Chapter 8
EIGHT
SUMMER
Turns out, the mess hall is behind the cabins to my right.
Which isn’t a far walk, less than five minutes I’d guess, and far enough away that noise wouldn’t be an issue while others are trying to sleep.
I read over the small booklet of information in the care package for counselors.
A map would have been nice, but I guess the camp’s small enough it shouldn’t take long to get used to.
Sitting beside Indy in the backseat of the buggy, I brush my leg against hers on purpose to see if I can get a feel for her. She seems flustered around me for some reason, and part of me wonders if she can see through my walls. Though I hope that’s just me being paranoid.
I caught glimpses of her today while she was at the barn, little peeks of her smiling at everyone, and laughing with Jarrett. Yet every time she saw me, her whole demeanor changed and she either hardly looked at me, or gave me sass.
I don’t know what to make of her, she’s… captivating.
“Did you sleep okay last night?” Mrs. Turner asks, turning around in her seat to look at me.
“I did, though it took me a minute, it’s really quiet out here.” It’s also dark as hell, with only the stars and the moon for light. If I was totally honest, it sort of creeped me out, but I didn’t want to say that.
She chuckles, and Mr. Turner grabs her hand. “It can be an adjustment, where are you from?”
“A little bit of everywhere,” I reply, hoping my non-answer is enough to appease his curiosity, because I don’t want to have to lie to these people. It’s not totally a lie, but it’s also not the entire truth.
No one says anything as we pull up to the mess hall. The doors are thrown open, revealing a warm wooden interior with long picnic tables. There’s music playing, much like at The Raven, only softer.
“Well, let’s eat,” Mr. Turner says, stepping out of the buggy and walking around to help Mrs. Turner. At that small gesture of love, I see Indy smile as she watches her parents, and I turn my head to hide mine. I wonder what it’s like, really loving someone that much.
Walking into the mess hall, I observe from a distance as Indy runs to someone with short black hair and a huge smile. Another person joins them with bright pink hair, and the three of them hug. They start talking, so fast I can’t lip read quickly enough.
“Hi,” a younger guy says walking up to where I’m leaning against a wall, “I’m Santi, you must be Summer.”
His curly hair’s flopping in his face, and it’s so thick I can’t imagine he can see through it all that well. “Mhmm.”
“First year?” He asks, offering me a cup filled with dark liquid. I don’t take it, and he pulls it back into his space with a shrug. “Me too.”
There’s a moment of silence that hangs between us, but Santi’s practically vibrating beside me, so I have no doubt that silence is on borrowed time.
As if on cue, he bursts, “My mama was reluctant to let me come. I mean, I’m old enough I don’t have to ask permission. But she’s my mama, and I respect her. You know?”
Turning to look at him, I realize he must be younger than I thought. “How old are you?”
Flipping his hair out of his face, he beams up at me, “Twenty-two, but I’ve been told I’m mature for my age.”
He shrugs, as if talking my ear off about his mama didn’t just nullify that statement.
“What about you? I mean, you’ve gotta be like at least thirty,” he smiles, looking me up and down until he sees the amused expression on my face and his eyes widen. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way, you’re pretty, and I love your hair–”
“Santi, was it?” I ask, looking around for Indy.
“Yeah!” His excitement is sweet, and damn him, I just don’t have it in me to be mean to the kid.
“I wasn’t offended. I’m thirty-two,” I relent, giving into his obvious lack of social cues. Then I toss him a wink and add, “And I know I’m pretty.”
His smile widens, if that’s even possible, and he looks to his side where a woman with dark skin and locs brushing her shoulder walks over, “Santi, I don’t think she’s much into talkin’.”
Sliding my eyes her way, I raise a brow and smile. “You’re rather observant, aren’t you. I’m simply getting a feel for the place, and the people, that’s all.”
“Mhmm,” she says, eyes sliding toward Indy and the other two people still chatting. “And I’m only here for the free food. How come we didn’t see you around much today?”
I laugh, turning my head her way and offering my hand. “I’m Summer. I was shadowing Indy today.”
“Huh, cool. I’m Kiri,” she says, taking my hand and shaking it firmly. “And this is Santi, he’s a little excited to make friends.”
Santi’s brown cheeks darken a smidge, and he offers me the cup once again. “It’s Mrs. Turner’s sweet tea. Stuff’s addicting.”
Taking the cup, I test it out. He’s not wrong, this is perfectly sweet and has the smallest hint of lemon.
“Good, right?” He asks, eyes wide and smile eager.
“It is, thanks,” I nod, just as Mr. Turner silences the music, and declares our meal ready. We file into a line before the table where food sits on warmers, with paper plates, napkins, and silverware on one side.
Filling my plate, I spot Indy sitting with the same two people she was talking to when we arrived, and slide my plate next to hers. My drink sits forgotten, somewhere at another table.
Her eyes flick up to mine and I catch the small blip of irritation that crosses her face.
I keep my gaze tethered to Indy’s and wait for her to introduce me but she doesn’t. “Since our esteemed hostess isn’t beginning introductions, I’ll start. I’m Summer,” I say, folding my legs into the bench and sitting down beside Indy.
“Ah,” the dark haired one says, “I’m River, my pronouns are they, them.”
“Zaye,” the bright pink haired one says, waving her hand and giving me a wink. “She, her.”
“Have you gotten settled in, Summer?” River asks, lifting a fork full of mac and cheese to their mouth.
“For the most part I think,” I nod, “but I could use a tour. Indy here said you’d be the person to talk to.”
“Did she now?” River looks at Indy with a sly smile, and watches her force a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. “I’ve actually got some work to go over with Mr. Turner tomorrow, but as far as I know Indy is free. Should be no problem for her to show you around, isn’t that right, boss?”
Indy’s sharp glare makes River and Zaye laugh, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from joining them.
“Actually it is a problem. I have things to do,” Indy argues, more like squeaks.
“Oh yeah?” Zaye says, waving her fork around, “like what?”
“Like–well there’s–I need to–” Indy looks my way, then back to her friends, and huffs. “I’ll come get you in the mornin’, but you’d better be ready. I don’t have time to dilly-dally around.”
Her friends laugh, and she promptly ignores me for the rest of the evening. Even when her parents offer me a ride back to my cabin.
“I’ll be alright, I’ve got a date with Indy bright and early tomorrow.” With a wink, I walk off into the night. Jarrett catches up to me after a few strides, and says Indy sent him to make sure I don’t get lost.
“I’m sure I can make it.” I say, not slowing.
He raises his hands as if in surrender with a chuckle.
“Hey I don’t make the rules, but I ain’t gonna ignore a direction from the boss lady.
” He lowers his voice to a whisper and leans real close, “between you and me, Indy can be a bit of a hard ass, but she’s all bark and no bite. If you catch my drift.”
“I think I do.” The information adds to the observations I’ve already made, and it’s nice to know I can still read some people.
His presence is nice, especially when he laughs and gently corrects my direction.
Even after spending the day working here, it’s still new territory, and it’s harder to find my way in the dark, but we make it to my cabin and Jarrett drops me off.
After the workload I took on today, my body sags onto the bed and as the blanket puffs up, a piece of paper floats into the air, slowly drifting to the floor.
My heart thumps in my chest, body frozen in fear.
It can’t be.
I’m being ridiculous. There’s nothing to worry about. A page of my sketch book must have fallen out.
All of the realistic, and completely ordinary scenarios of what it could be fill my head. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and reach down. Plucking the note from the floor, my skin prickles and my hair stands on end as I read it.