Part 17 (2/2)

”This is not funny,” Mr. Myner snapped. ”Not only did you steal lodge property ...” He waved Doose in the air. ”You destroyed my my property. And for that you will all get up tomorrow morning at sunrise, which is at exactly ...” He lifted his wrist to his face and pressed a silver k.n.o.b on the side of his watch. It beeped three times. ”Which is at exactly six-forty a.m., and you will rebuild my igloo before breakfast.” property. And for that you will all get up tomorrow morning at sunrise, which is at exactly ...” He lifted his wrist to his face and pressed a silver k.n.o.b on the side of his watch. It beeped three times. ”Which is at exactly six-forty a.m., and you will rebuild my igloo before breakfast.”

The laughter quickly transitioned into a chorus of whines, moans, and groans.

”But I didn't do anything,” anything,” Strawberry insisted. Strawberry insisted.

”Well, unless you can tell me who did, I am holding you all responsible.” Mr. Myner tapped his muddy foot on the rug and waited for her to speak up.

”I-I don't know who's responsible,” she said to her down-filled pillow.

”Then I will see you all bright and early at six-forty,” Mr. Myner said. ”Don't forget your mittens.” He smirked. ”It's mighty cold here in the morning.”

”Cole? Co-ooole?” a singsongy voice called from outside.

”Ew.” Dylan said under her breath.

Mr. Myner's expression softened. ”Coming, Merri-Lee,” he sang back to her.

Dylan rolled over on her side and faced the wall.

”Uh, I have to go over tomorrow's shoot schedule. So no trouble or you will be up at five to catch the first bus home.” Mr. Myner gently hung Doose back on the nail above the fireplace, turned off the light, and left. No one said a word until the sound of his heavy footsteps was no longer audible.

”I am so going to puke,” Dylan said. ”Gawd, could she be any more desperate? ”Who hits on a geo teacher?”

”Desperate math teachers,” Ma.s.sie said. ”And your mother.”

Everyone giggled.

”Very funny,” Dylan whined. ”I swear, as soon as I'm sixteen I'm divorcing her.”

While Dylan complained about her mother and Alicia and Olivia went back to whispering, Kristen silently pulled off her soccer clothes and handed them up to Ma.s.sie, who discreetly pa.s.sed them to Claire. It wasn't easy wiggling out of flannels and putting on sweats under a layer of heavy wool blankets, but Claire was determined. She pinned her blond hair to the back of her head and swept her short bangs to the left, because Ma.s.sie insisted it drew attention to her ”good side.”

Once Claire was dressed, she handed her pink-and-green plaid flannel nights.h.i.+rt to Ma.s.sie, who tossed them under her bed for Kristen. Phase one of the plan was complete. Now all Claire had to do was stay awake until the others fell asleep. Then she would sneak out.

Somewhere between counting owl hoots and the number of times Strawberry snored, Claire drifted off. She woke suddenly to the sound of footsteps creaking on the wood of the cabin floors. A tingle of p.r.i.c.kly sweat welled up on the bottoms of her feet. Was it a bear? Was Mr. Myner checking up on them? Was Alicia coming to strangle her?

The cabin door opened slowly, then closed. It must be someone going to the bathroom, Claire decided. She would wait until they came back and then leave, just in case they ran into each other outside.

Sometime later-it was hard to tell exactly how much without her watch-Claire woke up again. She was mad at herself for drifting off but knew by now that whoever had been walking around was either gone or had gone back to sleep.

Claire slowly sat up in her bed. The springs squeaked a little when she moved, but no one stirred. Gently, she rose to her feet and waited to see if anyone had woken up.

Nothing.

She lifted her right leg and stretched it out as far as it . would go, so that it touched one of the sheepskin rugs and not the creaky wood. When she felt the fluff beneath her wool socks, Claire took another step. She slipped on her shoes and then continued to make her way across the cabin, lightly hopping from one rug to the next, the same way she used to leap across river rocks back in Florida.

The brisk night air was invigorating. It sharpened Claire's mind and cooled the thin layer of nervous sweat that had coated her skin.

On the count of three she vowed to jump off the side of the porch and make a run for the boys' cabin. On the count of three she would make things right with Cam. On the count of three she would risk suspension in the name of love.

One ... two ... three ...

LAKE PLACID, NEW YORK FOREVER WILD CAMPSITE THE BOYS' BUNK.

Monday, February 23rd 11:48 P.M. P.M.

The overwhelming boy smell was a shock to her system, even though Claire should have been used to it by now. After all, it was the same musty combination of sweat and stale breath that her brother Todd's room smelled like in the morning, only ten times thicker.

Claire covered her nose with the thick, porous, polyester sleeve of Kristen's soccer jersey and breathed in the leftover traces of her friend's signature scent, Clinique's Happy. It was all she could do to keep from dry heaving.

If it hadn't been for Cam's infamous brown leather jacket hanging over the thick wood post of his bed, Claire never would have spotted him. He was curled up in a little ball, completely covered in the heavy wool Indian blankets, except for the top of his thick black hair.

Claire felt a flutter in her stomach. She had never seen Cam asleep before. She had never even seen him lying down. It was thrilling and slightly disturbing at the same time. It felt wrong to watch him when he had no idea he was being watched, like she was stealing something valuable from him.

After a deep inhale and a slow, measure exhaled, Claire decided it was time to make her move across the sock-strewn floor. She pressed her palms against the door to absorb the inevitable click! click! sound the latch would make when she shut it behind her. sound the latch would make when she shut it behind her.

There was no turning back now.

A few of the boys were snoring. The off-key blasts reminded Claire of her brother and his friend Tiny Nathan tuning up for band practice. But in this case, instead of covering her ears, Claire waited anxiously for the sounds and used them to help her reach her target undetected.

Snore ... step ... snore ... step ... snore ... step ... snore ...

Claire zigzagged through a minefield of muddy Timberlands, worn messenger bags, and torn-out pages from graphic novels on her way over to Cam's bed. There wasn't a fluffy white rug in the entire cabin. And instead of a cozy beanbag-and-pillow nook by the fireplace, there were big rocks covered in plaid blankets. It was more rugged than her bunk and a lot less cozy.

Her stomach lurched as she approached Cam's bed. Would he send her away? Laugh in her face? Wake his friends up so they could all see how desperate and pathetic she was?

Someone moved on the bunk above him. Claire froze and held her breath until he settled.

Once everyone was still, Claire leaned forward and nudged Cam out of his sleep. He rolled over and faced her, then opened his blue and green eyes.

”Dude!” He shot up in bed.

Dude?

”What are you doing here?”

Claire lowered herself and sat on the edge of his mattress by his pillow.

”Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

”Claire?”

”Yeah.”

”I thought you were Brian Jeffreys.” Cam blinked a few times to clear his vision.

”Who?” Claire didn't really care what Cam was saying as long as he was talking to her.

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