Taming Chloe Summers (Grover Beach Team #7) (26 page)

The trouble with her brilliant plan is that I don’t have that time. My knees tip to the sides, and I cross my arms over my chest. “In a couple of days, I’ll be in Europe.”

Scratching her brow, she deliberates. “Yeah, that could make things a little difficult.”

When the door rattles with a knock, my head jerks around, my heart pounding. I don’t know why I hope it’s Justin outside, come to tell me that it’s all right and he’s forgiven me. Because that will never happen. A glance at my watch makes it clear that it can only be the theater girls reminding me that practice should have started five minutes ago.

Pushing a dreary sigh through my nose, I drag myself off the bed and open the door. A twinge zooms through me when there’s no kid on the porch, though. Instead, Greyson’s accusing gaze fixes on me. “Is it true?” he demands. “You’re leaving?”

Great. He must have run into Justin.

Behind him, down on the pebbled space between the cabins, the girls are gathering for the first lesson this morning. They all look up at me with questioning faces as I peek over Grey’s shoulder.

The air is thick, the sky is dark, and in the distance rolls a lonesome boom of thunder. It won’t be too long now until the first raindrops. Moving my gaze back to Greyson, I tell him, “Yes. It’s true.” Then I draw in a deep breath and call the girls up onto the porch. I might as well tell everyone the truth right now. One by one, they file in under the roof. Some sit down on the porch swing, the others stand by the railing and wait for my news.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I begin, leaning against the doorjamb with my back, hands clasped in front of my stomach. “Today is my last day at camp.”

Shocked gasps travel through the crowd, chins smacking downward. Addison jumps up from the swing, her face pale and eyes wide. “For heaven’s sake, why?”

“Before camp—”

“Because a huge opportunity has come up for Chloe,” Julie cuts me off, startling me as she steps forward. “You all know how important acting is for her.” Everybody nods warily. “So she got this amazing offer to attend one of the top drama schools in England. A dream come true for every aspiring actor.”

The wariness in the girls’ eyes changes to utter awe. Something I don’t feel I deserve, but with Julie’s way of coating the truth—that I’m actually a deserter—the expected wave of scorn doesn’t materialize. “The bummer is,” she continues, “that Chloe has to get to London this week. Which means she’s leaving us today.”

“Justin told the story a little differently,” Greyson whispers in my ear.

“And everything he told you is true,” I confess quietly, heaving a deep sigh.

His brows knit together with suspicion. For some reason, he looks like he can’t decide whether to shout at me or just accept it with a shrug. I don’t blame him for thinking the worst of me. When his mouth shifts to one side and he chews on his bottom lip, his glare prickles on my skin. Then his gaze switches to Julie, who’s still doing what she can to put my escape in the best possible light. Perhaps it’s her attitude that finally sways him to cool acceptance, and he says, “It’s a shame you have to go.”

I think so, too.

“But what’s going to happen with our play?” Kristina demands, the corners of her mouth pointing down. “Who’s going to help us finish it?”

“Julie will,” I blurt out, shrugging when the Owl jerks around to me. “I’ll give her a crash course in being a director before lunch. You’ll do great with her in charge.” With a tiny, hopeful smile, I prompt her to agree.

A snort escapes her, but she can’t pull off the unhappy act for long. Moments later, her mouth stretches into a grin as she turns back to the kids. “What do you say? Shall we try it?”

The girls cast me a final, sad look before they start cheering for their new director. Some Owls high-five her. I expel a relieved breath. That’s one disaster averted.

*

I’m not hungry at all as Julie and I walk around the lake, heading for the dining hall at noon. It’ll be our last lunch together. A small part of me hopes Justin will be there and we can talk again. But the bigger part of me is afraid he’s going to avoid me all day until I’m gone.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Julie says, stepping around a puddle on the path. When the rain started two hours ago, we had to relocate the practice of
Romeo & Juliet
onto the Tigers’ porch and inside the cabin. Although it was fairly crowded there, the entire morning was wrapped in a nostalgic coziness that’s still floating around me.

I pull the hood of my sweatshirt lower down my forehead to keep the rain off my face and answer quietly, “You’re a great director.” Without a doubt, the kids will shine in the final performance at the end of summer.

“Are you going to write me when you’re in London?”

Her request surprises me a little. “You mean emails?”

“Yes. I’d love to hear how you’re doing over there.”

“I can do that.” And what’s more, it would be nice to keep in touch with the Owl after everything we’ve been through together. She’s become a good friend to me these past couple of weeks. “Perhaps we can meet for lunch when I’m back next summer.”

Julie seems delighted at the idea, and the prospect makes me wish for the coming year to go by really fast.

We arrive at the boys’ campsite a few minutes later, and my heart starts pounding awfully fast when I catch a glimpse of Justin following Greyson into the dining hall. He doesn’t wait for us by the door.

“They didn’t see us is all,” Julie says, trying to cheer me up when she notices my shoulders slumping, “or they would’ve waited.”

We join them at our table, and I sit down quietly. Justin doesn’t look up. He grabs his fork as Grey’s little brother dishes out roast pork for everyone, and starts picking at the veggies. His stomach must be on strike, because apart from one piece of chopped carrot, he doesn’t eat anything in the following three minutes.

Our table is wrapped in oppressing silence. Julie and Greyson seem to be waiting for us to start a conversation, but for the life of me, I don’t know what to say. Eyes still on his plate, Justin shoves another carrot into his mouth and chews with what looks like great effort. After he swallows, his gaze moves to Julie under the strands of his tousled hair. “I told Cybil what’s going on,” he informs her—not me. When Julie lifts her head, he continues, “She wasn’t happy, but she said the three of us can keep the camp running. She’ll try to send us a replacement counselor as soon as possible. It might take a few days, though.”

“Oh, that’s great news.” The words escape me before I can bite my tongue.

He pauses a beat, then his sinister glare skates to me. “Yeah.”

An Arctic cold slithers down my spine. I put down my knife and fork and clasp the napkin between my fingers. “Look, I’m really sorry—”

“For what?” he snaps at me. “For running off? For lying? Or for completely misleading me last night?”

His words, like a glowing lance through my heart, make me cringe and close my mouth.

“Justin,” Julie says, trying to placate him with her soft voice, “don’t you think you’re being a little unfair now?”

“Unfair?
Me
?” He barks an outraged laugh that draws the attention of some boys at the next table to us. He quickly realizes his slip and lowers his tone. The hiss that comes next is no less lethal, though. “How can you two sit here and side with her when she doesn’t give a flying shit about what happens to the rest of us?” His knuckles whiten from his hard grip around the fork.

“The flight is booked and paid, and it sure isn’t cheap to fly from the U.S. to Europe. She’d be a fool not to go now,” Julie defends me when I can’t find the words to defend myself.

“Oh, please! Are you really that naïve?” He cuts a glance to the ceiling. “Her father’s a lawyer. He pays for everything in her life. I’m sure booking a different flight wouldn’t bankrupt him.”

With a scolding edge to her voice, Julie growls, “Justin,” but she can’t say more, because Greyson reaches for her hand across the table, silencing her with just a single, gentle touch. Then he places a hand on Justin’s shoulder, casting him a compassionate look. “Dude, let it go. It’s too late.”

Like a bull in an arena, Justin’s practically blowing steam through his nose. His glance skates back and forth between us. Finally, he tosses his fork onto his plate and pushes to his feet. The chair scrapes angrily backward across the floor and tips over. Not bothering to pick it up, he stomps out of the dining hall, the double door swinging in his wake.

When Julie and Greyson helplessly grimace at me, I bite my lip and fight to keep a straight face, but the tears burning behind my eyes are threatening to spill over. Suddenly, the whole place feels way too crowded. My gaze moves back to the now-still doors. It’s already late, anyway. Time to get ready to leave.

“Excuse me,” I croak, drop the crumpled napkin on the table, and rise. Everyone’s eyes are following me as I make an exit.

Another downpour started during lunch, forcing me to jog around the lake with my hood pulled up. Mud splashes everywhere as I step in newly formed puddles, quickly soaking my socks inside my sneakers. Our campsite is still quiet and vacated, only the drumming of the rain on leaves welcoming me back. Reaching the cabins, I slow down, because the wooden stairs are slippery. On the porch, I pull down my hood, but just when my hand fists around the doorknob, Justin’s cold voice behind me makes me freeze as he says my name.

I spin around and find him walking into the camp from the direction of the office. He didn’t bother to bring an umbrella, a rain jacket, or even just pull up the hood of his black sweatshirt. His face in hard lines, he stops at the bottom of the stairs and tosses a small, black device up to me. “Brinna will want her phone back.”

I catch it, watching with horror as he turns around, set to walk away. “Justin!” I cry out. “Please, wait!” But my shout hits his back. Just short of panicking, because this might be the last time we have a chance to talk, I dash down the stairs after him, grabbing a fistful of his sleeve to stop him and spin him around.

Raindrops are coating his face. They slip from his lashes at every blink, the butterscotch eyes behind his soaked strands scrutinizing me with bitter animosity. In his frosty look, he makes it clear that he has no intention to speak to me ever again.

My throat clogs with a painful lump and turns my voice into a hoarse whisper when I plead, “Can’t we even say goodbye?”

For the length of a breath, he stares at me with unchanged hostility. Then he carefully detaches his arm from my grip, turns around, and walks away.

My knees wobble, and my chest constricts. What I really want to do now is drop to the ground and cry. Let go of all the hurt inside. Rip my heart out and toss it into the woods if it’ll help ease the pain. But there’s one person stopping me. Holding up a red umbrella for shelter, Brinna stands beside the path coming down from the camp entrance and looks at me with sad understanding. The moment our gazes meet, she rushes toward me, enclosing me in a one-armed hug. “Oh, sweetie! What can I do to make you feel better?”

My hands digging into her raincoat and forehead resting on her shoulder, I sob. “Take me home.”

“Sure. Let’s get your things and leave.” Covering us both with her umbrella, she loops her arm through mine and walks with me up the stair to the Squirrel cabin. My suitcase is packed and waiting, including the bed sheets this time.

As I wheel it outside, Greyson appears at the door and surprises me by taking it out of my hand and carrying it down the stairs for me. I follow him and don’t object when he swallows me whole in a heartfelt embrace. “Thanks,” I croak into his ear.

“Sure.” He puts me down and casts me a smile. “Good luck in England!”

The next one waiting in line to say goodbye is Julie, and she obviously brought the entire camp squad, too. Like pins in a bowling alley, they stand motionless in the pouring rain until, one by one, they come forward to wish me all the best at Guildhall. Some hug me, others, like Romeo Brian, just hold out their hands. It’s getting more and more difficult by the minute to keep a happy expression but, deeply touched by so much warmth, I do my best.

Addison is the last one to hug me, and when she says farewell, I whisper, “Good luck with Romeo.”

Grinning, she lets me go. I pivot to all the others and wave at them one final time. Then, after a deep breath, I grab the handle of my suitcase and head off with Brinna down the narrow path toward the exit.

Her Camaro is a single blue spot in an empty parking lot. Only Justin’s black motorcycle stands a little off to the side, looking lonely in the rain. My gaze fixed on that beast as we cross to Brinna’s car, I’m reminded of happier days here at camp.

“Are you ready?” Brin asks me after she’s stored my luggage in the trunk and slammed the top.

I twist, staring at the Camp Clover sign, under which no one appears to see me off. For minutes on end, I just stand there, rigid, and hope. Every swallow hurts like I’m swallowing acid. Rubbing the back of my hand over my nose, I finally nod at Brinna and slip into the car when she opens the door for me under the shelter of her umbrella.

She jogs around the hood and sinks down behind the steering wheel, tossing the folded umbrella into the backseat before she starts the engine. A warm gust blasts from the air vents, wafting my bangs out of my face like a hair dryer. I lean back, buckle myself in, then roll my head to the side and watch the camp sign disappear as we drive off.