1. Jack #2
“The corkboard of wedding invites in our office would say otherwise,” Hazel said carefully, adjusting her aviators on the top of her head.
She had her hand on a bouncing Leo’s shoulder, who looked like he wanted to fire Autumn on the spot.
Our boss’s indignation could have been cause for concern to a normal staffer, but we all knew that Autumn was unshakable, so it didn’t matter.
“And considering your relationship was one of Leo’s success stories, you don’t have room to talk. ”
Autumn ignored her. “And frankly, it was costing everyone too much money.”
She had that right. I couldn’t calculate how many twenties I’d lost during that competition, and I wasn’t about to count.
“I’m still owed my fee from some people.
” She fake-coughed. “Lamar.” She glared at the man who had tried to pair her now-boyfriend off with a woman we called Cherry Lips Cheryl.
To be fair, he’d had no idea that Autumn and Jamie had a history or would end up together.
“And I was sick of doling out fake sympathy after hearing you all were going broke.”
“And we won’t lose money on this stupid replacement?” Leo said, unconcerned with his confrontational attitude.
Autumn put her hands on her hips, a look of scorn on her face. Man, she was especially heartless today. I liked it. Leo was unwavering, not even breaking eye contact as he pushed his black-rimmed glasses up his nose.
“Does anyone want to hear about my alternative?” Autumn said to a crowd that was ignoring her.
She raised her voice. “Yes? That’s what I thought.
So shut up,” she chastised. “I wouldn’t take this away without having a better alternative.
” She directed that at Leo, whose crossed arms said he wasn’t interested.
He looked like a four-year-old being told he had to eat his green beans if he ever wanted to see dessert.
“This year, we’re going to start a tournament-style competition I’m calling Camp Wars. ”
She clicked on to the next slide, and a banner with that same name crossed over a stock image of a group of adults playing tug-of-war.
That shut everyone up. The title alone had me interested. I pictured ducking in a battle zone with hand-made projectiles and beach balls zooming from every angle. Water balloon grenades thrown over sand hills with explosions of glitter cascading over our well-loved beach.
Autumn hit next on the slideshow, which displayed a blank list with dates for each competition. She hit next on her clicker, and the top bullet point appeared with the first competition—poker.
“Nice,” Lamar said happily. He loved the game and was always playing it with his pod.
“Keep your board shorts on, Lamar. You haven’t won yet,” Sawyer said.
“We’ll see about that,” Lamar jested.
“So how is this going to work? We’re going to spread out the competitions over the course of ten weeks.
For campers, it’ll just be fun and games, but for counselors, there’ll be a running score.
If it goes well, we’ll do it again. The leaders of each pod will go against each other, should you choose to participate. ”
We had seven pods—Orion, Phoenix, Andromeda, Cygnus, Delphinus, Corvus, and Lynx—all of which were named after star systems. My pod was Corvus, and it was arguably the best because crows were badass, and so was I.
“What about the seventh pod?” Sawyer asked.
It hadn’t gone without notice that the leader of Andromeda was missing.
It’d been hard to fill that position last year as well, but we’d finished out the year with Nat, a social media influencer who also happened to be the woman my now ex-girlfriend cheated on me with.
She would not be missed. If the other staffers knew what happened, they would be on my side, but there was no point in digging up the past.
Because Camp Starlight only ran from May to September, our counselors came and went each year.
We were always fortunate to see some returning faces because it was such a fun place to work.
We’d never had a returning staffer for Andromeda, and we’d had people leave earlier than they were contracted.
I was beginning to think that pod was cursed, because the person who was slated to replace her had ghosted us a week ago.
“I’ll be filling in since we’re down a counselor—” Autumn started.
“Actually—” Hazel interrupted.
“What’s the prize for the competition?”
“Can all the pods team up against Lamar at poker?”
“Are campers spectators, or…?”
Autumn picked from the barrage of questions and continued. “Sorry, I wasn’t clear: for much of the tournament, the campers will be involved in a pod versus pod showdown, but there are some activities where it will just be counselor pitted against counselor.”
“Wait, we don’t even get to compete?” I could see the vein in Leo’s forehead twitch from here.
“You’ve got enough going on with Camp Sunlight.” The second camp was being launched next week, and Leo and Hazel were traveling to Northern California to make sure it went off without a hitch. If it were to be anything like the launch of Camp Starlight, it wouldn’t be perfect right off the bat.
Leo looked mollified but definitely not happy. “Fine.”
His acceptance prompted Autumn to continue.
“As always, the true competition will be going on behind the scenes. We got lucky that no one discovered our meddling with the shipping board, but this is another sensitive issue. Campers won’t suspect a thing, as long as we don’t get too competitive. ” Yeah, right.
Autumn eyed me and several other people. She had to know what she was doing. After all, the competitiveness around the shipping board nearly came to physical blows. Maybe I was exaggerating, but it did get pretty cutthroat. That might have been another reason it was getting shut down.
She clicked several more times so the remaining bullets appeared with all of the competitions.
I scanned the categories, feeling all too pleased. This was going to be fun. We had poker, flag football, swimming, archery, and a—
“We’re doing a bake-off?” Bobby asked, practically bouncing.
“That one will be hosted by you,” Autumn said to our sous-chef, who was also our head baker. We all knew Bobby wanted to have his own cooking show. “Ready to tell people their cakes aren’t up to snuff?”
“Everyone’s cakes will be perfect.” He beamed at us. Either Bobby would be the most impartial host ever, or he’d be terrible at dishing out criticism, pun intended. Only time would tell.
Autumn went on to explain some important particulars.
Each event had assigned judges, from camp staffers to friends from the town of Wildwood.
She’d organized this thing to go off without a hitch.
Now it was just up to us to provide the entertainment.
I already knew my pod was going to sweep most of these. I mean, an obstacle race? Come on.
Emerson narrowed her eyes. “Autumn, what if there’s a tie? Will there be a tiebreaker?”
“Oooh, like fastest friendship bracelet making?” Sawyer suggested.
Lamar lifted his finger in the air. “Cleanest bunks?”
“We’re still a destination resort,” Hazel chimed in. “We will not be checking people’s living areas.”
“I vote we have a hot pepper challenge to see who can eat the spiciest one,” Azalea offered.
“Um, no thanks,” I blurted, and I was quickly backed up by other agreeing murmurs. That sounded painful.
Leo was barely containing his laughter, his shoulders shaking.
Autumn chuckled. “Fantastic. If there’s a tie, we’ll figure it out.”
“Though it shouldn’t need to be on your radar since I’ll be the one winning,” I interjected.
People turned on me, laughing like it was the funniest joke they’d ever heard, even though I’d definitely be a strong contender. They’d all lick their wounds when they lost.
Just then, the door burst open, demanding our attention with a large creak and the sun shining through everything but the silhouette of a woman.
“Oof, that door still does that, huh?” she said, stepping inside to reveal herself. Of course, she would make her entrance by pointing out one of the many things on my laundry list of tasks that I was behind on. What a surprise.
Nat Breckenridge’s caramel-brown hair couldn’t be confused with someone else’s. Her sun-kissed cheeks and deep brown eyes had mesmerized more than a few campers. Her voice was rushed, which paired nicely with the sheen of sweat on her brow. She was late after all.
Her arrival elicited excitement and several gasps as people waved at her. I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t known about her arrival. Visit? I didn’t know what she was doing here.
“Go back to what you were doing.” She waved us off with the grace of Marie Antoinette, and I wondered if the exasperation in her voice was directed at us or if it was because she’d just run here.
Probably the former. The woman was entitled.
That might sound judgmental, but still, who did she think she was? And what was she doing here?