Trust Me by Rachel Hawthorne
“Ah, young love,” Sean said in a low voice near my ear.
I jerked back and glared at him. “Like you’d know anything about love.”
“I’ve heard rumors.”
Was he trying to be funny?
I shook my head slightly. That was so not what I’d expected him to say. I was sure he’d think he was a love god or something. I really didn’t know Sean at all. Which was fine. Because I really didn’t want to know him.
“What about you, Jessica?” he said, stunning me by actually using my real name. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“I am so not discussing my love life with you.”
“Is that because you don’t have one to discuss?”
His stupid question didn’t even deserve an answer. I turned on my heel and headed toward the dormitory.
It was none of his business that I did not, in fact, have a love life. That I’d never had a love life. Or that I’d never even been kissed. Hadn’t even come close.
Chapter Six
As it turned out, Liz, Torie, Caryn, and I were sharing the dormitory. Torie and Caryn had arrived earlier and had been out scouting the area. That’s the reason we hadn’t met up until the first meeting of the morning.
I was excited that we would all be sharing space, because we’d gotten along great last year. It was reassuring that at least one aspect of the camp was going right! As I got settled in, I tried really hard not to think about everything that had gone wrong so far.
On the wall above my bed I hung a dream catcher that I’d made last summer. According to Lakota legend, the web captures the good parts of dreams, while the bad parts slip through the hole in the center. I wasn’t sure that I really believed in the power of the legend, but I liked the story. And I definitely needed something to hold on to the good. To ward off the evil of Sean.
At the foot of my bed, I placed an afghan that my grandma had crocheted for me when I started kindergarten, so I would have something to snuggle against during nap time. I didn’t take naps anymore, but I liked to wrap up in it whenever I read. It reminded me of snuggling against my grandma. Not that we had a lot of spare time at camp, but I was hoping to finish rereading my Harry Potter books before the final one came out. I was halfway finished with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Two summers ago, I’d made the beaded bookmark that I used to mark my place.
On the nightstand beside my bed, I put a picture of my family—Mom, Dad, Alex, and me—all bundled up. A ski slope was in the background. We’d gone to Telluride, Colorado, during the holidays. I also had a photo of Liz and me, hamming it up the last day of school. We were grinning, giving each other a big thumbs-up. We had made it. We were on our way to high school.
If we could get through the summer.
By the time Liz, Caryn, Torie, and I had everything in place, Ed was clanging the triangle to signal that supper was ready. I wasn’t thrilled that the afternoon had drifted away. Nor was I exactly thrilled with the supper menu. Not only were there separate plates for the corn bread and chocolate cake but bowls for the stew. Way too many dishes to wash.
Just like lunch, the tables were divided by gender. A table of girls, a table of boys.
“So did we not get the cutest guys as partners?” Torie asked after we all sat down at our table.
“We did not,” I said.
“Oh, come on,” Caryn said. “You might not like Sean, but you have to admit that he is cute.”
I didn’t have to admit anything.
“I wouldn’t have minded staring into his eyes for a couple of minutes,” Liz said.
Traitor.
“Did you want to switch partners?” I asked.
“No way. But I agree with Caryn that Sean is cute.”
“I think he’s a perfect example of not judging a book by its cover,” I said.
“The guys are staring at us,” Caryn whispered, ducking her head down slightly, staring into her bowl of stew. “Do you think they’re as interested in us as we are in them?”
“I’m not interested,” I said.
“Come on, Jess, you might not be interested in Sean, but there are plenty of other guys. So who do you wish you’d been partnered with?” Liz asked.
Hmmm. Good question.
Very subtly, I slid my gaze over so I could examine the guys at the first table. I was surprised to see Sean looking at me. Or at least I thought he was. It was like our eyes met for a split second. Then, like Caryn, he was suddenly very interested in his stew. Maybe he was wondering how much work it would be to wash all these dishes.
Some of the other guys at the table were definitely cute, especially the guy in a green shirt, sitting near the end of the table. I didn’t know him. But my gaze kept wandering back to Sean. Obnoxious Sean. Cheating Sean. I needed the refrain to keep cycling through my head so I wouldn’t forget.
“If I was only about looks, I’d have to admit that Sean would definitely be boyfriend material,” I said, somewhat reluctantly. Then I realized something else. Sean was wearing a black T-shirt that fit him way better than his camp shirt. “Why are the guys not in their uniforms?”
“Excellent question,” Liz said.
Everyone at our table was suddenly seriously looking around. We were the only ones still dressed in brown.
Liz leaned over to the girls at the far end of our table. “Why aren’t you still in uniform?”
“Pul-ease!” the girl said. She was blond. I think her name was Kimo.
“Don’t we have to wear them?” Liz asked.
“Only when we’re officially ‘on duty.’” She tapped her bowl. “We’re not on duty.”
“Oh, cool. We must have missed that announcement.” Liz straightened and grinned at us. “I say we head back to the dormitory as soon as we’re finished eating and change.”
“Can’t,” I said.
“Why not?” Liz asked.
I grimaced. I’d somehow thought that not discussing my kitchen duty might make it go away, but the way Edna kept looking at me from her place at the head table, I knew I was doomed.
“I have to wash the dishes tonight.” I looked down at my plate.
Liz gasped as though I’d just told her that she could no longer be my best friend.
“What are you talking about?”
I repeated my earlier conversation with Edna word for word. It was emblazoned on my brain, forever burning its way into my most undesirable memories.
“That’s so not fair!” Liz announced.
Although I agreed with her, I was trying really hard not to prove that I’d answered question ten on the application wrong: Do you have a positive outlook? Yes.
I shrugged. “Could be worse. She could have us cleaning the toilets.”
Although a half hour later when I was standing in the kitchen with Sean, I was thinking that maybe cleaning toilets wouldn’t be so bad.
Jackson was the guy in charge of the kitchen. I didn’t know if that was his first name or his last. He didn’t have anything embroidered on his apron. He was a pretty large man—maybe he believed in sampling the food as he cooked it. He had a small staff of three people who helped him cook and clean. They were thrilled—doing the happy dance around the kitchen—because tonight, at least, they didn’t have to wash dishes.
Needless to say, I was less than thrilled. But apparently Sean was digging it.
He stood beside me in front of the side-by-side stainless-steel sinks. Each had a long-hosed nozzle. We simply rinsed off the plates or bowls, watched the food circle the drain and go down the disposal, and placed the dishes in the large dishwasher beside us. Each machine was about three times bigger than the one in my kitchen at home. I guess they needed extra dishwashing power to handle all the dishes they had to deal with once camp got underway. I’d never really given it any thought. Just assumed some dishwashing fairy came in every night and took care of things. Silly me.
Sean was humming a song and squirting the plates in rhythm to his humming. Da-squirt-da-squirt-dada-squir
“How can you be so jovial?” I asked.
“How can you not?” he retorted.
“I don’t even wash dishes at home.”
“I do,” he said. “So, what am I humming?”
Da-squirt-da-squirt-dada-squirt-squirt.
“The theme song to Mission Impossible.”
“Wrong!”
I stared at him. “No way.”
“Mission Impossible Three.”
“Like there’s a difference.”
“Of course there’s a difference. If there wasn’t, it would simply be Mission Impossible.”
Da-squirt-da-squirt-dada-squirt-squirt.
Then he changed songs.
Hum-squirt-hum-squirt-hum-huh-hum-uh-squirt-squirt.
He bent down slightly and knocked his shoulder against mine. That was another thing that was different about him. He was a lot taller this summer, which left me feeling a lot shorter.
“Come on, Travel Size. Take a guess,” he urged.
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Excuse me? ‘Travel Size’?”
“Yeah, you don’t really seem to be growing in between summers.”
“I’ll have you know that girls reach their full height way ahead of guys. I just reached mine sooner than most.”
“You don’t have to be so sensitive about it. I dig shortness in chicks.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Like I care what he digs in chicks.
“I’m not sensitive about my height. I’m sensitive that you seem to think you have the right to give me nicknames.”
“I give everyone nicknames. It’s what I do.”
“That and get into trouble,” I reminded him.
“I get into trouble when I’m bored. Washing dishes is boring. We’re CITs. We’re supposed to know how to make things fun.”
Question thirteen. Are you able to make the most boring of tasks exciting?
And, of course, I’d answered yes.
“So come on,” he continued. “Guess the movie.”
Hum-squirt-hum-squirt-hum-huh-hum-uh-squirt-squirt.
“Star Wars,” I finally said.
“Which episode or title?”
“They’re all the same.”
“No, they’re not. I’m thinking of a particular episode.”
“Episode Three: Revenge of the Sith.”
“Nope. Episode Four: A New Hope.”
I rolled my eyes. “And if I’d said Episode Four, you would have said Episode Three.”
“You’ve got major trust issues,” Sean said.
“With you, definitely.”
“Come on. It’s been a year. People change.”
“People, sure. But Freddy Krueger? I don’t think so.”
“Ouch! I’m not that bad.”
“The snake in my bed?” I reminded him.
He grimaced. “That was four years ago. And it was a harmless garden snake.”
It hadn’t looked harmless slithering across my sheet when I’d pulled back the covers before getting into bed. Needless to say my scream had been heard throughout the camp.
“The face painting? A scorpion?” I continued.
It was a rainy day, and the counselors had decided to keep us occupied by letting us paint something on each other’s cheeks.
“You wanted a butterfly. That’s so girly-girl.”
“I am a girl. Girly-girl is what I do.”
“Right. Just like Paris Hilton.” He glanced over at me. “This is camp! You know? The outdoors, the woods, back to nature. And you’re dressing up like you’re going to the prom!”
I knew he was back to discussing the makeover night. Why did it bug him so much?
“Well, we were having a girls’ night! No one was supposed to see us.”
He grinned. “Well, we were having a guys’ night.”
“And your idea of fun was scaring us?”
He chuckled. “Pretty lame, I know, but you looked so funny running out of the cabin—”
“I don’t get why you found that hilarious.”
“Come on, it was a practical joke. You took it way too seriously. As for the scorpion I painted on your cheek…you have to admit, it was way cool.”
I didn’t have to admit anything. At least not out loud. But inside my head, where he couldn’t hear, I did admit that the scorpion was way cool, shades of black, dark blue, and green. Sean was an awesome artist—the reason I’d agreed to let him paint something on my cheek to begin with.
I guess he got tired of waiting for me to respond because he said, “Okay. One more.”
“One more what?”
Da-squirt-da-squirt-da-da—
“Jaws,” I said. “One, two, three, and into infinity.”
“We have a winner!” he shouted.
Then he squirted cold water into my face!
Chapter Seven
I shrieked, crouched, and retaliated!
I sprayed him like a painter with a spray gun trying to quickly paint the outside of a house. I swept my arm up, down, around.
He was yelling, laughing, hunkering down. Our weapons, attached to the faucet, severely limited our mobility and ability to escape or duck for cover. We were mostly aiming for the face. My hair was drenched. Water was running down my forehead. It occurred to me that it was a good thing my mom wasn’t into letting me wear makeup yet or it would have been all over my face, and Sean would have had one more thing to laugh about.
As it was, his laughter was echoing around us. He seemed to be having such a great time. I didn’t want to admit that I was, too. Especially since I was getting him good and wet.
“Hey! What’s going on in here?” a loud masculine voice yelled.
We both turned, and Jackson took a direct hit. That stopped the water war. Cold.
Jackson was not a happy camper. He planted his beefy hands on his hips.
“My bad,” Sean said.
What was this? He was going to take the blame? What game was he playing now? If he was trying to get on my good side, lying wasn’t the way to get there.
“Actually we’re both to blame,” I said.
“I started it,” he said.
I’d just opened my mouth to respond when Jackson barked, “I don’t care who started it. I only care that it got ended. Mops are in the closet there.” He pointed one of his sausage-shaped fingers at a door. “Get this mess cleaned up.”
“Yes, sir,” Sean and I said at the same time. For once, we were in complete accord.
Jackson stormed out of the area, and I could hear him barking orders at the other workers. I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I shifted my gaze over to Sean. “You’re a trouble magnet, you know that?”
“Hey, I was willing to take the blame.”
“Being a CIT means not shirking responsibility.”
“I started it.”
I couldn’t help myself. I smiled at him. His black hair—no longer spiked, but longer in the front—was plastered to his head, his dren-ched T-shirt plastered to his body. “But I finished it.”
He gave me one of his famous devilish grins. “No way! Jackson finished it.”
“I was close to finishing it, though.”
His grin broadened. “Yeah, you were.” He reached out and tugged on several strands of my wet hair. “I can’t see Paris Hilton getting down and dirty.”
My heart was suddenly thundering. What was happening here? Were we flirting with each other? Was I actually enjoying his attention?
Self-conscious, I stepped back, which resulted in his yanking on my hair. I swiped at his hand. “Let go.”
He dropped his hand to the side. I was glad he wasn’t touching me anymore. Wasn’t I? Most definitely.
“We need to get this mess cleaned up,” I said unnecessarily. Anything to distract me, him—us—from what had been happening for those few weird seconds.
“Right,” he said.
It didn’t take us that long. The kitchen area was actually set up for fast c
Still, it was almost dark when we left the dining hall and started walking back to our dormitory. Later in the summer, the sun would stay out longer. But for now, the peacefulness of the night settled in earlier; I could hear the crickets and the frogs.
A lake was nearby. I’d loved swimming in it, being on it last summer. Unfortunately, the water was really cold at the beginning of summer, so I knew it would be a while before we could go swimming.
“Can I be honest with you?” Sean suddenly asked.
I rolled my eyes. “That would be a departure for you, wouldn’t it? Being honest?”
“Cut me some slack, would you? I helped you clean up the mess you made in the kitchen, didn’t I?”
I stopped walking and stared at him. “I made the mess? Fifteen minutes ago you admitted to starting it.”
“Yeah, but if you’d simply taken it like a good little girl—”
“No way was I going to just take getting sprayed.”
“All right. You have a point. I was the instigator. Anyway, back to being honest…”
I waited, wondering if he was going to comment on our strange flirtation in the kitchen. Was he going to admit to feeling something? I don’t know what. Something like a tug on his heart? Was he going to admit—
“You didn’t really win.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“The song I was humming. You sorta cheated, by naming all the Jaws movies.”
“I cheated?” I couldn’t read his expression.
He started backing away from me. “I don’t know if I can trust you now.”
“Sean—”
“I’m pretty sure I can’t,” he said.
“This is stupid. You can trust me.”
He moved his hands back and forth between us like the robot in I, Robot. “Trust works both ways.”
Now I realized: He was making fun of me!
“No way will I trust you. Ever!”
“We’ll see.”
And with that, he turned and ran to the guys’ dormitory.
I wanted to yell something at him, but I was beginning to sound like my dad’s TiVo when something happened to its disk and it kept replaying the same two seconds of a show.
I definitely needed to talk to Edna about getting a new partner.