Emma tromped downstairs, still in her pajamas, and through the formal foyer. The marble was cold beneath her bare feet. On the kitchen island was the usual note from her mother:Good morning, sleepyhead! Fruit, yogurt, and eggs in the fridge. Have fun at camp!
She was fifteen, heading into her junior year. And yet, aside from a summer leadership program at George Washington University at the end of August, Camp Candlewood was about the only thing she had going on. The internship had been her father’s idea. He was a GW alum, and the fact that his daughter had beat out thousands of applicants from some of the best schools in the country had tickled him greatly. How many times had she heard him mention it to friends and neighbors since the acceptance letter had come in the mail? At first it was sweet. Just stealing her father’s attention had been nice. But it was starting to wear on her. And she was beginning to have doubts. How much fun could it be to attend seminars and debates for a whole week in August? At least the camp job would be enjoyable.
When she was younger, she’d been a camper at the communityclubhouse herself. It was where she learned to swim, sail, and play tennis. Now she’d be working there teaching neighborhood kids to do the same.
Emma’s position was as a counselor in training, or CIT, which meant she would be doing a lot of the gopher jobs. Craft prep. Walking a kid from the lake to the bathrooms. Lining up the kayaks and helping kids get their life vests on and off. Having been a camper herself, she already knew the ins and outs. And she loved working with little kids. She just hoped she wasn’t assigned to Amanda Hastings’s group.
She arrived at the clubhouse at 8:45, freshly showered and with her lunch packed. Already most of the other CITs were gathered around the main room. She scanned the area. Alicia came bounding over. “Hey, did you get my text?”
Like Emma, Alicia was in honors classes and did well in school. Also, like Emma, she wasn’t part of the cool crowd. But she was sarcastic and funny and had a thing for Adam Levine. “No, sorry. I was running late.”
“That’s cool. I was wondering if you want to swim after work.”
Which meant Emma’s house. “Sure. My parents won’t be home, though.”
Alicia’s parents were still of the mind that an adult needed to be around at all times if they went down to the lake. Emma’s father shared the same concern, but the thing was he was never around. So he asked that she text before she swam and immediately after. But since he was always in a meeting of some kind, it was another one of his useless rules.
“We can bring our towels down to the dock and do pedis.” Emma glanced down at her freakishly pale feet and bare nails. “I forgot to do mine.”
Alicia rolled her eyes. “Oh look, the princess has arrived.”
Emma glanced up in time to see Amanda Hastings breeze into the rec room. The boys playing Ping-Pong paused. She was wearing the shortest white shorts, and already her skin was a golden bronze. Emma groaned. She couldn’t see from there, but she was sure Amanda’s toenails were freshly painted. Probably Kiss My A’s red.
“Who wears white shorts to camp?” Alicia said.
A handful of girls surrounded Amanda, and they squawked together.
“She can afford to. We’re the ones who do the dirty work. I pray I’m not assigned to her.”
“Yeah, me too. That’d be a summer killer.”
The office door opened and the camp director, Bob Kline, came out. He was a textbook camp director, with a whistle around his neck and his camp hat pulled down over his eyes. Most of the kids had nicknamed him Smokey the Bear.
Bob called everyone in. It was the usual rigmarole of rules, expectations, and safety. Alicia and Emma were not in the same group, but neither were they with Amanda Hastings. Her two CITs were Brandon Fisher and Alex Cummings. Both cute sophomores looked like they’d won the lottery when their names were called out. Alicia whispered, “They think they’re lucky. But she will treat them like slaves.”
They were about to break up into their groups to head down to the lake for a kayak test when the screen door slapped shut. Emma looked up. Sully McMahon stood in the doorway.
“What’s he doing here?”
Like Alicia, Sully didn’t live in the private neighborhood or belong to the Club. Unlike Alicia, as far as Emma knew, he didn’t have any connections to the Club who would’ve sponsored him for the summer position. Unless…
Emma watched Amanda pop up off the bench and wave. “Sully! Over here.”
But Bob Kline beat her to it. “Mr. McMahon?” he barked. “How nice of you to join us.”
To Emma’s surprise Sully went right up to Bob Kline. “Sorry, Mr. Kline. I got behind a bus and was stuck in traffic.”
Bob Kline didn’t want to hear it. “Then you need to get up earlier. If you’re late again, don’t bother coming in.”
Emma watched as Sully stood toe-to-toe with the camp director. “It won’t happen again,” he said. Emma stared straight ahead as Sully ducked past her. If he noticed her or recognized her from the dock the day before, he didn’t show it.
Behind her, Emma heard Amanda whisper to Sully. “Bob’s a douchebag. Don’t let him bother you.”
“Nah, I was late.”
They spent the morning doing CPR training and reviewing water safety in small groups. For the most part it was focused work, and Emma had to pay attention. But she stole occasional glances across the beach to Sully’s group. Sully had been assigned to a senior, Tucker Owens. Tucker was a football player at school and, like Amanda, popular. The two seemed to like each other. The other CIT in that group was Brad Adams. Brad was shy and quiet, and not at all outdoorsy. His freckled skin was untouched by the sun, and he ate lunch alone at a picnic table in the shade with his book. “Poor Brad,” Alicia said, as they finished their sandwiches. They were sitting on an overturned kayak by the grass. “I wouldn’t want to be in that group.”
“Sully seems nice enough,” Emma allowed. She tore off a piece of bread crust and tossed it to a little sparrow who hovered nearby.
