“What do you think, Ben?” Natalie casts a covetous eye at the hamper and canoe.
He hesitates. “I don’t know…”
“Housh!” Juniper insists.
“Say yes and thank you,” I say.
Ben smiles. “Yes and thank you.”
“Have fun, you two lovebirds. You’ve earned it.” I whisk Juniper toward the bike. “Don’t forget your life vests!” I call and they laugh; it’s the constant counselor cry when camp is in session. Natalie is already slipping off her shoes and pushing the canoe in the water.
Juni and I trundle down the path to the cabins without incident as she keeps up a cheerful if unintelligible commentary on the way, every now and then punctuating it with a word I recognize, like “birb” or “twee.”
At the cabin, I unload her and set her on the floor in the kitchen, showing her how to open the cabinets and pull out the pots and lids her toddler heart desires. Then I go to work.
An hour later, as the pasta water starts boiling, footsteps crunch on the gravel leading to my door. Calmly, I scoop up Juniper and settle her on my hip, knowing it will keep me from getting punched.
I throw open the front door as Ben, freshly soaked from a foundering canoe, is lifting his hand to knock, an equally drenched Natalie beside him. A dry but ticked-looking Sawyer, reeking of rose bubble bath, stands behind them.
It’s exactly who I expect to see, exactly when I expect to see them. And still, my heart flips at the sight of Sawyer so close for the first time in almost a decade. The crinkle lines around his eyes have deepened, and he has a faint five o’clock shadow he’d never been able to grow before.
Like everything else in camp, Sawyer has gotten a glow up.
“You guys are right on time.” I give them my sunniest TV host smile.
“You did this.” Sawyer points at me.
“I did,” I admit without an ounce of guilt. “It’s exactly what you deserve for making me think Sawyer wasn’t around.”
The three of them exchange glances. No one tries to argue the point.
“Now who wants to explain to me what the”—I glance down at Juniper—“heckyou guys were thinking?”
“Heck!” Juniper says.
Natalie sighs, and I step aside to let them in. “I should have known you were up to something when you agreed to the fire ceremony so easily.”
They shuffle past me, and I shut the door. “Okay, guys. Start talking.”
Chapter 12
Ten Years Ago
Therewereonlysomany personality types in the world, and every one of them found their way to Camp Oak Crest in the summer.
There were a few things you could count on: at least a quarter of your cabin kids would be introverts. At least one of them would cry every night the first week no matter what you did. At least one of them would be a massive gossip. At least one of them would be so bossy it ended in mutiny by the fourth day.
Unfortunately, the other thing you could count on was at least one hijacker emerging each summer, one on the boys’ side, one on the girls’ side. As a counselor, I always crossed my fingers that whoever the hijacker was, she wasn’t in my cabin. And I lucked out every year.
The hijacker was always a kid who was going to grow up to be either the boss of a major crime syndicate or a rock star. They were the kid everyone else in the cabin looked to for approval, and they rarely used their powers for good.
They liked to set the temperature of their group, and their attitude would determine whether everyone decided to go along with an activity, or whether it would be declared…shudder…babyish.
It didn’t seem to have anything to do with their mood, either. It was just, periodically, they needed to flex and remind the counselor who really set the tone in the cabin.
Sawyer’s second year, he didnotluck out. He had a hijacker named Max. Interestingly, hijackers weren’t necessarily the biggest talkers in their group. One of their skills was inherently knowing exactly when to talk and when to shut up. But Max, he was one of the rare talkative hijackers. And Max’s favorite subject for his fellow eleven-year-old boys was why girls sucked.
It wasn’t like Sawyer didn’t try to rein him in: he did. But Max—like all hijackers—couldn’t be contained. And since our cabins were regularly scheduled to do things together, my girls had to listen to Max’s opinions about them and their entire gender.
