10 Weeks (19 page)

I’m safe.

I knew when I hit send that I should have told him I
couldn’t deal
. That he shouldn’t keep writing me, but feeling needed…wanted… I crave it and I hate it all at once. Nate’s become my replacement drug, and the sooner he figures that out and runs, the better. I just gave him a head start by taking off early.

This is why getting involved with people who might mean something doesn’t work. They haunt and follow you even when they’re a thousand miles away.

Chapter Thirty

I’m not in the mood for a phone call from my brother. He’s perpetually optimistic, and can’t figure out why I have such a bad attitude about life—his words, not mine.

It’s not my attitude that sucks, I always tell him, it’s my life.

I usually get the eye roll that I can totally feel, even over the phone.

This time he doesn’t even wait for me to say hello. “I was just at your apartment, where I met a very nice black man who is apparently not just your dance partner, as you would have me believe, but someone who knows you well enough to have a key to your apartment. Since I’m the only person you’ve ever let have a key to your apartment, and I had to bribe you to get it, and Nate has one, I’m thinking he’s someone important in your life.”

“Austin, I really don’t need—”

“Nice try, but I’m not finished.” He doesn’t even pause. “He said you were supposed to meet him over a week ago, never showed, and he hasn’t seen your car since. I don’t know where you are, and that, my little sister, is not acceptable.” He lets out a huff, his gay-boy specialty, and waits for my explanation.

“I’m not telling you where I am without a promise of silence.” I keep my voice quiet enough that I might get some sympathy instead of another lecture that’ll be the equivalent of an Austin bitch-slap—his words, not mine.

“So. This is serious.”

“Do you promise you won’t tell?” I ask.

“Fine. I promise. But that Nate is tasty, Sam.”

“I don’t want to talk about Nate!” I take a breath after shrieking into the phone, which I did not totally intend on doing.

“Did he do someone else? Because he doesn’t seem like the type.” I can picture Austin now, shaking his head at me.

“No.” Austin won’t get it. I don’t totally get it. Nate is pretty exceptional in every way.

“
You
did?
” Now his eyes would be widened.

“No.”

“I’m at a loss, Sam.”

“I’m at camp.”

“Wait.” He snorts. “That place you called a smelly shithole?”

“That’s the one. I…” But I can’t even tell my brother what’s going on. We sit on opposite ends of the line in silence.

“You ran.” His voice isn’t accusatory, it’s sad. That makes it ten million times worse.

“Look. I’m a counselor here, and we’re actually not sup
posed to use our phones during…well…
when we’re on duty, so…” I need off the phone.

He huffs again. “Sam. I do not appreciate being sloughed off. You never care about rules.”

“Please don’t tell Nate, okay?”

“You need space, huh?” he asks.

“Lots of it.”

“Fine. I won’t tell him for now. But Sam… Don’t let him go unless you really need away. I actually like this one. I never like them. Ever. And I
like
this one.” Austin will be wearing a pouty face to make sure I know he’s serious, but still loves me.

I could definitely do worse as far as siblings go.

“Thanks, Austin. We’ll chat soon.”

He makes a ridiculous kissing noise before hanging up. We never say goodbye. I love my brother to pieces because he’s there, but doesn’t give me too much shit about being me.

It’s my night “on” and Ray, who’s the other girl sleeping in bunk
nine, has the night off. The fif
teen-year-olds are all mine. The fact that they take all the cell ph
ones away from these camper
s is just cruel. They’re playing some version of a “this is what will happen in your life” game on a sheet of paper while I scroll through emails on my phone, and try to dissolve into the corner.

I’ve been typing up an email to Mable on when I’ll be back to teach dance and why I disappeared, since I left, but I haven’t found the words yet. It’s starting to suck knowing how angry and hurt she might be. Or maybe she’ll just drop me, and I’m worrying about nothing. The thought of disappointing her makes me sick to my stomach.

After ten minutes of tinking with the same letter, I finally hit send, knowing I probably sealed my fate with her when I took off a couple weeks ago.

“I didn’t think we were supposed to have cell phones.” Jordin scowls over the paper. Why do
I have to be stuck with the fif
teen-year-olds? They know everything. Jordin’s worse because she’s the know-it-all goodie-goodie of the group.

“Tell you what.” I sit up in bed. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.” Then I wink.

“Nice try.” Savannah, a red haired girl frowns. “They’ve confiscated ours. Remember?”

Right.

“I’m a counselor. Having my phone is one of my privileges.” I sit back again, but all eyes are on me now, and the room is silent.

“What the fuc… heck do you want?” I’m just out of patience tonight. It’s too damn hot to think.

“Maybe one night with our phones?” Savannah’s face pulls into a smirk.

I would have died of happiness if a counselor had done that for me.

Ray won’t be back for hours. Her boyfriend lives in this dump town, and my guess is she’ll show up just before breakfast.

“Okay.” I stand up. “I’m about to perform a mission on behalf of you girls and your friends and boyfriends you’ve left at home. This is what I want in return.”

The room is silent.

“You will forever remember that your camp counselor, Sam, was the best counselor you ever had.” I set my hands on my hips as they continue to stare. “And you will never, ever, give me any shit or tell your parents that I swear. Got it?”

Jordin frowns. “All you do is sit in the corner.”

“So. No one wants their phones.” I start to sit back down.

“No
,
no
,
no!” Savannah screeches. “You’re the best ever!”

The girls laugh, and then beg, and do the big
puppy
-eyes thing at me.

“Give me a few.” I step out of the cabin and toward the main office.
Irene
would fire me over this for sure. The girls are allowed phone privileges for a couple of hours on Sunday. I suspect that they spend most of that time exchanging numbers and texting each other, but whatever.

My mission is surprisingly easy because I
borrowed
Jody’s keys
while she was in a huffy argument with loser safety-Jeff
,
and the phones are separated
into boxes
by cabin in the
main
office.

I pull out the box for cabin nine, and each girl has a small bag with their electronics. Perfect.

I’m greeted at the door with cheers, and a promise that no word of this will get out.

Paloma’s the last girl up. The last phone out. And I feel like total shit because I had no idea that she was in my cabin
when I called her out on smoking the first night
.

Chapter Thirty-one

Ten to twelve year-olds trying to swing their hips to do the sexy salsa is always one of my high points of hilarity
at camp
.

I teach cheerleading most days, but we stopped early because they wanted to know what kind of dancing I do when I’m not here.

What the girls don’t realize as their hips move in wonky motions from side to side is that so often, less is more. Not in many things in life, but defin
itely in dancing. You twist your waist and slide
your hips just enough to catch eyes. Then they watch you, waiting for your body to swing that motion again. It’s the subtle part of the dance that really attracts attention.

Everyone claps at the fancy stuff, but if you can keep the eyes on you when you’re just in the middle of a line, that’s a big deal.

“Sam?” One of the girls touches my arm. “Can you demonstrate again?”

Fifteen pairs of eager eyes are on me. The younger girls always want me to dance the dances again and again. I should probably take it as a compliment.

I sigh. “Yeah. Sure.”

As much as I’ve been teaching, I haven’t just danced for me—at least not much.

I love dancing. Love. But when I do something I love, it opens me up to feel thin
gs I really don’t want to feel.

Nate’s breath on my shoulder as I do the line for the girls again. His hand low on my waist as I do the turn at the end. His dark brown e
yes and skin so dark that I feel
like a porcelain doll in h
is arms, no matter how tan I am
.

How tan I w
as.

It’s crucial that I remember this all in the past tense, because no matter what Nate thinks he wants, he doesn’t actually want me. Not really.

I continue my circle of s
alsa steps, and it’s like he’s here with me, only he’s not, because I left him back in Boston.

Nate should have been a totally safe person for me to hang out with after rehearsals. Guys who are as good at ballroom dancing as Nate are gay—at least that was my experience up to that point. He was supposed to be totally safe for someone who had no intention of dating, much less ever settling down.

The f
irst time he kissed me, I was
in
such
shock that I didn’t push him away. I’d already let him in on way too much for us to be physical, too.

But that kiss curled my toes and wrapped my body around his and he may have been an incredible mover on the dance floor, but nothing compared to how he was in bed…

I’m not dancing anymore, and no one’s talking. When did that happen?

“Sam. The lunch bell rang. Are we excused?”

“Of course,
” I recover. Sort of. “You don’t need me. Lunch is lunch. Go eat.” I’m rambling like an idiot because I’m feeling all swimmy inside over a memory…

As far as I can tell there’s no way to get this guy out of my head. I’m so fucked.

I swear mornings at camp come earlier than morning anywhere else—even on the days when I’m allowed to sleep in.

My phone buzzes, and I reach over and answer without thinking.

“Hello?”

“Sam. Thank god.”
Nate
. “I’ve been worried. Please let me talk, I…”

“I didn’t mean to answer.” God, I’m horrible. He should know I’m horrible.

“Your brother stopped by, and he didn’t know you were gone. I called your parents, and I—”

I sit up in bed, heart hammering. My parents don’t meet the people I know. Not ever. We don’t talk. “You called my
parents
?”

“I guess I messed up, Sam. I know I did. And I know you better than you think I do.” His voice is nothing but the smooth calm I’m used to from him, and my anger starts to dissolve into helplessness, which will turn back into anger after I get frustrated about feeling helpless. “But it’s how I feel, and I wanted you to know, and I didn’t want that to scare you away. I just wanted honesty between us.”

“You don’t want honesty, Nate.” If he knew me. Really knew me. We’d have never gotten to the point where he said he loved me. Never.

“I do.”

“No. You don’t. I used to sell meth to my cheerleading friends in high school until I got pregnant and dropped out. I sold No Doz at camp goodie-two-shoes last year as a
counselor
. I’m a mess. I’m the bad girl no one wants around.
I don’t do relationships, Nate. I just can’t. It’s not what I want.”

Silence fills the line between us, and I want him to hang up, but I also want him to talk me out of whatever mixed up shittiness is tearing at my insides.

“Am I hard to be with?”

His question is not what I expected. I can feel his words tearing down the walls I’ve built up to keep him away. “No.”

“Because you were my friend, and then we got to be more, and I loved t
hat…
You.” His voice is still so warm and soft. Low without being weirdly deep.

“Please don’t use that word. Not with me.” Tears are streaming down my face, and I’m not even sure why.

“Can we meet up? Can I see you?”

“You don’t want to see me.” I hang up before his pleading voice convinces me to do something really stupid. Like tell him where I am.

It’s too hot for activities. To me it’s been too hot for activities since I got here, but now it’s official. I’m in my silver bikini resting on a lounge chair near the lake. I don’t have lifeguard training, so I figure I pretty much have the day off.