“Pick your favorite,” Courtney says. “My metaphorical money’s on number four.”
“They all look the same.”
The older woman in front of us turns around with a harsh glare. “Then you need your eyes checked.”
“I guess she has a favorite, too,” I mumble.
Someone blows a whistle and the toys are off! Their mechanical legs move so fast they become blurred. People clap and cheer and chant their favorite robot’s name. I pick out Astro and Brutus among them.
“Is this a daily event?” I ask.
“No, twice this week and twice next. If you offer the same activity every day, campers get bored.”
“Really? I do the same thing every day.”
She gazes at me, unblinking, but says nothing.
“Is the new guy going to join in?” the older woman asks. She’s attractive, maybe sixty, showing off toned arms and a face that has seen more than its fair share of sun.
“Which one would you like to race?” Courtney asks.
I hesitate before selecting the white T-Rex, prompting a smile from my escort. “I totally called it,” she says. “I bet you were a dinosaur fanatic as a kid. You should be helping Olivia. You probably had all the species memorized once upon a time.”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” I sound as surprised as I feel. I’d forgotten about my dinosaur phase until now. I tore through every book in the local library, as well as the school library, until my parents cut off what they deemed an unhealthy obsession. If I was going to have an intense interest in a subject, it had to have the potential to either make me wealthy or make them look good. A career as a paleontologist would do neither.
“If you want to go back to the Danger Zone, I’m sure Olivia wouldn’t mind adding a fellow scientist to the team,” Courtney says.
“Not right now, thanks.” I can’t afford to get too caught up in the camp activities. There’s only one reason I’m here, and unlike this robot race, everything is riding on my ability to claim victory.
Chapter Four
The lawyer is going to be the bane of my existence these next two weeks. I thought sticking close to him would be a good idea, but I’m not so sure I can handle two weeks of forced proximity with Charles Darwin Dickens IV. It’s like having a Ken doll amidst a dream house full of Weird Barbies; he doesn’t fit our aesthetic.
When he takes a break from activities to check email from his evil lair—I mean cabin—I seize the opportunity to complain to my friends, who are currently gathered at the lakeside picnic area for a snack break.
“Why did you even tell him about the available cabin?” Gloria asks, once I’ve word vomited my frustration.
I hate to admit my answer out loud. “Because deep down I wanted to stick it to the Prick. If he actually dares to show his face again, I can refund his money and send him packing.”
Gloria presses her lips together. “I can see why that would be satisfying.”
“And when he doesn’t show up, I get a little extra money. A win-win.”
“Except now you’ve let another fox in the henhouse,” Laura points out.
Ben strokes his white beard in solemn contemplation. “There is that.”
“I, for one, am glad he’s joined us,” says Angela. “New blood is reinvigorating for all of us.”
I peer at Angela. “It’s because you think he’s hot, isn’t it?”
“Honey, his hotness isn’t up for debate. Your new friend has elevated this camp from nerdo to nitro.”
I bristle. “He isn’t my friend.”
“He’s a rebel spy,” Adam chimes in.
Gloria frowns at the dark warlord. “Wait, aren’t we the rebels?”
