Page 7

Director Cooper cleared her throat. “They can be challenging, I’m sure, for someone of your… nature.”

“I gathered that from the war paint, Madam Biggo⁠—”

“We have this handled, Director Cooper,” Darius quickly interrupted.

“I see.” Director Cooper motioned for us to turn, and we followed her lead.

The rec room stood behind the mess hall. As we crossed camp, I felt every familiar landmark tugging at some buried part of my stupid soul.

The flagpole where Darius had broken his wrist trying to show off to Beatrice Winton, the infirmary where I’d lied about falling because admitting three boys had shoved me down the hill somehow felt worse and more like I was a bitch, and the row of trees near the lake where Darius used to wait for me after lights-out…

A memory slipped loose again. His fingers threaded through mine in the dark. His voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t tell anybody about this, Alvy…”

I stopped walking. Darius took two more steps before he noticed I was completely dead still.

He turned around but it wasn’t the little kid version who called me my sweet nickname anymore. It was the stoic man he’d become now that he was all grown up. “Alvin? Are you coming?”

Director Cooper looked fussy as well, but my hand had dropped so her view was of my thigh for a hot minute.

I forced my feet forward. “Just admiring the forestry,” I said. “Nature. Majestic. Full of bugs and all the yummy repressed memories of my traumatic childhood, of course.”

Darius’s face tightened and Director Cooper pretended not to hear. Human beings deserved awards for the things they ignored in public.

Inside the rec hall, fifty teenagers sat scattered across folding chairs arranged in a crooked circle. All talking over each other and bitching about the heat. Cliques were already forming, everyone from the jocks to the dorks in their predictable positions.

A portable fan rattled in the corner, blowing warm air around the room while doing little to help the July scorcher, and Director Cooper clapped her hands together, as if that shit could be heard over video. “Everyone, these are your new cabin leaders, Mr. Carter and Mr. D’Angelo.”

A girl with purple braids raised her hand, and Director Cooper pointed at her through the screen.

“My daddy said they’re criminals.”

The room erupted into murmurs and laughter and various side commentary about whether my co-counselor and I had spent time in prison or not.

Darius closed his eyes. I placed a hand over my heart. “Allegedly, sweetheart,” I corrected the girl.

“They were sentenced,” another boy said.

“Sentenced to us,” someone else added.

“That sounds worse for them,” the girl with purple braids continued.

She had a point. Poor us.

Director Cooper gave a look that clearly said they’re yours now, then made an excuse to hang up the weird video-conferencing.

Fifty faces stared in our direction as the call went dead. It was like a creepy horror movie with more glares and lesser-dressed actors.

Darius set his clipboard on a folding table. “Okay. Let’s start with names.”

A groan rolled through the group.

He ignored it. “We’ll go around the circle. Name, age, and one thing you want to get out of camp.”

A tall boy in the back raised his hand without waiting.

Darius nodded.