Bookishly Ever After (Ever After #1)(60)

I didn’t know how to respond to that or if I even had to, so I just nodded. “Okay.” I hitched my bow bag even more securely on my shoulder and stepped back, almost bumping into someone.

“Watch it!” Came the voice from behind me and I turned, an apology on the tip of my tongue. One of Grace’s cheerleader friends, Cassie, squinted at me sleepily and shook her head. “Oh, Phoebe, it’s you.” She yawned. “It’s too early to have to watch out for people trying to step on me.”

“Sorry.” I smiled sheepishly while moving sideways into an empty spot. “It’s too early for my brain to work.”

“You’re telling me.” Dev joined us and my stupid, traitorous heart stopped beating for a second. Even in pajama pants with his hair sticking up all over the place in messy spikes, he looked hot. I blinked and tried to focus instead on his ratty grey duffel bag and the Echelon Cricket Club logo on the side. He must have seen me staring. “Sport of champions. It’s my dad’s bag. I suck at batting and bowling.” I just kept staring, feeling a bit dumb.

“Cricket, like in Alice in Wonderland?” Cassie asked. She gave my foot a nudge.

God, was I that obvious? “No, that was croquet,” I said, shifting my focus to her gratefully. Grace had good taste in teammates.

I was saved from having to say anything when Mrs. Forrester blew a little whistle straight out of The Sound of Music to get our attention. “Counselors, now that you’re all here, just some quick basics. If you check out the packets we sent you, there should be a number on the top of the front page. That’s your cabin number.” I pulled the green folder out of my bag and flipped the corner down until the big number eight was visible. I breathed a sigh of relief. If the numbering meant anything, at least my cabin wouldn’t be the first for anything. While we shuffled through our packets, she handed out bags labeled with our names. I opened mine and pulled out a yellow polo shirt with Lambertfield Middle School logo stamped on the spot where there was usually a pocket.

Mrs. Forrester cleared her throat to get our attention again. At least she wasn’t going to whistle at us all the time. “These are your uniforms. There should be three shirts in there, and there are laundry facilities at the camp. Whether or not you clean them is up to you, but you have to wear the shirts during all daytime activities at the camp. Also, a few ground rules. You’re here to help the students. No partying in the woods. If your significant other is here, no making out or whatever you kids do nowadays in the woods. First, poison ivy is awful if it gets there and second, we will call your parents if we catch you.” That got a snicker from some of the group. “Also, if you have a problem camper, you are to come to me for advice.”

I unzipped my hoodie and pulled one of the shirts over my henley before shrugging back into my jacket. May mornings in New Jersey were still pretty cold.

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head, sucking in a breath as Dev, apparently heedless of the chill, pulled off his own shirt and replaced it with the polo. I sucked back a surprised gasp. He was fast, but not so fast that I didn’t get a full, unobstructed view of his bare chest for what were the longest few seconds of my life. I pulled my hoodie around my face to hide my burning cheeks.

Cassie grabbed my arm and pulled me over to a redand-orange suitcase. “Can you help me stuff these in here? I barely got it closed this morning,” she said loudly. She gave me a sympathetic smile before bending over and unzipping the bag. “You’re so red,” she whispered, stating the obvious. “I thought you might want an out.”

“Thank you,” I said, softly.

“I’ve been there,” she said without looking up. “Ex-boyfriend or crush?”

“Does ex-crush who thinks I just like him as a friend count?” I held the suitcase lid down while she tried to zip it shut. She hadn’t been exaggerating about it being overstuffed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kris hurrying our way, a younger version of himself in tow. I ducked my head so my hair covered my face. It was too early to even think of being cute and flirty. “And here comes my current crush.”

Cassie looked up, screwing up her nose like a skunk had just walked by. “You mean Mr. ‘The Football Team Is a Bunch of Rejects?’’” One look at me and she smoothed her features back into a comforting smile. “Ugh. Think of the bright side. Chances are you and Dev aren’t co-counselors, which means you won’t see him most of the time. And maybe you and Kris might be partnered.”

I looked over at Dev again, who was comparing his folder with some of the other guys. A burning feeling seared me down to my toes. I quickly tried to shift that gaze and feeling over to Kris. “That would be fantastic.”





37


By the time my sleeping bag and duffel were unloaded from the bottom of the bus, most of the counselors were already arranging on the far side of the parking lot. After passing the wall of teachers trying to organize all of the sixth graders, I looked up and my heart sunk. Kris was holding up a piece of paper with a big number two written on it while chatting with one of the girls from the outdoor club who had to be his co-counselor. Shoving my disappointment to the back of my mind, I kept walking, eyes scanning for my number.

Dev stood under the number eight taped to the side of the camp parking lot fence.

If this were a perfect world, I would have been able to break into frustrated tears then and there and no one would notice. I almost turned around to run back to the safety of the bus. Instead, I sucked in a deep breath and drew myself up, trying to look graceful and unconcerned as I swung my sleeping bag and dropped it against the fence. That thing was freakishly heavy. “This isn’t your number, is it?” That came out before I could stop it. I bit the inside of my cheek before I could say anything else.