Keeping Her Secret

by Sarah Nicolas

  “I don’t need you to.” Courtney’s voice had fallen flat, attempting to conceal her fear with icy determination.

  She was lying, of course. All of Juilliard’s scholarships were need-based, and her family certainly didn’t qualify in that department. If she even managed to get in.

  “Courtney, you can’t pay tuition with a pretty smile.” Her mother’s syrupy sweet words grated against her nerves like sandpaper.

  The worst part was, Courtney couldn’t argue with her. She didn’t see how she’d make it four years without her parents’ support. And they’d never give it. This conversation would never end any differently.

  “Okay, Mother, I have to go. We have orientation.” In forty minutes, she added silently. But after this wonderful conversation, Courtney needed some dance time.

  “Kisses,” her mother said.

  Courtney placed the receiver back on its base. When she walked out the door, she realized she hadn’t mentioned seeing Riya. But why would she? Her mother had never been rude to her friend, but she’d let slip little comments in the years after Riya moved away in her patented passive-aggressive style. Maybe now you can make some quality friends, she’d said. And Isn’t Junior Cotillion so much better than playing in the dirt with that girl?

  No, there was no reason to mention it to her mother. Not that it mattered, anyway. Riya’s presence meant nothing. As Courtney stepped from the shadow of the building into the bright sunlight, she declared she’d treat Riya as exactly that: nothing. As far as Courtney was concerned, Riya Johnson did not exist.

  Chapter Two

  “I’ll see you at the welcome thing?” Colt asked Riya as they reached the steps leading up to Cabin G7A.

  He’d walked her the rest of the way, promising her Courtney’s reaction earlier had nothing to do with her. She’d been having a rough day, he’d said, courtesy of their mother. That made sense, at least. Mrs. Chastain had always been a real ball-buster, even when they were kids. But Riya wasn’t convinced. The way those blue eyes had stared at her—like she were the last person on Earth Courtney’d ever hoped to see again—left her stomach tied into tiny knots.

  “Yeah.” Riya tried to infuse the word with cheer and hope but, judging by Colt’s sympathetic half-smile, she’d failed.

  The setting sun glinted off his golden hair as he slowly backed away. “Come over as soon as you can. I’ll introduce you to the guys.”

  “Thank you, Colt,” she said, meaning it with every cell in her body.

  Riya swung open the door and quickly discovered all the beds but one had been claimed, so she tossed her bag on a top bunk in the back corner. Her bunkmate was nowhere to be seen, but a classic brown and gold Louis Vuitton rolling suitcase asserted ownership over the lower bed. What kind of teenager brought a bag like that to a summer camp in the woods?

  All around her, girls unpacked their things into the small dressers provided at the foot of each bed in between casting shy glances at one another. Every now and then, a pair would squeal and hug and talk about how happy they were to see each other again. They slowly filtered out in pairs and trios. Riya shrugged, deciding to abandon her half-unpacked duffel in favor of exploring the camp. She’d unpack later that night. Or tomorrow. Eventually.

  She itched to check out the facilities. Her parents had picked this place based on a brochure, of all things, so she had no idea what to expect. The pamphlet had said they had volleyball, but that was no guarantee. Some places strung a droopy rope crookedly over an uneven, sandy rock pit and called it volleyball. And who knew if enough decent players even came to this camp to give her a good workout?

  Riya wasn’t about to let a lazy summer put her off her game after nabbing an impossible St. John’s Academy scholarship and verbal promises of college offers if she played a stellar senior season. Her parents couldn’t afford the St. John’s tuition, so if she lost that scholarship, she’d have to transfer to another school in the middle of her senior year. Bye-bye college ball and so long “world-class academics.”

  “I wouldn’t take that bed if it were the last one on Earth,” a voice said from behind her.

  Riya turned and found a sturdy Latina peering at her. Slanted afternoon sunlight filtered in through the windows, casting stark shadows on her face and thick, shoulder-length wavy hair.

  “Might as well be,” she said. “It’s the last open spot in the cabin. I guess I got in a little late.”

  The other girl shrugged. “Still.” She strode toward Riya with a confidence in movement reserved for competitive athletes. “The queen bee doesn’t much like us jocks.”

  “Us?” Riya raised an eyebrow. With her casual style and lean muscle, she wasn’t usually assumed to be a jock on first glance.

  The girl motioned to Riya’s duffel, with her number written on it. “What do you play?”

  Riya felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. “Volleyball, mostly. Some soccer, but not on the same level. You?”

  “Softball’s my moneymaker, but I ride the varsity bench for basketball. I’ve played volleyball on the beach with friends.” She said the last part as though it was an apology.

  Riya laughed. “Well, I’ve never touched a softball, so… I’m Riya.”

  “Dee,” she said with a nod. “We play a lot of everything around here, so you’ll have the chance to learn softball.”

  “Perfect.” Riya found herself unable to hold back the grin spreading across her face. A couple of minutes in and she’d already found her people. Or, rather, they’d found her. It was a good thing Dee had spoken first. If it were up to Riya, she’d scrounge up the courage to introduce herself right about the time they all went home.

  “And thanks for the heads up on my bunkmate,” she added, “but I don’t have much of a choice.”

  Dee grimaced, then offered a sympathetic smile. “It should make things interesting, at least. The jocks and the royals have had an ongoing prank war since before I started coming here three years ago.” She returned to her bunk across the room and rifled through her own duffel bag.

  Royals. Queen bee. Riya smirked at the Louis Vuitton bag on her bunk. She knew the type, all right. “Have I just been drafted into that war?” She’d gone to volleyball camp for the past several years and was no stranger to a friendly exchange of shenanigans.

  “Either that or you’re collateral damage.” Dee pulled out an elastic and tamed her voluminous waves into something halfway between a bun and a ponytail. She then pulled out a roll of craft twine and a sleeve of pink princess party cups, holding them up with a dangerous smirk. “Care to fire the first shot of the summer?”

  Instinctively, Riya scanned the bunkhouse. They were alone, the other girls having all gone out onto the porch together. A twinge of unease tickled the back of her neck. Pranking someone she hadn’t even met seemed mean. But Dee did say it was ongoing, so it wouldn’t be unexpected.

  Dee didn’t miss her hesitation. “No biggie if you’re not ready. But it’s going to happen either way. And you’ll definitely get hit at some point, so might as well strike early.”

  Riya cast one more glance at the cabin door before shrugging. “It’s all in good fun, right?”

  Grinning at her, Dee said, “Right.”

  …

  As soon as she opened the door of her cabin, Courtney spotted the web of string crazily woven over her bed, stretching from all four posts and connecting to the springs supporting the top bed.

  Looks like the war has begun.

  It was an old camp prank, but a good one. A couple of steps closer, she realized the pranker had upgraded the standard stunt. Her bags and clothes lay in the middle of the mattress near the wall so that she couldn’t reach them and pull out her cuticle scissors, like she’d been planning to. Suspended all over the web hung little paper princess party cups filled nearly to the brim with water. If she rushed, she’d dump water all over her stuff. If she waited too long to take it down, the water would soak through the cheap cups and soak her stuff. And the prett
y pink dresses and sparkling tiaras printed on the cups were a nice little dig.

  “Well played,” she muttered to herself as her face flushed with irritation. While she could admire the execution of the prank, she wondered who thought it was okay to start the prank war by making the first move against her.

  She gently began untying the knots securing the twine to the bedpost. Her mind ran through the list of girls she’d seen earlier that day. That girl Delores could always be counted on for well-executed pranks. Could be her. Whoever it was, she’d make them pay for it.

  Riya must have been assigned to G7B, the other cabin for girls their age, since she hadn’t turned up during the designated arrival time. Good. Courtney wouldn’t have to see her every morning as soon as she woke and every night before falling asleep. Though, as that mental image formed, a thrill shot through her veins, setting her limbs tingling. Courtney clenched her jaw and refocused on freeing her bed from its twine prison. Riya Johnson wouldn’t distract Courtney from anything this summer. The next four weeks were hers and hers alone.

  The plonk of fat water drops hitting fabric broke her from her thoughts. “Damn it!” One of the cups spilled half of its volume onto the blankets at the foot of the bed before she caught it.

  Managing to extricate the maze without spilling any more water, Courtney dropped the twine to the floor so she could yank a change of clothes and her makeup bag from her suitcase. After changing into her flirtiest outfit of a flowy powder-pink tank top and hip-hugging white shorts, Courtney went to the mirror to reapply her makeup—her armor, as her mother had called it. The welcome talk began in just a few minutes.

  She would wait until almost everyone gathered in the cafeteria, making a strategic, dramatic entrance. All eyes on Courtney, as usual.

  Including Riya’s, she realized, before wiping away that thought with a swipe of her favorite lip gloss.

  But when she tried to sweep eyeliner across her lid, her hand shook too hard to draw a straight line. She surrendered, tossing the pencil into the bag, and settled for brushing a light pink powder across her cheeks and on her eyelids to contrast her baby blues.

  Courtney shook her head and turned slowly away from her own reflection.

  When dropping her makeup at her bunk, she noticed someone had claimed the bunk on top of hers with a dirty duffel bag displaying the number 4 drawn in black permanent marker. Someone who didn’t know better than to share a sleeping structure with Courtney Chastain. And a jock, by the look of it. Talk about adding insult to injury.

  Swift payback would be just the thing to get her mind off of her unfortunate blast from the past. Riya’s presence changed nothing, she told herself. The game plan was still the same: chill on the lake, flirt with all the boys, kiss half the boys, and ignore how none of it made her feel a damn thing.

  When she lugged the duffel over the edge of the bed, it dropped to the floor with a dull thud. Something small and brown rolled across the floor, spinning in on its own path, circling the wooden floor until it tottered and fell onto its side. It was a roll of twine. An exact match to the stuff she’d just untied from her bed.

  A wicked smile inched across Courtney’s shiny pink lips as she leaned over and picked up the twine. She’d have to be a couple of minutes late to the welcome event. Poetic vengeance would be just the thing to get her back on track.

  Chapter Three

  Riya sat on her hands, trying to pretend all of her attention was focused anywhere besides the cafeteria doorway. They’d eaten the traditional first-night spaghetti dinner, and the counselors had started introducing themselves and other camp staff two minutes ago, yet Courtney still wasn’t there. Could she be so upset by Riya’s presence that she wouldn’t show up?

  Riya usually found comfort in the standardization of cafeterias across the nation. Whether it was a barely funded public school, a swanky private academy like St. John’s, a hospital, or—apparently—a summer camp, all cafeterias had basically the same look and equipment. And with as many times as Riya had changed schools, that sort of familiarity could be soothing.

  Colt hadn’t let her dwell on Courtney’s reaction earlier, introducing her to his friends and practically drowning her in questions. If only Courtney could be as happy to catch up as her twin had been. They had been best friends once.

  A parade of people streamed in front of the room, Riya managing to catch the barest details. Bob Fazio, the director, stood not much taller than the eleven-year-olds and seemed like the kind of guy several kids called Uncle Bobby. Betsy, the cook, gave a single wave and the flash of a smile before returning to the kitchen.

  Then came Dane and Dewey, the lifeguards. No relation, despite the alliteration. One was an Australian Abercrombie model-in-training, making the girls in the room sit up straighter, and the other was scrawny and obviously nervous in front of such a crowd, which Riya could certainly relate to. She couldn’t remember which was which.

  Then came Jacob, who elicited whispers from the girls around Riya when Bob introduced him as his nephew and junior counselor. Nancy, a kind-looking woman, was introduced as the arts and crafts director.

  A breeze ruffled her ponytail, and Riya’s gaze snapped to the door. Courtney strolled in like a freaking Nordic goddess with her head held high, cheeks flushed and skin glowing. Sun-kissed legs stretched up from a pair of sparkly sandals for miles and miles until finally disappearing under the hem of low-hung white shorts. Flashes of smooth stomach teased as her pink top moved with every graceful step.

  Riya’s heart pounded in her chest. Courtney Chastain was trying to kill her. That outfit was a perfectly crafted murder weapon. Checking to make sure her mouth didn’t hang open, Riya tore her gaze from Courtney and swallowed. Hard.

  Beside her, Colt slid down the bench, away from Riya. Riya didn’t know why until Courtney froze five feet from them. She glanced at Riya then shook her head at her brother. Colt rolled his eyes in response, patting the sliver of bench between them.

  “Miss Chastain, please take your seat so we may continue,” Bob Fazio called, a small chuckle breaking through his voice.

  It was then Riya noticed she wasn’t the only one distracted by Courtney’s entrance. Excluding her brother, every boy in the room age twelve to eighteen stared in their direction—and some of the girls, too.

  Riya watched a wide range of emotions pass over Courtney’s face in less than a second before she straightened her shoulders in some kind of resolve. Her hair tumbled to her elbows in gentle waves. Sighing, she tossed the golden strands over her shoulder before spinning and squeezing her hips between Riya and Colt.

  The welcome talk continued, but Riya only caught fleeting fragments of the briefing. Something about the daily schedule and a talent show on the last day. Approximately 98 percent of her attention narrowed in on the seven inches of Courtney’s white-silk skin pressed against Riya’s outer thigh.

  Riya took a deep breath to steady herself but caught the sweet rose petal scent wafting from Courtney. She inhaled one deep breath, reveling in the heavenly smell, before shaking her head.

  Ridiculous. She was being completely ridiculous.

  She’d never let anyone have such an overwhelming effect on her. Certainly not someone like Courtney, someone who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—return her affections. Someone who had broken her heart four years ago and never once looked back.

  Riya stared at her own shoelaces, actively un-focusing on the girl sitting next to her.

  Trying to, anyway.

  Next thing she knew, everyone stood around her and the room buzzed with conversation. The welcome event was over.

  “Earth to Riya.”

  Someone bumped her shoulder with theirs, and she looked up to find Colt’s friend Trey smirking at her. Colt had introduced them before they’d sat down, and they’d traded the typical get-to-know-you questions. Where are you from? What do you like to do? That sort of thing.

  He had a fun smile, made even more playful by the shaggy mess of chestnut curls flop
ping around with his every movement. The kind of smile that always received an answer.

  “Easy to space out during these things, huh?” he said.

  She loosed an embarrassed laugh, grateful for the excuse. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  He nodded, his smirk spreading into a full-on grin. “You going to the welcome bonfire?”

  “Bonfire?” She scanned the room, discovering kids filtering out in small groups. She hadn’t heard anything about a bonfire.

  “Of course she is,” Colt interjected, dropping an arm lazily over Riya’s shoulders. “We have four years to catch up on, after all.”

  Riya felt several people’s attention shift to her, both overtly and subtly. Colt Chastain stood out in a crowd. And so did, apparently, anyone he deemed worthy. She squirmed.

  “You really knew the twins when they were kids?” Trey asked, wonder in his eyes. “What were they like?”

  Riya laughed, remembering. “Colt was pretty much the same.” She cast a sideways glance at him, craning her neck to look up. “Except shorter.”

  Colt laughed.

  Trey shrugged as though he expected as much. “And Courtney?”

  Courtney turned at the sound of her name, her eyes taking in the situation with mild disapproval.

  Riya felt the smile drop from her face. She kept trying to picture Courtney from before, but the only image she could conjure was the moment before she jumped down from that tree and ran away from Riya’s kiss. A beat of silence hung awkwardly in the air. Even Trey’s easy smile lost some of its repose.

  Courtney, of all people, saved her. “Seriously, Trey,” she said with a click of her tongue. “You know I’ve always been perfectly fabulous.”

  “Aww, come on,” he laughed. “I want to hear about Courtney Chastain’s awkward years. Before she broke an average of two guys’ hearts per day.”