I didn't want it to end, but like all good things, it had to. We were leaving in the morning. Tonight, the counselors had thrown the campers a party at dinner, then sent anyone under twenty-one to bed early. Including Tiffany.
"But I'm practically twenty-one," she'd argued with Gary.
"Aren't you like nineteen?" he'd responded. "And even if you were twenty and three-hundred-and-sixty-four days, it wouldn't matter. You're underage."
I'd walked her to her cabin while Kirk had dealt with ours. Her girls'd asked for a bedtime story, and Tiffany had pulled out a surprisingly good one. She'd told me why afterward-she'd just summarized the first three seasons of 90210.
After saying goodnight, I headed to the campfire Gary and the staff had made.
As I approached, Bucky dicked around on the guitar, plucking at random strings. Lexi, a lifeguard, passed me a Bud. All the chairs were taken, so I sat in the dirt by the fire.
"Welcome to the special adult party," Gary said to me. "We do it every year on the last night. Tiffany's not going to rat us out to her parents, is she?"
"Sutter don't call the shots in that relationship," Bucky said. "When you got a hot piece of ass like her, you just do what she says."
Fuck this guy. He'd been giving me shit all week. When I worked a job, I mostly kept to myself because there were always men like Bucky whose mouths were bigger than their muscles. My muscles were just big, a byproduct of being one of the younger guys in construction-the older ones were always making me do the toughest shit. I couldn't take the kinda bait Bucky was tossing in front of me. My dad had a temper that could flip at any moment and I knew, deep down, that switch existed in me. "Don't go there, man."
"Or what?" Bucky asked.
I opened my beer. "You're lucky there are kids around."
Lexi threw a bottle cap at Bucky. "Stop. Seriously. You're an ass."
Gary squinted at me over the fire. I wasn't so good at making friends, but he'd been good to me, giving me this job, making sure I was set all week. That was part of why I'd been on my best behavior. I planned to keep in touch, maybe even come back next year.
"Anybody know a good scary story?" Lexi asked.
"I got one," Bucky said. "Once upon a time, we ran out of beer."
"Bullshit," someone said.
"There's more back in the kitchen," Gary said.
"Nah, there ain't." Bucky strummed the guitar and sang, "This is the l-a-a-a-st of it."
Gary checked the cooler. "Fuck. Who the fuck's been sneaking it out?"
Everybody looked away. I hadn't drunk anything in a week, but if Tiffany had found herself some special punch our first night here, no doubt others had their ways of sniffing it out, too.
"Somebody's gotta go replenish the stash," Gary said. "The night just started. I've already had two, and with my job, if I get a DUI, I'm fucked."
"None of us are sober," Bucky pointed out, slowly turning his beady eyes on me. "Except Sutter."
I hadn't even taken a sip. Truth was, I didn't want to do much more than have a beer, two max, and head to bed. The days here were long, hot, and grueling. But everyone looked at me, which didn't leave me much choice. "I don't have a car."
"Take my truck." Vern, a gray-haired wiry man who worked full-time as a janitor for the campground, shifted around to shove his hand in his pocket. "It's about forty minutes to town and back."
He tossed me the keys. It was barely nine-thirty and didn't seem worth arguing about. Even if I wasn't going to drink, I was the new guy, and their only hope for refills. I passed my untouched beer to the guy next to me and stood. "All right."
"There's a liquor store on the main boulevard," Vern said. "If it's closed, just stop in any dive around there and slip 'em some cash. They'll sell you a bottle of something."
I nodded at them and headed for staff parking. Gary caught up with me after a few yards. "Forgot to get you cash," he said, passing me a couple twenties.
I thought about not accepting it, but I didn't have a dollar to spare on other people's alcohol, so I put it in my pocket. "Thanks."
"Also wanted to thank you," Gary said. "You did good this week."
"Yeah?"
We stopped at Vern's truck, a white, rusted Ford from the seventies that looked like it weighed as much as a whale and probably moved as fast. "I was a little worried about having Tiffany here," Gary said. "She seems like a rule breaker. But far's I know, you two kept it clean. That probably wasn't easy so I appreciate it." He ran a hand through the mop of curls on his head. "How long you two been dating?"
"Couples months I guess."
"Ah. Is it serious?"
I glanced back at the campfire. No, it wasn't, but it could get serious. If things kept up this way, Tiffany letting down her guard, Lake being off limits, it might. "Nah. Not yet."
"Good, good." Gary rocked on his heels. "You're too young to settle down, but I know how these girls can get. Don't let her push you in that direction if you aren't ready."
I wasn't sure what to say about it. Much as I liked Gary, I wasn't in the habit of talking about my personal shit with anyone.
He slapped me on the back. "See you in a few."
I climbed into the beat-up truck. The thing didn't look like it'd make it down the block, much less to town, but I figured Vern knew better than me. It growled to life, and I gave it a few minutes to warm up. Luckily, the heater worked. Walking away from the campfire had left me with a chill. I reversed out of the lot and headed for the trail toward the highway. I squinted through the pitch dark, the headlights showing only what was right in front of me.
At the mouth of the unpaved road, a movement caught my eye. Lake stepped out into the path, looking not even a little worried I might hit her. I slammed on the brakes. "Jesus Christ."
In denim short-shorts that looked a size too big and a t-shirt a size too small, she came around to the passenger's side and opened the door.
"What're you doing?" I asked.
"Looking for you. I waited at the pool, hoping you'd come since it's our last night."
I checked over my shoulder to make sure nobody was around. "Get in."
She hauled herself into the seat and pulled on the door. Using all her weight only moved it a few inches. The truck was hidden by trees, but we weren't even off the campsite yet. I leaned over to grab the handle, and the door creaked and groaned, closing heavily.
Her face was in mine. I smelled sweetness, watermelon or something, and chlorine. "You didn't get in the pool, did you?"
"Just my feet."
She kicked off her flip-flops. The fine, gold hair on her upper thigh shimmered under the dome light. I didn't know where to start. The skimpy outfit? Sneaking around in the dark? Swimming without supervision? "You can't be here, Lake."
"I know. But it's our last night."
We were on display. I started to drive to get the light to turn off. "It's everyone's last night."
I went slowly down the unpaved trail, but we jostled in our seats anyway. She didn't even bother looking out the windshield. "Where are you going?" she asked.
Hunched over the wheel, I glanced between her and the road. The seat was one long bench of three seats, Caribbean-turquoise vinyl. She pulled one bare foot up on it and faced me, like I was about to say something important. "On an errand."
"So you're coming right back?"
"Yeah."
"Then what's the big deal if I come?"
It was after dark, she was a minor, and I was responsible for her. All that said, she'd never be safer than when she was with me. I was sure of it. I adjusted the rearview mirror. "You promise to go straight to your cabin when we get back?"
"Yes."
"So what're you doing, swimming alone at night?" I made sure my tone conveyed my disapproval.
"I told you. Waiting for you. And I only put my feet in."
"Doesn't matter. It's dangerous. Water tricks you. It looks calm and inviting, but it can kill you. Fast."
She didn't respond. If I'd scared her, good. Nothing bad ever came of respecting the elements.
The final few yards of the road were bad enough to knock a pack of cigarettes out of Vern's visor. Lake picked them up. "How come you never smoke in front of me?"
"They're not mine." I pulled onto a main road, and the ride got about as smooth as it was going to get in this soon-to-be junkyard scrap metal. I relaxed back into my seat. "We talked about this. Secondhand smoke's bad for you."