20. Twenty
Twenty
Cole
It took me nearly an hour on Parent’s Day to talk Jack down from firing Brennon outright. Most of my argument hinged on the fact that, without Brennon, Jack would have to handle payroll himself. Thankfully, that did the trick.
For once, in all our years of friendship, I was the one who kept his cool, while Brennon, our joker, lost his shit. I understood, though. What happened to Holly...fuck, what I did to that poor girl, it ate at all of us.
Later that day, I tracked Brennon down at his cabin in the Village. He was seated on his stoop with his head in his hands.
He never looked up, but he must have recognized my shadow, because his voice cracked “The girl, man, the girl…”
“We don’t know what happened to her.”
“But Jack...”
“I’ll admit, it’s sketchy as fuck. The girl, Jack, the whole damn thing.”
He swiped his hands down his face and finally looked up.
The bags under his eyes were even deeper now than they’d been a couple weeks ago.
And the look on his face, was so familiar.
The same confusion, uncertainty, and disappointment from every time his shitty dad turned up, only to turn around and treat him like garbage.
From the day my mom left, I’d always known what to expect from Carl, but Brennon seemed to hold out hope for Blue long after he should have.
We might not be as close as we used to be, but damn, if those blue eyes didn’t get to me.
For so long, they’d been ice cold whenever he looked my way, but right now, there were signs the ice was melting.
I reached down for his hand. He watched, unsure, but eventually stuck his out in return.
I wasn’t sure what I was doing either. Shaking his hand, maybe? Maybe not. I pulled on his long arm and easily lifted the lanky fucker off his ass and into an awkward-as-fuck, honest-to-God, hug.
“Are we huggers now, Michaels?” He asked, his skinny frame shaking in my hold.
“Shut up.” I grumbled, but his back shook with laughter.
When we pulled away, I held tight to his forearm, “Whatever happened to that girl. It’s my fault. I know that. I promise, man, we will find out what happened.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but we will. Now go get some sleep. You look like shit.”
“You said that two weeks ago,” He joked.
“I know. And it’s still fucking true.”
I watched his back, and the tattoo I hadn’t really noticed before.
A tall, spindly pine tree, all black, that normally I wouldn’t see, but he hadn’t bothered to change, and the tank top he wore hung loosely over his frame, enough that I could make it out.
Somewhere around age sixteen or maybe seventeen, I’d stopped paying attention to Brennon’s tattoos.
Stopped giving them anything other than a cursory glance.
But this one, it was familiar. If not the tattoo, the shape.
The smacking sound of his door closing behind him cracked my concentration.
I’d find Brennon again later, and maybe Xavi and Toni too, because I wasn’t such an asshole–or I was trying not to be–that I couldn’t admit those two were right about Jack.
The rest of Parent’s Day came and went. I never did find Brennon again.
He didn’t appear in the dining hall that night, nor did I catch any sight of his white hair at breakfast the next morning.
Without him, I couldn’t bring myself to approach the other two, even though I knew I needed to, knew they were owed an explanation.
Toni and Xav were a dynamic duo, while, without Bren, I had no one on my team.
Add to that the post-Parent’s Day slump that always hit the staff hard, and all the regular parts of being Boys Section Head felt too difficult to even bother.
People always underestimate how long and intense the summers are for kids and staff alike.
By Parent’s Day, the majority of the staff had been living and breathing Agonde for two whole months.
Longer, for us senior staff. Much as we might love it, and despite everything, I still did love it, it was also exhausting.
Like clockwork, the days after Parent’s Day are like the roughest miles in a marathon.
Kids who shed their homesickness weeks ago caught it again after seeing their folks.
Staff who started out as fuck buddies in June hit rough patches and broke-up.
Last summer Michele and I were early victims of this, for reasons that now made total sense, but still.
Jack seemed to have crawled back into whatever hole he’d been hiding in before Parent’s Day, so Abbi and I were both run ragged doing our own jobs and his.
Only when the slump started to fade, and both kids and staff slid back into the Agonde routine, did I get the staunch reminder of just how much we still had to deal with.
For the past several days, every meal, every loud guffaw from Mitchell or cutting stare from Jack–when he bothered to turn up–had been a reminder of just how badly we needed to do something.
With our boss, we needed to be sly, but as far as I was concerned, we should just kick the shit out of Mitchell so badly he’d have to be sent home.
A broken leg and a couple of shattered ribs seemed about right.
Though every time I considered it, his words would echo ‘…be prepared to kill me, otherwise who knows what stories I might tell, and flashes of those pictures, ones he had no right to have, of Toni and Xav or of Michele on her knees with Isabella, yeah, those stayed my fists. If I couldn’t use brawn, I was going to need brain.
And, helpfully, Brennon–while not a strategist like Xav–was at the very least a computer genius.
It was late in the afternoon. Since lunch, I’d been cooped up in the Section Office with Abbi.
Although the two of us always got on each other’s nerves, we also had no choice but to work together, especially when it came to camp-wide planning.
There was a theme day coming up on the weekend, where we’d break from the regular schedule, and instead, everything that day, from meals to activities, would revolve around a particular theme.
As annoying as she was, Abbi was great at coming up with the creative stuff.
Over the past few hours, we’d decided on a Roman Empire theme and outlined a whole series of games, challenges and characters for the other senior staff to take on.
Abbi had opted for Cleopatra, of course, while I was already looking forward to seeing Brennon’s face when I assigned him the role of Lucius, servant to my Julius Caesar.
But now, I needed a break, some fresh air, and to not be bossed around by Abbi for five fucking minutes.
Cabin-based activities were just starting, so snatching the list I kept pinned above my desk, both Abs and I left the office.
Unintentionally, we headed in the same direction.
My plan was to head to the low ropes course, where the youngest boy's cabin was supposed to be, but as we passed the main office, both Brennon and Riley came bounding out the door.
“Cole!”
“Abbs!”
They shouted in near unison. Only, Brennon’s call made both Abbi and Riley stop short, before shooting him, then each other, confused looks.
Brennon, who hadn’t noticed, practically bounced towards me. For the first time all summer, he didn’t look strung out.
“Finally getting some sleep?” I asked.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Puck Dropper,” He rolled his eyes and ruffled his hand through his hair, “You were right.”
“Puck Dropper?!” Abbi snickered, “I didn’t know you had a nickname, Michaels?
” More giggles. The smug smile on her face made me grind my teeth.
Riley, smart boy that he is, grabbed her by the elbow and tried to drag her away before I lost my shit.
She let him, but that didn’t stop her from laughing or calling out, “Where’d it come from?
Did you ‘drop the soap’ for Grace over there?
” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Shut the hell up, Abbi!” I shouted back, before rounding on Brennon.
“Can you fucking cool it with that nickname?”
“Why?” His happy smile turned frigid, “You worried someone will think we’re friends or something?”
“Or something,” I mumbled, then cleared my throat under his fierce stare.
“What did you want Brennon?”
“Well, before you turned back into Captain Douchebag just now, I was going to tell you about a dream I had.”
“I don’t give a shit about your dreams.”
“Not even the one where you bent over and-”
“Fuck off,” I grunted, he just smirked.
“Ohhhhh, you mean you don’t give a shit about the dream where I came up with a super badass plan to get rid of Mitchell?”
My eyebrows shot up.
He just grinned and fiddled with his stupid piercing, “Thought so.”
I rolled my eyes, “Just spill it.”
“Patience, big boy.”
Annoyed, I started to walk away. I had better shit to do then wait around for him to get to the damn point. But just like on Parent’s Day, he couldn’t stop. He bounced along behind me like a little lost dog. At least, as we walked, he finally started to explain.
I was never meant to make it to the low ropes course, or to any of the other cabin activities that afternoon.
Brennon was halfway through explaining his plan when we crossed the path that cut between the Staff Village and the girls’ cabins.
It was the one all male campers and staff were meant to use.
The idea being that it kept the boys away from the girls’ cabins.
There was a similar path for the girls to use on the boys’ side of camp.
Which made it very fucking strange to see Mitchell and Francis strolling their way towards Iris, Bella’s cabin.
They were just walking. That on its own wasn’t outright suspicious but knowing what I did now about Greer and recalling the look of terror in Toni’s eyes across the dining hall all those weeks ago, I couldn’t help but be concerned.
For a beat, I considered letting it slide. Right up until the moment Mitchell reached for the purple door.
“HEY!” My voice boomed through the narrow copse of trees separating the two paths.
Mitchell practically jumped out of his skin at my shout, causing both Brennon and I to smile.
His hand immediately dropped, darting back to his side.
Francis, on the other hand, wasn’t rattled at all.
He turned, slowly, a half-smile twisting his face into a grimace.
They might be twins, but Francis’ smile lacked every ounce of the warmth his sister’s had.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the captain and the rockstar? Aren’t you missing one?”
Brennon paled beside me. It would take more than some vague reference to Xav to scare me. Besides, if it came down to it, we were practically the same size and I was willing to bet that living in Daddy’s penthouse, he hadn’t been in many fights.
I called out again, “What are you doing?!” It was an accusation.
I meant it to be. Thankfully, Bella and her girls were out at their scheduled activity.
Not that that changed the fact that they shouldn’t have been there.
And they definitely shouldn’t have attempted to go inside any of the girls’ cabins.
I was starting to think these two shouldn’t be allowed to go near women or girls at all.
Neither of them answered my question, of course, but it did accomplish what I’d hoped. It switched their focus. They moved like lumbering trolls, too big on top of their legs to manage. That’s what they got for skipping leg day.
As they moved our way, Brennon mumbled, “Umm, Puck Dropper…”
“I got this, Bren.”
He gulped, eyes on the two creeps getting closer every second, “You sure?”
Only, the ambush I was expecting never came. Even though Mitchell looked ready to fight, it was Francis who slapped his hand against the other man’s chest, stopping him in place at the edge of the trees.
If I thought Toni was a spoiled princess, her brother’s smug voice made her seem like a paragon of humility, “We were just making our way to the dining hall.”
“On that path?”
Francis gave Brennon a cold smile and nothing more than a shrug. I was fucking over his shit, but Mitchell was my bigger focus.
“Mitchell, why aren’t you doing your damn job? Where are your kids right now?” I fumed.
He croaked and stammered, “They are, uh, um, they are in the dining hall. With Kevin.”
“You left your junior cabin leader alone with all fourteen of those boys?!” Mitchell should have been thanking his lucky stars for every oak and maple separating us right now, because I could have kicked the shit out of him, especially as he whined, “Just for a second…”
“Get fucking back there. NOW.”
Francis, clearly the one in charge of this nightmarish pair, replied on Greer’s behalf, “Like I said, that’s where we were headed.”
Gripping Mitchell by the shoulder, he spun the two of them, “Come on, Mitch. Let’s go.
” Like he was his fucking henchman or some shit.
Then, as if he didn’t already have my blood boiling, he shooed the two of us away, “Carry on, boys.” He paused, offering us that smug smile yet again and some parting words that were anything but comforting.