Reunion #21 Page 9

  The door banged shut in her wake, leaving Priya to stare at her friends bewilderedly. “You’d think she would have had enough of walking, between the whole nature walk this morning and the hike tomorrow.” She thought she’d never get used to Avery’s surly demeanor.

  From the corner of the room, Priya heard a stifled giggle. Its source was quickly located by Sloan’s makeshift spotlight, and Priya was surprised to see Joanna sitting up in bed, biting her lip guiltily. The girl was so quiet and spent so much time in Avery’s shadow that it was easy to forget that she was even in the room.

  The moment she realized that she’d attracted attention, Joanna clapped a hand over her mouth, as though she was sorry she’d dared to laugh out loud. Could it be that Avery had actually trained Joanna not to laugh? Priya knew the girl was bad news, but seriously.

  “Do you . . . want to take the quizzes with us?” Priya asked cautiously. Joanna may have lousy taste in friends, but she seemed nice enough when she was by herself. Besides, excluding her would just be plain rude, and the Lakeview girls were not rude.

  Nope, that’s Avery’s territory, Priya thought.

  For a moment the room was quiet, and Priya felt completely humiliated. Of course Joanna didn’t want to take the quizzes with them. Avery thought quizzes were lame, which meant that Joanna, by default, felt exactly the same way. She should have known better than to reach out and leave herself open and feeling foolish like this.

  But after a beat, Joanna cleared her throat. “Sure.” She coughed, then spoke more loudly. “Yeah, sure.” She sounded just as tentative as Priya had, and Priya realized that Joanna didn’t know how to act around the Lakeview girls any more than they knew how to act around her. “But, um, I’m a nine.”

  “Huh?” A nine? Was she speaking in code?

  “A nine. That’s my number. For numerology.” She smiled shyly and glanced in Sloan’s direction. “I love numerology.”

  Sloan grinned. “Then you’re in luck, my friend,” she said, flipping her book open and uncapping her turquoise gel pen.

  They hadn’t gotten much further than establishing Brynn as a Leo through and through before the door burst open again and Chelsea came charging in.

  “What’d I miss?” she asked, breathless. “No, wait—what did you miss?”

  “Okay, we give. Mainly ’cause we have no idea what you’re talking about,” Priya said, taking in Chelsea’s thick, wavy hair and thousand-watt smile with affection.

  “You missed . . . this!” She thrust her arm into the air. In her fist she clutched a silver spoon. “Me. Kicking Assassin butt. I got Connor’s spoon!”

  “No way!” Jenna said, springing out of bed and leaping up to do an impromptu victory dance with Chelsea in the middle of the room. “You rock! And meanwhile, how lucky are you that you got your crush as your target?”

  “He’s not my crush,” Chelsea said hotly.

  “Uh-huh,” Priya chimed in. “Then why is your face practically about to burst into flames?”

  “Well . . .” Chelsea admitted slowly. “There may have been some flirting.”

  “Some flirting?’” Natalie shrieked. The girls all shot her a warning look. Just because the counselors were in a meeting didn’t mean they wouldn’t hear them if everyone got too riled up. “I must hear about the flirting. I sense good gossip. Very good gossip. I want to know how you got the spoon,” she said, whispering now.

  Chelsea cast her eyes to the floor, but it was clear that she was dying to share the story of her triumph. “Well, since Justin is out of the game now, I thought he might be willing to work with me to distract Connor while I went through his stuff.”

  “You’ve never talked to Justin before in your life,” Priya pointed out, admiring Chelsea’s courage. Assassin had coaxed a competitive streak out of her. Or maybe just a flirtatious streak. Either way, it was working for her.

  Chelsea shrugged. “Whatever. I know he’s, like, addicted to soda. So I smuggled three cans of Coke from the cookout and brought them to him while everyone was on their way back to the tents. I explained the situation to him, and he agreed that if I came back to the tent with him, he’d distract the guys outside while I snuck in and looked around.”

  “What did he do to distract them?” Sloan asked.

  “He told them he’d lost his iPod in the grass and that he needed their help to find it.”

  “That’s brilliant,” Jenna said, her voice ringing with admiration.

  “I know!” Chelsea went on. “So I rushed into the tent while everyone was crawling around on the ground and poked around in Connor’s cubbies. He reads Sports Illustrated.”

  “Good to know,” Natalie pointed out. “Sporty. Check.”

  “And then, under the bed, jammed between the mattress and the bed frame . . . there it was! The spoon!” She sighed with satisfaction at the memory.

  “That’s all well and good,” Priya said, feeling a touch jealous that Chelsea was ahead in the game, “but what about the whole flirting thing? When did that happen?”

  “Well, when I came out of the bunk, the boys were all coming back in, and so Connor saw me—I didn’t have time to dodge, or hide, or anything. And for some reason, I was afraid to tell him—like, it would hurt his feelings or something. So I told him I was there to see him!”

  At this, the girls all squealed in unison.

  “And he said he was glad I came by, and then he walked me back to our tent and we talked the whole way. And for part of it he may have held my hand a little.” Chelsea couldn’t keep the gleam from her eye, even in the semi-dark.

  “So did you ever end up telling him the truth?” Priya asked.

  “I had to. I mean, I couldn’t just let him think he was still in the game when he wasn’t. And I wasn’t going to forfeit my little victory just to save his male pride,” Chelsea said. “But you know what? By the time I told him the truth, the game didn’t seem to matter anymore. I think we were both just happy that we got to meet each other through it.”

  “Awesome, Chels,” Jenna said, all revved up to hear about this latest development in the game. “So, you’ve gotta tell us—who’s your new target?”

  Chelsea’s mouth dropped open in indignation. “I will not tell you!” she retorted. “I’m ahead now. No way am I giving up my lead by oversharing with you guys. But—oh! Speaking of oversharing, I found out why Reed wasn’t at the cookout tonight.”

  “Why?” Natalie and Brynn asked at the same time. Natalie looked extra suspicious, Priya noted. Maybe she was wondering why Brynn was taking such an interest in Reed. Priya was kind of wondering that herself.

  “Well, it turns out he stepped in some poison ivy on the nature walk today, and he was too embarrassed to be seen with Calamine lotion all over his face.” She wrinkled her nose. “He does look kinda pathetic and pasty.”

  “But, I don’t understand—if he stepped in poison ivy, why would his face be rashy?” Natalie asked, confused.

  “I guess when you guys sat down and he took off his shoes, he rubbed the stuff from his feet, and then touched his face. I mean, I can’t say for sure. I wasn’t there. All I know is that his face looks like a helium balloon right now. I don’t blame him for feeling dumb.”

  “Wow,” Natalie said, sounding aghast.

  “Oh, don’t worry, Nat—it’s temporary,” Priya teased. “Besides, you like Reed for more than his looks, right?”

  Natalie looked worried. “Yeah. Of course. But still—his looks are nice, too.”

  The girls dissolved in giggles, and Priya turned back to Chelsea. “We’re glad you’re back. We were going to have a quiz-a-palooza while Anika, Josie, and Avery are out.”

  “Fab idea!” Chelsea said. “Do we know where Avery is?”

  “Nope,” Priya said. “But we do know where Joanna is. Right here! And she’s a nine. So she’s going to do the quizzes with us.”

  “Cool,” Chelsea said, sounding as though she truly meant it. She smiled at Joanna.“The more the merrier.”
>
  chapter SEVEN

  Quiet hour was one of the only times during the jam-packed Walla Walla daily schedule that the campers actually got a little, well . . . peace and quiet. Normally, Sarah preferred being outdoors and engaged in sports or some other activity, but ever since the Lakeview girls arrived at camp and the game of Assassin began, quiet hour had become one of Sarah’s favorite times of the day. It was the easiest time to keep tabs on her tentmates and to make sure that they weren’t getting any closer to learning her secret. It had become a routine: come back from lunch, flop down on her bunk, and pretend to read a book for forty-five minutes or so while silently keeping an eye on everyone else.

  Today, however, she came back from lunch to find a surprise waiting for her. Well, not exactly waiting for her, really. Not really waiting for anyone in particular, but rather, trying to get in and out of the tent for some surveillance work without being spotted by anyone else.

  It was Chelsea. And she was tossing Hailey’s bed like she was the tooth fairy looking for a recent deposit. The mattress was tilted up at an angle, and she was feverishly checking inside the springs of the bed frame.

  “What are you doing?” Sarah shrieked upon seeing Chelsea tearing through the tent like it was her living room. She knew, of course, what Chelsea was doing—or at least, she had a pretty good idea—but she sort of couldn’t help herself from exclaiming out loud.

  She’d been dreading this moment ever since Avery had first come up with the idea of playing Assassin. And she thought that she had planned for it by constantly lurking and generally being obsessive about knowing where everyone was at any given time. But trying to be all-knowing that way was exhausting. A girl was bound to slip up.

  That, plus, Chelsea was clearly extremely stealthy. No wonder she had slipped under Sarah’s radar.

  Chelsea jumped about ten feet in the air, then spun around, a guilty expression on her face. “Nothing,” she said quickly. After a moment, when it became clear that Sarah wasn’t buying that ruse, she went on. “Um, except that I lent a magazine to Hailey, and she told me to come back and get it if I wanted. She told me,” she repeated stubbornly, as if by saying it enough times it would suddenly be true.

  “Cool. Well, she should be back from lunch any second now, so, you know, you can just get it from her directly,” Sarah said, challenge in her voice.

  That is, if you weren’t really looking for something else.

  Chelsea bit her lip, looking flustered. “Right. Uh, maybe, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just get it from her after dinner.” She moved away from the bed and began to sidle cautiously toward the front door. Not that caution would help, Sarah thought. The cat was way out of the bag at this point.

  Please, Sarah thought. Unlike the Lakeview girls, Sarah had one very particular advantage: This wasn’t the first game of Assassin she’d been involved in. She knew the score.

  And right about now? According to her estimations? It was pretty clear that Chelsea’s new target was Hailey.

  “Well, okay, anyway,” Chelsea babbled, “I’m going to get going.”

  “Awesome,” Sarah said, smirking. “I’ll tell Hailey you stopped by.”

  “You don’t have to,” Chelsea mumbled. “Seriously—don’t worry about it.” She dashed from the tent without further ado.

  Once she was gone, the smile faded from Sarah’s lips. If Chelsea’s new target was Hailey, then that meant that Chelsea would be spending more time around the girls from Sarah’s tent—a lot more time. She’d be digging around and coming up with all sorts of stuff on Sarah and her new friends. She’d be knee-deep in their business. In their secrets.

  In Sarah’s secrets.

  That wasn’t going to work at all.

  Sarah folded her arms across her chest and regarded the room grimly. There was no way that she could possibly let Chelsea get closer to her or to any of her friends. She was going to have to do everything she could to make sure that Chelsea was booted from the game.

  And she was going to have to do it soon.

  Chelsea had been on edge ever since getting busted rooting around in Hailey’s tent by Sarah, of all people. She’d spent all of quiet hour gnawing on her fingernails and pretending to read the same page in J-14 magazine over and over again. She just couldn’t believe that Sarah was the one getting in her way and causing her grief. Okay, yes, Assassin was a game and they were all competing against one another, but the Sarah Chelsea had known at Lakeview wouldn’t have taken so much nasty pleasure in catching her red-handed. Chelsea knew there was no way that Sarah wouldn’t tell Hailey what she’d seen, and so it was up to Chelsea to make a move for Hailey’s spoon as soon as she possibly could.

  The question was, how?

  She turned different ideas over in her head on her way to dinner, and rejected each one in turn. Stage a raid so that I can rummage through Hailey’s stuff while everyone else is occupied? No, we got in trouble last time we had a raid. Fake a fever so that I can stay behind while everyone else is on the Outdoor Adventure Weekend and ransack the place then? Nah, I’d probably get stuck in the infirmary, and then what? I’d miss the weekend and I still wouldn’t be any closer to getting Hailey’s spoon. Pull a campwide fire drill to divert everyone to the rec hall? No, that’s the worst idea in the history of ever. Dr. Steve would have a conniption and then I would probably be sent home.

  Which leaves me back at square one.

  “Earth to Chelsea,” Sloan was saying. “Where are you?”

  “Sorry, I was . . . distracted,” Chelsea said, embarrassed. “I guess I just spaced out.”

  “Seriously,” Sloan said. “You almost marched straight into Priya. You were on a collision course.”

  “I didn’t even notice,” Chelsea admitted. Since the mess hall was a safe zone, normally dinner was the one time you could let your guard down, but Chelsea’s brain had gone into overdrive after she’d fled from Sarah’s bunk—and Sarah’s glare—earlier. And it hadn’t quieted since.

  As they moved to the front stairs of the mess hall, the girls were suddenly bumped from behind, sending Chelsea stumbling forward. She grabbed at Sloan’s wrist to steady herself. “Whoops.”

  “Gosh,” Sloan said. “Do people have to be so pushy about mess hall food? Mashed potatoes from a box are really not worth all of this effort.”

  The two girls turned around to see Sarah, a scowl fixed on her face. “Chelsea,” Sarah said, pointing angrily. “What is this?”

  “You, bumping into us?” Sloan suggested.

  “No, I mean this.” Sarah thrust her hand forward. Her fingers were wrapped around a spoon. “This was in your waistband when I bumped into you. Your spoon.”

  Chelsea’s eyes widened. “No. That’s not possible. I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that.” She didn’t know where Sarah had gotten the spoon from, but she knew one thing—it was planted.

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, seeing, what Sarah was suggesting. Carrying a spoon on your person was totally against the rules! She couldn’t believe that Sarah would accuse her of cheating. Sure, maybe Chelsea hadn’t had the best attitude their first summer together, but since then the girls had all gotten to know one another, and Chelsea felt that her friends truly, finally, understood her.

  Apparently her “friends” no longer included Sarah.

  She’d known that already, of course—Sarah had made that more than apparent ever since the girls had shown up on the first day of camp—but this definitely hammered it home. Sarah had sunk to a new low. Ew. Chelsea didn’t know what to make of this.

  “Obviously you would do that and you did do that,” Sarah said, “or I wouldn’t have this spoon in my hand now, would I?” From behind Sarah, Avery snickered meanly. A small crowd had begun to form around the girls.

  “If you were caught cheating, you’re automatically disqualified,” Avery said. “It’s the rules.”

  “Great. Except Chelsea didn’t cheat,” Sloan said loudly.

  “Are you saying I’m
a liar?” Sarah asked, her voice laced with challenge.

  “Actually—” Sloan started.

  “Forget it,” Chelsea said, cutting her off. Obviously Chelsea knew that Chelsea hadn’t cheated. And Sarah knew that Chelsea hadn’t cheated. And Sarah knew that Chelsea knew that Sarah knew Chelsea hadn’t cheated. Which, in addition to being extremely confusing, meant that Sarah was willing to fight dirty to get Chelsea knocked out of the game.

  It made no sense. The Sarah she’d known at Lakeview was a good sport, fair, honest.

  Then again, the Sarah she’d known at Lakeview was also nice.

  This Sarah was different. Way different. And not, Chelsea decided, worth her energy any longer.

  “Just forget about it,” she said again, frustrated. “I’m out. I’m done with the game, and I don’t care.”

  It wasn’t true, of course. Of course she cared about the game—as well as what the other campers thought of her. But there was nothing to be done about that now, was there? So she simply ran ahead to the mess hall without waiting to hear what anyone else had to say.

  chapter EIGHT

  Dear Lacy,

  I send this letter under the threat of mortal danger.

  Okay, just kidding, but oh ... my... gosh, have things gotten crazy around here—crazier than things ever get at school—ever since we all started playing Assassin.

  As I write this, three of my fellow tentmates are completely MIA: Natalie, Jenna, and Brynn. I’d give you three guesses what they’re doing, but I bet you won’t need more than one. Obvs they’re out on some kind of information-gathering/ strategizing weirdness, possibly tunneling through the camp via underground passageway, or fashioning magnifying lenses from the nature shack into periscopes. Who even knows?

  Not that I don’t have Assassin fever—trust me, it rubs off—but all of that competitiveness and aggression is bad for your aura. And also your skin. So I’m taking the game to a kinder, gentler level.