Ron smiles too. She’s got them. Hook, line and sinker.
Chapter 8
Hunter and I walk out of the forest. He’s a bit in front of me, leading me to the canteen, which it turns out is that large white building on the far side of the camp. Many others are also heading over there.
As we walk over, I hurry a bit to walk next to him.
“Li said I should go to Cabin 10,” I say. “Do I have to go there first?”
He laughs.
“What’s so funny?” I say.
He points at himself. “Cabin 10.”
“I’m going to be in a cabin with… a boy?”
“The cabins are co-ed. Besides, you won’t be with a boy. You’ll be with two boys. Lucky you.” He chuckles again. “But to answer your earlier question, nah you don’t need to go there first. Me and Remy will head there after dinner anyway so you can tag along.”
I frown. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Why does going to our cabin after dinner not make sense?” he says playfully.
I sigh. “You know what I’m talking about. The co-ed thing.”
“Well, if it bothers you that much, you can ask Li to let you stay in one of the empty cabins. Cabins 11 and 12 are empty. The rest are full, except for ours which has room for one more person now that you’re here.”
“This other boy isn’t some kid, right? I’d rather not babysit.”
“Nah, Remy and I are the same age, probably a little older than you. You’re like, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?”
“I’m sixteen.”
“Oh. Then we’re just a year older than you. Anyway, the kids are mostly in Cabins 1 to 6. Three kids, one adult in each. But the teenager cabins don’t have supervisors so it’ll just be us.”
We arrive at the white building but instead of going inside, we walk around to the back.
“That’s the kitchen in there,” Hunter says as we pass.
Attached to the white building is a large pavilion with an upside down V roof supported by square wooden poles on the perimeter. Fairy lights are strung between the poles, lighting up the area in the quickly approaching darkness. Inside, most of the picnic tables are already full of kids and teens chatting and chomping down on grilled meats, veggies and mashed potatoes. At the far end of the pavilion, Li and some other adults sit and eat at a table close to a small stage. The stage is a built-in square set up a couple feet higher than the rest of the floor. There’s just a podium on it at the front center, but no microphone or anything.
Hunter takes me a bit inside of the white building, where a buffet is lined up. We grab some food and drinks and go out the door. He weaves his way through the tables, getting closer to where Li is. He stops at a table where a teen boy and a ton of kids are sitting, taking up the whole table. The boy is eating but the kids—mostly boys—are just bombarding him with questions about soccer or something.
“Alright, skedaddle,” the boy says to the kids when he sees me and Hunter.
“Aww, but Remy,” one of the kids whines, “the game tomorrow…”
“Come on, you guys know you’re ready. All you need to do now is eat a good meal and get a good night’s sleep. So go eat.”
The kids hop up, psyched. “Yeah, we’re ready,” they say to one another over and over as they split apart and join various other tables.
Hunter and I sit down. Now that the boy—Remy, I guess—isn’t crowded with children, I can get a better look at him. His skin is white, but everything else about him is dark—his hair and eyes and thick caterpillar eyebrows and thick arm hair. His hair is cut low, spiked up with some sort of gel. His hairline is neat with a sharp widow’s peak. Even as we’re sitting, I can tell he’s tall. And he has an athletic build—not the bulky kind, but the slim, toned kind without an ounce of fat. He has a huge mass of food piled onto his plate, which he eats slowly, chewing every bite carefully.
As Hunter takes a bite of his food, he says, “This is Chrys. She’ll be in our cabin.”
“Chrys with a y,” I say.
“Hi Chrys,” Remy says. “My name is Remington, but please call me Remy.”
“Okay, nice to meet you Remington,” I say.
“I just told you to call me Remy.”
“Shouldn’t have told me your full name then.”
He laughs. His teeth are perfectly straight and white. “Fair point.”
I take a bite of grilled peppers and steak together. It’s been a while since I’ve had a hot, freshly cooked meal like this. It’s like heaven in my mouth.
“Remy is one of the coaches,” Hunter says.
“There are teams? Are they mandatory?” I say grimly, taking another bite.
“Don’t worry,” Remington says. “It’s just something to keep the little ones occupied and teach them to control their gifts. You definitely don’t have to participate.”
“Good,” I say.
“But we do have a kickball game tomorrow morning, so you’re welcome to come watch and cheer us on.”
“Uh, I don’t… cheer,” I say.
“Okay, then what do you do?”
I blink quickly a couple times. “I don’t… I don’t do anything.”
“No hobbies or anything?”
“Hobbies? I just spent the last couple of months on the run, looking for this place. And before that I spent all my free time looking into gifted people. What hobbies? Who has time for hobbies?”
Hunter puts a hand on my shoulder. It’s weird, so I shake him off.
“Remy has been here for a long time, Chrys, and he never had to search for the camp either,” Hunter says. “So excuse him. He doesn’t understand what it’s like.”
Remington’s face goes red. “I’m really sorry if I upset you.”
I peer at him. Is he blushing? Why is he doing that?
I sigh. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. How did you get here then?”
His face starts to lose its redness. “Shikoba,” he points to a man sitting
