9. Nine #3
I didn’t look back once, despite the urge to, not even when I heard the patter of Michele’s footsteps heading away from us.
It would have been easier for her to follow our same path back to the office, but clearly, she was so desperate to avoid my pathetic ass that she preferred to go the long way around via the Library and Village.
When I dropped Jonathan off with Hassan, we stood staring at the cabin’s open door.
Other kids were already there and through the door we could hear the shouts of excitement typical of boys Jonathan’s age.
Not his kid though, he just looked up at me and asked, “When will I be able to see my sister again?”
“At dinner, kiddo, and in the meantime, try not to worry. Isabella is the best.”
“Thank you, Cole,” he replied solemnly. He was a sombre kid, and I had to wonder how he would adjust to the usual craziness of camp life but as I walked away, I also realized that I had smiled more in the company of these two quiet kids than I had in months.
Just for that, I was going to make it my mission to ensure he and his sister had the best summer of their lives.
All kids deserve the chance to be kids, and Agonde, in my experience, was a place that could lighten the load for even the most hardened children.
The rest of that afternoon was spent ushering back and forth from cabins to the office.
The only brief break I took was to grab a sandwich from the lunch buffet in the dining hall.
I hadn’t stayed long, largely because from the second I stepped through the heavy doors, Francis approached me.
He slapped his hand down hard on my shoulder.
I flinched at the hit. That fucker was strong, maybe even stronger than me.
His thick neck and short buzz cut made him look less like a college kid and more like a military drill sergeant.
One who got off on punishing cadets, judging by his smug face as I kneaded the spot on my shoulder where he’d hit me.
“Care to join us, Michaels?” He asked, pointing to a table in the centre of the hall where Mitchell was already sitting, tearing into a sandwich.
“Yeah, grab a seat, man!” He shouted with his mouth still full of food.
From the far side of the room, I felt another set of eyes on me.
I’d been under the microscope this whole damn day.
Slowly, I cast a look around for whoever was so intent on watching me, only to find it was the last person I ever expected.
Sitting at a table in the northernmost corner of the room was Toni.
Her blue eyes were piercing, even from this distance, analyzing my every move.
Beside her, Abbi was prattling on as usual, never noticing that her friend’s focus was elsewhere.
I used to be able to look at Toni and know exactly what was going on in her head, or so I’d thought.
The trial convinced me I didn’t know shit.
Last summer, her relationship with Xavier and Brennon only further cemented to me that I never knew Antoinette Barrett at all.
Despite that, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from hers as she begged me for something with nothing more than a small pinch of brows and one mouthed, “Please.”
The whole thing happened in a blink. Over before I even knew what I was saying, but I turned back to Francis and shook my head, “Another time, boys. I’m just here to grab some food and run.”
Run I did, although from which Barrett sibling, I wasn’t sure.
The final kids were dropped off by the bus around 4 p.m., leaving a couple of hours for kids to settle in, followed by the first dinner of the summer.
As usual, it was a riot. The vaulted ceilings of the dining hall kept the space cool during the hot summer days, but it also meant that every cheer and shout carried and echoed, making it easy to get swept up in the moment.
During the meal, I visited every boy's table, repeating the same introduction I’d already done a thousand times today.
There were a mix of new faces, especially amongst the younger cabins, and others I recognized from previous summers.
At the end of the meal, I looked around for any sign of Jack.
There was none. That asshole hadn’t even bothered to turn up for the first meal of the summer.
Fucking typical. That left Abbi and I to do the official after-dinner-welcome.
After a big cheer from all two hundred and fifty kids in the room, Abbi reminded everyone about tonight’s opening campfire down at the Point, before sending the cabins off to get ready.
One by one, they filtered out of the dining hall.
Both Abbi and I remained on stage, watching them go.
She flicked the mic off, and huffed, “Fucking Jack! I’m going to go track him down.
He’s not blowing off the campfire, too.”
I think I mumbled something like, “Good luck,” in response, but the words never mattered to me less, because from the stage I had a perfect view through the kitchen’s serving windows, to where Xavier Rothberg was hiding.
His dark curls, and sharp chin only just visible where he leaned against a corner of the industrial dishwasher–a necessity when you had to feed so many.
It was near the back of the kitchen and running full tilt already.
One of the kitchen staff was tossing tray after tray of plates through its open maw, and steam billowed out everywhere.
Maybe that’s what allowed Xavi to seem so unconcerned, or that fact that he just genuinely didn’t give a shit.
That was more likely. His entire focus was given over to a file in his hands.
A camper file, judging by the Manila colour of the outside.
There was no good reason why Xavi would have or need a camper’s file.
Unlike cabin leaders, or Abbi and I, program staff didn’t need to know the gritty details of kids’ lives.
That shit was strictly need-to-know and was supposed to be locked up tight in Jack’s office.
So how the hell had he gotten his hands on it?
Xavier had always been both the most prepared, and the most devious of all of us.
So, I was certain he’d done something underhanded to get that file.
When the door of the dining hall slammed shut behind the last kid, I rushed from the stage.
Thanks to the swing door between the kitchen and the hall, it wasn’t until I snatched the folder from his hands that he looked up.
“That was rude,” he drawled, bending to pick up the file, but I was faster. Gathering it in my left hand, I shook it at him.
“Where’d you get this? Camper files are supposed to be confidential.”
He laughed, “As if you give a shit.”
I gritted my teeth and squeezed my fists once before exhaling.
“I do actually, and,” I read the name printed on the label, “Rachel, aged seven, probably would, too.”
“Oh, shut up, Cole.”
He rolled his eyes at me, and for the second time this summer, I wanted to punch him.
Or grab him by the throat until he listened to me.
That would put an end to his sarcasm. I did neither because an image of Toni’s bruised face flashed in my mind, and I was reminded of exactly what happened last time.
“And her parents. They would definitely care,” I scolded.
With Brennon’s words echoing in my head, I fought to restrain my frustration.
Looking at Xavi’s mocking face, chin raised defiantly, just made it worse, so I skimmed the file instead.
It contained nothing but the usual details, parents’ names, medical details, program registrations, all that stuff.
Nothing that would or should interest him.
“What are you up to, Xavier?”
I couldn’t help but ask, my curiosity finally getting the better of my apathy. His sly smirk vanished, and he pushed off the machine.
“You lost the right to ask me anything.”
He turned and walked out the kitchen’s back door. I stood there with nothing but that stupid fucking file, all I wanted to do was ask, when? When exactly had I lost the right? Last summer? That summer? That night?
Instead, I made do with shouting “I’m keeping this file!” A lame response, especially when shouted to an empty room.
After the campfire, where I’d done little more than wave from the front of the stage when Jack called the senior staff team up to introduce us all, I headed back to my cabin.
Thankfully, Abbi had managed to track down the Director, otherwise, she and I would have had to play hosts tonight.
And I would be even more exhausted than I already was.
Sleep has always come easy for me. Largely thanks to training five days a week, including two-a-days in the off-season.
Tonight should have been the same, thanks to my day lugging suitcases and duffel bags from one end of Camp to the other, but when my head hit the pillow, every strange interaction of my day looped through my mind’s eye.
Jonathan and Alison, Jack and their father, Stephanie, Francis, the list went on, ending with yet another confrontation with Xavier.
The more I replayed each conversation, the more I considered that maybe Brennon had been right all along.