Trust Me Read online

  I’d had visions of text messaging a guy counselor, “U R 2 CUTE.” Yeah, right, like I’d ever be that bold.

  My vast experience at communicating with guys mostly involved my brother, who was six years younger than me. Our conversations usually began with him whining, “I’m gonna tell Mom.”

  And my witty response: “Whatever.”

  I needed to seriously develop my flirtation skills—like figuring out what guys found interesting and what they wanted to talk about—and my brother was so not good practice material.

  “Maybe once we go hiking, get farther away from camp, I’ll be able to pick up a signal,” I suggested hopefully, although I was beginning to suspect that the camp had been built in the one place that the Verizon-can-you-hear-me-now? guy had yet to visit.

  Liz shook her head. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. We should have expected this.”

  Or as my dad said, we were “on the farside of nowhere,” which he seemed to think was worse than being in the middle of nowhere. I sorta figured nowhere was nowhere and it didn’t have map coordinates. You were just there. No where.

  “I think I’m going into cell phone withdrawal,” I said, only half jokingly. My dad had constantly teased me for the last couple months that my hand was permanently curled in cell-phone-holding position. Of course, he said Mom’s hand was permanently curled in credit-card-holding position.

  “I’m already there,” Liz said. Her phone wasn’t getting a signal either.

  Even though Liz was the person I called most, and we would be side by side most of the summer, we’d planned to use our phones for communicating on the sly.

  QT 2 R = Cutie to the right.

  QT 2 L = Cutie to the left.

  I angled the phone and snapped a picture of Liz. At least the camera still worked. My dad was all about gadgets. No way was he going to get me a plain old cell phone for my birthday. Like my dad, I saw the value in multifunctional products. I intended to take lots of pictures, so bringing the cell phone along wasn’t a total waste.

  As Liz and I approached the main office building, we spotted a group of people milling around in front. Judging by their uniforms, they were all CITs. None were the counselors from last year, although I did recognize some people who had been campers during previous summers. I guess everyone had the idea of moving up to better things.

  “I wonder where Cute Casey is,” Liz whispered.

  I shrugged. “He’s already trained. Maybe this week it’s just the newbies.”

  “Right.” She scowled.

  I watched her freckles scrunch up. With red hair comes freckles. When we were a lot younger—and really bored—we would use a Sharpie to connect the freckles on her arms to create pictures. So whenever I looked at her cheek really closely now, I always saw a kite that I’d drawn by connecting freckles. Actually, kites were pretty much all I’d ever seen and drawn. It’s fairly easy to see a kite in freckles. Does that make me unimaginative?

  I didn’t want to contemplate that it might, since being a counselor meant coming up with creative ways to keep the campers occupied and away from the boredom zone.

  “But if the older counselors aren’t here, who’s going to train us?” Liz asked me. Obviously her scowl had represented her thinking face.

  “I’m sure someone will.”

  “Hey!” A couple of girls had turned, noticed us, and hurried over. We’d met them last summer. Caryn and Torie—Victoria, according to the name embroidered on her shirt. They’d shared a cabin with us and participated in our makeover session.

  We didn’t have much time to catch up on the exciting things we’d done since last summer—which was fine with me, since I’d done very little that I would classify as exciting. Now that I was actually here, I was beginning to have doubts that I could be an amazing counselor. Could I lead? Could I keep the campers entertained? Could I protect and serve…oh, wait, that was the job of the police. Could I care for and console those who got homesick?

  I was pretty sure I could, but soon I’d be tested.

  Liz, Caryn, Torie, and I teased each other about the fact that none of us had kept our promise to stay in touch through e-mail or instant messaging. School has a way of taking up your time.

  “I don’t remember the counselors wearing these uniforms,” Liz said. She was still hung up on not being entirely fashionable. Although trekking through the woods has a fashion of its own.

  “Last year it was T-shirts,” Caryn said. “I guess they wanted something a little classier.”

  “Classier?” Liz asked. “You think this is classier?”

  “No, but I guess they thought it looked better than T-shirts.”

  “Maybe we’ll get T-shirts after we finish this week of training,” Torie said. “You know what I’m saying?”

  “I liked T-shirts on the guy counselors,” I admitted.

  “Especially on Cute Casey,” Liz said. “Anyone know if he’s going to be here this year?”

  Before anyone could answer, a clanging began. An iron triangle hung off the porch of the main lodge. Whenever our attention was needed, someone banged its insides with an iron rod. Our adventure camp had a rustic feel to it. While we had electricity, the bulbs always seemed to burn dimly. The TV in the dining hall, where we all gathered if we wanted to watch any television shows, was a very small screen and not high-def. The reception was lousy. No satellite dish. It did have a VHS tape player, but it wasn’t exactly modern.

  A woman—the tallest woman I’d ever seen, and her blond hair was practically buzzed—stood on the porch beside a man whose long dark hair was held in place with a leather tie. Excitement hummed on the air. In front of them stood four counselors I recognized from last year. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a Casey, Hank, or George among them. I wondered what happened to those guys. They’d probably been the oldest of the crew, and it seemed like they’d been around forever. Surely they hadn’t moved on to other things. Like college or the army or a real job.

  Everyone who’d been standing around—talking and waiting for the meeting to begin—shuffled closer, jockeying for a better view. And that’s when I noticed him.

  Sean Reed.

  “Oh, my gosh,” Liz whispered harshly beside me. “Do you see—”

  “I see.”

  “How are they even letting him be a CIT?” she asked. “That is so not fair!”

  As usual, she was totally reading my mind.

  Chapter Three

  Sean Reed. My arch-nemesis. Four years running. And it looked like we were going to make it five. He couldn’t be a CIT. Absolutely couldn’t be.

  But he was wearing the uniform. And he was standing in the midst of the crowd, waiting to hear whatever She and He standing on the porch had to say.

  The first year we’d met Sean, we’d rated him a nine out of a possible ten. But that was before we really got to know him. His ranking quickly descended to zero for a variety of reasons, including some dumb pranks that involved flying mashed potatoes during supper our first summer here. He was an absolute loser, although it wasn’t apparent just looking at him. You had to get really close to him to see beyond the dark hair and the blue eyes and the killer smile.

  Against my better judgment, I angled my head slightly to get a better look at him. Something about him was different. Was he a little taller? Definitely. But something else was different. He looked older. Duh?!? He was older. But he looked way older than he had last summer.

  I wondered if they’d sent him to juvie hall for what he’d done last year on the last day of camp. Maybe being a counselor was part of his rehabilitation process, because he certainly needed rehabilitating. Still, I couldn’t believe after the way he’d sabotaged our games that they would trust him—

  “Jessica Kane,” the woman on the porch said.

  I snapped my attention to her. She was reading from a clipboard. What had she been saying before she announced my name? Was she taking roll call?

  “Here!” I called out, raising my hand, sta
nding on my toes so I could be more easily seen. Lacking in height had its drawbacks. And I was seriously vertically challenged. Not that I was a midget or a dwarf, but I had definitely inherited my mom’s height, and she barely topped five feet.

  Sean jerked his head around. Our gazes clashed, and I felt that little thrill of recognition that I’d experienced the first time we met—

  “Put your hand down,” Liz whispered harshly beside me.

  “And Sean Reed,” Amazon woman announced.

  He snapped his head back to her, then twisted around completely to look at me. He took a defensive stance, crossing his arms over his chest. Something funny registered in his expression. A look of incredible disbelief. As though he’d been hit with a Taser gun. And then his mouth slowly turned up into that killer smile for which he was so well known.

  A smile that before I got to know him always made my heart beat a little faster. Just like it was doing now. Old habits were hard to break. But I was so over Sean. Not that we’d ever been an item, but there had been a time when he’d drawn my interest. A time way before I really knew him, before I discovered he had the maturity level of a five-year-old.

  “Why doesn’t he answer roll call?” I asked. “She’s not taking roll, dummy,” Liz said. “She’s partnering people up. Weren’t you listening?”

  Apparently not.

  “So whose name did she call out before she called mine? Who’s my partner?”

  “Geez, Jess, where were you?” Liz asked. “You’re team member one. Team member two is…ta da! Sean.”

  “Sean Reed?”

  “Do you see any other Sean around here?”

  “That is so not going to work,” I said. Now I completely understood the look that had crossed Sean’s face. I figured my expression was looking exactly the same. It said, “No way, no way, no way. Absolutely not! That was so not going to happen.”

  Our matchup would be worse than the counselors’ shorts and shirts. At least I could do a little creative altering with those. Sean had been unchangeable for four years. Always goofing around, playing practical jokes, never serious. Totally irritating. A royal pain in my—

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  Again with the clanging of the iron triangle.

  “All right, everyone, find your partners and form a circle,” the woman said.

  Liz started to walk off. I grabbed her arm. “Wait a minute. I’m totally lost. What is going on?”

  She jerked her thumb toward the porch. “That’s Edna and Ed. Apparently, they’re the new people ‘in charge’ this year and are the ones who are going to train us. They’re twins, by the way.”

  “They don’t look anything alike.” Although really, what did I care about their relationship? They were setting me up for disaster.

  “Whatever,” Liz said. “Torie whispered to me that she’d heard they were twins. Anyway, they’ve paired everyone up—”

  “I don’t like the pairing.”

  She was looking seriously irritated with me. “I can’t believe all this went totally over your head. This is lesson one. Learning to get along with whomever—”

  “So what? They picked the worst possible matches they could come up with?” I couldn’t help it, but I was starting to get a little freaked out!

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Sean said. “We have absolutely nothing in common.”

  I hadn’t seen him approach. I wished that he hadn’t. I could feel myself blushing. What could I say? We did have nothing in common. Last year proved that without question.

  “Is there a problem over there?” Amazon Edna called out.

  “I’ve gotta go,” Liz said. Typical Liz, worried about getting into trouble. Shouldn’t a leader lead? Like lead a revolt against this insane pairing?

  Liz walked away, leaving me facing Sean. His hair was cut shorter on the sides, but since he was wearing the CLS cap, I couldn’t tell much about the top. Last year, he’d worn it spiked. It had made him look tough. And I’d sorta fallen for that tough-guy look. It had also made him look like a loner, but he’d spent a lot of time hanging around with a younger kid named Billy. I’d learned later that Billy was his brother. They looked nothing alike.

  Now Sean shook his head. “I can’t believe they paired me up with Paris Hilton.”

  I glowered. “I can’t believe they paired me up with a cheater.”

  He shrugged like I’d said his worst offense was parting his hair on the wrong side.

  “You weren’t going to win anyway, so what difference did it make?” he asked.

  I glared at him. It had been the final day of camp. The game had been Capture the Flag. Two teams competed for the prize: a plaque with the name of each member of the winning team inscribed on it. The plaque was given a place of honor on the wall inside the main office. My name was inscribed on three plaques.

  Last year I had been the captain of Team One. Sean had been the captain of Team Two. Each team had been given compass directions to help us locate our base camp where our own flag flew. Once we reached our flag, we would find a map hidden beneath a nearby rock that gave us directions to the location of the other team’s flag. The object, of course, was to find their flag, take it, and return it to our base camp—without being caught. Only Sean had somehow managed to replace our map with one that gave us a bogus location for his team’s flag. Totally unfair!

  “It makes a difference, Sean,” I said, knowing it was pointless to even say it.

  “Whatever.”

  His attitude angered me. His actions had put an end to my team’s three-year winning streak. Maybe I could have accepted the defeat graciously if it had come about because the other team was better. Okay, probably not graciously. I had this thing about winning. I really, really liked to win. But I could have accepted the defeat grudgingly.

  However, to lose because someone had cheated? How could he even think I would be okay with that? How could he not see that what he’d done had made him untrustworthy? I mean, who did he think he was?

  And this first exercise was supposed to be about learning to get along? I don’t think so!

  To get along with a person you had to trust him or her. Trust and Sean were two words that did not go together—at least not in my dictionary.

  Maybe the PTB (Powers That Be) at Camp Lone Star had forgiven him. But I never would.

  Another clanging of the iron set my teeth further on edge.

  “All right, everyone! Form your circle with partner one facing into the circle and partner two standing behind them,” Edna said, sounding like a strange version of The Cat in the Hat with Thing One and Thing Two.

  Put my back to Sean so he could stab me in it? Had she totally lost it?

  “Come on!” Edna yelled.

  Apparently, she had. What choice did I have? I didn’t want to cause a scene and hadn’t I answered yes to question eight? Do you respect authority?

  Like everyone else, I shuffled around until I was standing in front of…my arch-nemesis. The Joker to my Batman. No way would I refer to him as my partner. I looked around the circle. Every partner one was a girl. Every partner two was a guy. Had the camp gone sexist?

  “This week is all about trust,” Edna announced. “Learning to trust yourselves. Learning to trust each other. Girls, I want you to close your eyes and fall backward. I want you to trust your partner to catch you.”

  Trust Sean? How?

  “On the count of three,” Edna said. “One, two, three!”

  I spun around and stared at Sean. His blue eyes widened. His arms were actually outspread as though he’d planned to catch me. Yeah, right, Jess. And if you enter American Idol, you’ll be the next national sensation.

  “I’d rather fall facedown in mud than fall into your arms,” I said.

  “Fine,” Sean ground out. “Play it that way.”

  Huh? Before I could react, Sean turned and fell backward.

  I shrieked and staggered as his body knocked against mine. Of their own volition, my arms wrap
ped around his chest, holding him tightly against me.

  I stood there stunned, doing what I thought I’d never do: Clutching Sean Reed as though my life depended on holding him as closely as possible.

  Chapter Four

  Do you consider yourself mature?

  Question fifteen on the counselor application. I had, of course, shaded in the yes oval with enthusiasm. My response was now questionable. A mature person didn’t release her hold on a guy who had trusted her to catch him.

  I’d let him go to prove a point. But when he’d landed on the ground with a hard thud, I wasn’t exactly sure what my point had been, except maybe to demonstrate that I wasn’t going to let him manipulate me this year. I wasn’t going to fall for him, much less fall into his arms.

  And Sean…what had Sean done after my demonstration of independence?

  He’d just laughed, gotten up, made a big production of rubbing his backside, and announced, “Guess I was just too heavy for my partner.”

  Then he’d actually had the audacity to squeeze my upper arm. “We’re going to have to work on building up your muscles. Miz Edna, is that part of the program this week? Getting stronger?”

  He’d spoken loudly enough that everyone had heard. His comments had resulted in chuckles and snickers. I knew my face had turned red, because suddenly I was uncomfortably hot, embarrassed, and wondering when Sneaky Sean had become a Vince Vaughn wannabe.

  Miz Edna seemed totally unconcerned that our little two-person team hadn’t followed the exact directions regarding who was supposed to fall into whose arms. She simply said, “Everyone will definitely be stronger before the week is out.”

  Then she had tapped her clipboard. “Lunch is ready. We’ll meet back out here in an hour to continue with leadership training.”

  So now I was sitting in the dining hall at a table with Liz, Caryn, and Torie. The partnering didn’t extend to lunch, so girls were at one table, guys at another. For the moment, I could not have been happier with that arrangement. Having Sean at my table would have seriously ruined my appetite. As it was, I was struggling to eat anyway. My stomach was knotted tightly. I couldn’t believe they’d hired him to be a counselor. What were they thinking? And how was I going to survive this?