When she was left to pay for the consequences all by herself.
Loud laughter suddenly rang out from the rec room down the hall, and warmth spread across Max’s expression. “That’s always nice to hear.”
“Yeah. Unless they’re laughing at someone.” Her stomach clenched, remembering the way Jarvis had teased Cody during the archery competition the afternoon before. It still riled her inside, and worst of all, made her feel helpless.
She could handle fear. Rejection. Abandonment. Anger. Insecurity. Bring it on.
But helplessness? Her least favorite. She wanted to act. Fix. Be. Do. And at Camp Hope, she might as well be watching from behind a two-way mirror. All visual, zero interaction.
Helpless.
Again.
Max frowned as he set his soda can back on the table. “They don’t pick on Cody 24/7, despite how it might look to you.”
“Jarvis has pulled some kind of stunt with him every time we’re in the group projects.” Emma wanted to draw a big line through the list of ideas she’d come up with on her page. If the group projects were what made the camp harder for her son, she’d rather just eliminate the whole thing.
“He’s acting out for the girls. It happens like that at every camp.”
Emma frowned. Max almost looked more amused than concerned. And there was nothing funny about it. “I don’t think it’s that simple. Something tells me Jarvis is more hard-core than that.”
“Jarvis will realize it’s a wasted effort soon enough, trust me.”
He wasn’t listening. “Sure. And meanwhile, my son is sacrificed.”
Max arched an eyebrow at her. “Not fair.”
He was right. It wasn’t. She drew a deep breath and tightened her grip on her pen. She was lashing out because she had no control. Over Cody—or even her own heart. She might have seen warning signs in the past over guys like Jarvis, but Max probably had, too. And he was in charge of this one, not her.
“You’re right.” She glanced down at her notes, the words swimming as her vision blurred. “So, what about incorporating art into the kids’ schedule?” She fought to keep her tone level and free of emotion. “For expression.”
Max’s mouth opened and shut twice, as if debating whether or not to push their previous topic, but he finally nodded. “Sounds good. Some of the teens would probably think it a chore, but I bet several would enjoy it. Could be helpful.”
“And interesting, to see what they’d paint if they had complete freedom.”
“Good idea.” His eyes lit at the possibilities. “Maybe it’ll open some doors into their subconscious for us.” Before she could argue, he got up and joined her on the sofa, forcing her to scoot sideways several inches to avoid being sat on. “I’ll set that up for tomorrow. It’ll be a good Saturday project.” He looked down at her notes, tilting his head sideways to read. “What else you got there?”
As much as it meant to her that he valued her opinion, she almost covered her list with her hand from embarrassment. At least she had scratched out where she’d accidentally doodled his name earlier. “Nothing much.”
“Trust exercises?” Max pointed to an entry halfway down her sheet, under where she had drawn a line through relay races. “What do you mean by that?”