet down.
“What an awesome first week of camp. Thank you, guys, for being so enthusiastic and thank you for staying after. For starters, I’d like you all to go around quick and introduce yourselves with an adjective that begins with the same letter as your first name.”
Groans.
“Guys, really, I won’t keep you long; the sooner we get through the corny ice breakers, the sooner you’ll be on to your weekend. Promise. We’re a team, and knowing each other’s names is important. The alliteration will help you remember—I swear, there’s a purpose. I’ll start—hey, I’m Optimistic Owen.”
Just let me die. Now.
My mind went blank. White noise. An adjective that began with the letter C?
Cool? Crazy? Corny? Catty? I didn’t want to be known as catty. Maybe everyone had played this game before, because my turn seemed to be coming up way, way too quickly. I didn’t imagine Nick would come up with something that fast. Think. Think. Think, Cass.
“Notorious Nick.”
Even he had a good one.
“Trendy Tori.”
“Warped Wade.”
“Badass Bryan.”
All eyes were on me. Deer in the freakin’ headlights. C is for cookie . . . oh damn. I cleared my throat, my brain desperately searching for an adjective.
“Um . . . Catastrophic Cassidy?”
Mr. Beckett grinned. “Is that a warning?”
Laughter. My cheeks burned, but thankfully it was over.
After everyone had been introduced, Optimistic Owen went over a few basic camp procedures—policies for drop-off, that cell phones could be used only during breaks and in emergency situations, discipline issues. It was pretty basic, mostly like school, but with goofy polo shirts and a paycheck.
“And one last thing,” he said, holding up a stack of paper. “This year’s scavenger-hunt clues. Take one as you leave, or if it’s easier you can download it from the rec center website. If you’re not familiar—each year we run a scavenger hunt for the counselors. Yes, more team building, but with prizes. I promise, guys, this is a good one. Once you guess all the answers correctly, each word will be a hint toward what the grand prize is. The only way you can enter is to answer everything. And the only way you can win is if those answers are right. Work in teams of two. If you need a partner, let me know, I can hook you up,” he said, eyes directly on me. Great. That’s what I got for calling myself Catastrophic Cass. Wade leaned over to me.
“Cassidy, wanna partner up?” he asked. I doubted he heard the word no much. I probably should have been grateful—maybe he was just being nice, but I noticed Tori was casually watching our convo unfold. My allegiance was to her, and if turning down green eyes kept me in her good graces, then I’d do it. I also didn’t want to make the Sugar Rush Nate mistake again. If Bryan was dating someone, then he wouldn’t be looking for a hookup. He was safe. A friend. I just couldn’t tell with Wade.
“Oh, thanks, I was actually going to see if Bryan wanted to team up. What do you say?” I turned to him.
“Sure, I’m in,” Bryan said.
Mr. Beckett clapped to get everyone’s attention.
“That’s it, meeting adjourned—if you’re a special electives counselor or not assigned to a specific age group, please see me before you leave. Otherwise, go enjoy the weekend.”
The Season of You & Me Page 6
