His strong grip surprised her given he was so thin. In spite of his cold gaze, his skin was warm. He was taller than she expected, and she had to look up at him, which was nice. She towered over many of the boys in her class.
She couldn’t tell if his light brown hair was curly or messy. The wild style might look good on him if he smiled, but his lips pressed together so tightly she could barely see them.
He must be in pain.
Kat slipped her arm around his waist.
Brushing her hand away, he stared down his nose. “This was your fault, and I am capable of walking on my own.”
“I said I was sorry.”
Silence.
His I’m-better-than-you glare prickled. So not polite.
She’d tried to help after her mistake, but if he fell again, that would be on him this time. “Let’s go then.”
He limped.
“Thank you for helping my brother.” Color had returned to the girl’s face. She fell in step with Kat. “I’m Sophie von Strausser.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Kat Parsons.”
The boy made a face. “You’re named after an animal?”
“Kat with a K. It’s short for Katrina. But I wouldn’t mind being named after cats. I love animals.”
The boy rolled his eyes. A reaction she knew had nothing to do with his injury. As her grandmother would say, he had an attitude with a capital A.
“You’re American,” Sophie said in a pleasant singsong voice that belonged in a cartoon.
Kat smiled. “Well, this camp is in America.”
“Oh, yes. I forgot amid all the excitement.” Sophie grinned. “This is my brother Gee—”
“Gill.” His harsh glare traveled from Kat to his sister and sharpened along the way. “My name is Gill.”
The sooner Kat could leave Gill with those in charge at the camp’s office, the better, but Sophie seemed friendly. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine.” Sophie walked with a bounce to her step. Not quite skipping, more like a hop. “I’d be delighted to be your friend.”
Sophie was bright and cheery like a meadow of wildflowers, as pretty, too, but Kat wasn’t used to anyone wanting to be her friend. Well, except the animals at the farm.
“Sure. You can never have enough friends.”
“Who is your BFF?” Sophie asked.
“I, um, don’t have a best friend.” Kat left off that her closest friends had four legs and were covered with fur. Well, except the chickens and ducks. Only two feet and feathers for them.
Sophie hooked her arm with Kat’s. “Now you do.”
That was easy.
“I’m from Palouse.” Kat supposed BFFs should know something about each other besides their names. “It’s a small town in Eastern Washington. Where are you from?”
“Europe,” Gill answered.
Kat could relate to his want-to-be-anywhere-but-here look given her mood less than ten minutes ago, but he didn’t have to act like a jerk. Gill reminded her of the popular kids at school who looked down on everybody else unless they wanted something, but she knew better than to say anything.
