31. Thirty-One #2
“Turns out his cabin’s a bit different from the rest of ours. Turns out it really pays to have Jack under your daddy’s thumb, because that cabin is way bigger. And it has more windows,” Brennon explained, “So we snuck around the back and got a snapshot from all angles. There was no sign of him.”
My shoulders dropped, but only slightly.
“Fine. But we have to be careful. Jack said he was sending him home for a few days. but who knows how long before he’s back.”
Xavier’s grim frown returned, “Based on timing alone, I think we can safely assume he’s the one who actually took the McKnight kids.”
“Took them where?” I questioned.
“That’s what we need to find out. There are exactly two people we can ask. I have a plan,” his jaw flexed as he chewed on his thoughts, “but I hate to say it, I think we’re going to need some help.”
Brennon’s pierced eyebrow perked up. Clearly, he was just as out of the loop on Xav’s planning as I was.
“I don’t think Mitchell’s going to willingly follow any of us into the woods. But he might follow Cole.”
When we were campers, it was easy for the four of us to run off together after meals or skip out on programs to hang out.
Now, we all have responsibilities and places to be.
Working in the office, Brennon had the most freedom, but even he was busy.
With the end of the summer coming up, he had final paycheques, bus-pick ups, and even next summer’s registration to manage.
With the summer coming to a close, the Swim Elites, and even a handful of my younger campers, had final exams coming up.
There were drills to practice and tests they had to pass if they wanted to earn their swim levels.
A special examiner was even coming up from Barrett Hills in two days’ time to administer the highest level of testing for some of the seniors.
They would be put through a series of scenarios, including fake rescues, where they would have to practice many of the lifesaving techniques I’d spent the summer teaching them.
I remembered my own exams well, and still had to recertify every two years, so I knew many of them were stressing out.
Particularly about their timed swims. One girl, Kelly, had even taken to tracking me down during meals, her lifeguard text in hand so she could pin me down with questions about what the exam might entail.
So, after breakfast, it was straight back to the docks for me.
It was the same in other program areas, too.
The Paddle Sports heads had canoeing, kayaking, and sailing exams to oversee, too.
Only the Creative and Sports Elites got away with no formal exams. Their tests would come later, when they returned home and were subjected to auditions, try-outs, and other hardcore shit that came along with their particular areas of focus.
All at the hands of their often hyper-intense parents, breathing down their necks and reliving their own glory years via their children.
My own childhood might have been horrific, but that was one type of horror I hadn’t faced.
It occurred to us as we walked to breakfast, that we weren’t just going to be able to talk to Cole. Given his refusal to speak to Brennon the other day, the three of us were going to have to ambush him.
Which we did, at the dining hall’s back door.
When our programs ended, both Xav and I sprinted to the office.
Brennon met us at the door, and we watched and waited, tailing him until he went into the kitchen.
Cole and Abbi often spoke with Chef Brad and his team about surprise snacks or camper birthdays.
We waited and sprang on him the second he exited.
Cole was nearly stronger than the three of us put together, and he tried hard to shake us off, muttering curses the entire time until he finally succeeded in dislodging us all.
“What the fuck?!”
“You wouldn’t talk to me! And we need your help!” Brennon attested.
“Of course I wouldn’t. You three just attacked me!”
“Cole!” Xavier seethed, “Shut the fuck up and listen. Now.”
Brown eyes flashing nervously from side to side, Cole muttered, “Not here,” before leading us away from the building, just like in the good old days.
He surveyed the woods around the Throw to ensure we were alone, and only once he seemed reassured did his shoulders drop.
“Is this about Mitchell, because he’s gone for an extended day off. Jack said he won’t be back until tomorrow and camp will be almost over by then. He won’t have a chance to-”
“Shut up,” Xavi cut in.
“Yes, it is about Mitchell, but not just him, it’s about Stephanie and Francis, too,” Brennon explained.
“I thought you didn’t believe this conspiracy shit?” Cole looked at Brennon, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I didn’t, until-”
Xavi’s patience was clearly wearing thin, so he grabbed the neck of my t-shirt and pulled it down revealing the horrific word carved into my chest. He reeled back, eyebrows raised as he pointed right at me.
“Wha-..what..what the-”
It took him a few attempts to get the words out before he finally shouted, “What the fuck?!”
An accusatory gaze directed successively at both Brennon and Xav, “Did you freaks do this to her?! Is this some sort of kink shit?!”
“Are you fucking serious?!” Brennon snarled, “You think we did this?!”
Cole stopped, looking at Bren, then at me, his eyes narrowing in over my scar, currently hidden under the crew neck t-shirt I was wearing. His lip curled, “Well, if you didn’t do it, she probably did it to herself. For attention.”
I gasped. I knew Cole hated me, but was the boy I knew honestly so far gone that he thought I was capable of doing this myself, of scarring myself permanently all for the sake of attention?
He wasn’t done tossing out horrifying statements, and what he said next, that was the fucking kill shot.
“It’s just like her, it’s probably why she disappeared all those years ago, she liked all the press coverage. I almost regret spilling your whereabouts to my dad.”
His dad. Carl Michaels. Foreman for Barrett Holdings. Worked for my father for a decade. That Carl Michaels.
I was hearing the world through earmuffs, Brennon’s muffled voice shouting, “You did WHAT?!”