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“Because that’s what summer camp is all about.”

“Eating terrible food?” The kid paused in his steps to look up at me. His nose scrunched and his eyes narrowed like he didn’t believe me. But I wasn’t lying. The food here was terrible. It was also the best thing I’d ever eaten after a long day at the lake.

I peered over a shoulder, over to where the water was already calling my name, and was immediately reminded of that night. The one we didn’t talk about.

Alvy’s hands on my chest as he leaned up on his tiptoes, because even though he’d gotten taller since the summer prior, I still had a few inches on him. His mouth a breath away from mine so that all I had to do was drop my head a little. Him knowing I was too much of a chickenshit to do it and closing the distance for me…

It was perfect until it wasn’t. Because I wasn’t… him. I liked girls. Girls like Beatrice Winton, Jaclyn Bradshaw, and the pretty blonde counselor who’d greeted us when we got here—Cindy Something. Alvin knew that, and he’d kissed me anyway.

I shook the memories from my head, plastered on a fake smile, and nudged the kid forward with an elbow. “Yup. And getting bitten up by bugs, and sweating your ass off, and sleeping on hard mattresses.”

“That sounds terrible too,” he groaned.

“It is. But it’s also some of the most fun you’ll ever have in your life,” I assured him and nudged his ass forward again.

By the time we made it to the chow hall, everyone was already seated in their collective groups. The jocks, the stoners—you could tell because even though they weren’t high at the moment, they had a stoned look about them—the goths, who appeared as though it physically pained them to wear the neon-blue camp shirts, and then the kids who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere. The misfits. Surrounding Alvin as if the dramatic fucker called to their souls.

Cindy was sitting with her own group of slightly younger campers. She looked up from her tray, smiled, and waved me over.

I could feel my former best friend’s eyes on me. Don’t ask me how. It was a sixth sense. I could always feel it when he was watching. I ignored him, crossed the room, and dropped myself down beside Cindy while my stray camper went up to grab himself a barely edible sandwich from the serving counter. Cindy slid her tray in my direction. I grinned and swiped the apple off her plate.

“Thanks,” I told her before winking and taking an exaggerated bite. I could already see the blush forming on her cheeks.

I’d barely swallowed when something round and hard bounced off the side of my head and dropped onto the table in front of us. One of those camp bread rolls that looked as if they’d been here since the place first opened, tasted about the same, and felt like a rock.

I glanced up from the roll and scanned the room, trying to find whoever had thrown it. It didn’t take long to figure out. Alvin was staring right at me. He waved a finger in my direction—you know exactly which one—and immediately ducked when I threw the roll back at him.

The kid with the t-shirt tied around his head stood and yelled out, “Food fight!”

And then all fucking hell broke loose as everyone else seemed to jump up at once and started pelting each other with whatever was left on their trays. Creamed corn went splat against the chow hall walls, rock rolls pinging off tables, chairs, and bench seats, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches splitting in half midair and plopping face-down on campers’ heads.

I grabbed another roll when it bounced in front of me, lifted my arm, and spun around. Looking for Alvin but the slippery fucker had dipped out. I was just about to do the same myself, ignoring the fact that Cindy was screaming her ass off after one of those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches had splattered in her hair, when a bowl of creamed corn was poured over my head.

It trickled off the tip of my nose and slowly dripped onto the floor. I swiped the corn out of my eyes and spun around on my sneakers to find Alvin smirking at me. The fucker was covered in various condiments, and I was pretty sure there was a streak of ketchup on his precious coral shorts. He still didn’t appear to have a care in the world, though.

Why would he? Like always, this was the Alvin Carter show. And me? I was just a guest star, here to push his narrative along. Whatever the fuck it was for the day.

“Motherfucker.”

I growled and lunged for him at the same time Cindy shouted, “I’m calling Director Cooper!”

The entire room went silent, to the point I was pretty sure packets of mustard froze in the air. Sandwiches standing upright instead of toppling over on the tables and creamed corn defying gravity, like it could somehow scoop itself back up into the bowl it came out of.

“Narc!” Alvin shouted back.

I grabbed his arm when he went to chuck a roll in Cindy’s direction and spun his ass towards the door while turning a smile on her.

“Don’t do that,” I said, my best dimple on display. The one no one could resist. Not even moms. Especially moms. Excluding my mom. She’d grown immune to my shit over the years. But most other moms? Yeah, they ate it up. “It’s camp tradition. You gotta have a food fight at some point.”

Cindy crossed her arms over her chest, her phone already in her hand, but I could tell she was starting to soften.

I leaned forward, tilting her chin up with my thumb and forefinger and swiping some of the jelly off her cheek to seal the deal.

“Tell ya what…” I said, bringing that same finger to my mouth and licking it clean. “Why don’t we send everyone to the showers to get changed and settled for the night, and me and my co-counselor here will handle all this.”

She looked at me skeptically for a moment. “You’ll handle everything?”

“Everything,” I promised her. “We’ll have these floors so clean you could. Eat. Off. ʼEm.”