“Are you coming down?” Hunter says.
I look down at Hunter, but avoid looking at Remington directly. I don’t want to see how he looks at me now, how his expression has changed.
“Let’s go to the cabin,” Hunter says.
I blink at him. He comes up the stage and pulls me away from the podium. He guides me down and away from the canteen. He holds my forearm and pulls me toward the cabin, Remington walking next to Hunter, and everyone else giving us a wide berth.
Chapter 9
Remington closes the cabin door behind us and relief rushes over me. No more people, no more talking, no more stares. Good. I can almost breathe again, move again.
“This is it,” Hunter says. He lets go of my forearm and shows off the room with a wave of his arm. “Pretty homey, huh?”
“Homey. Sure,” I say.
The cabin is quite large with horizontal wood paneling on the walls. There’s a simple chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, lit up now, and a fluffy burgundy rug below their feet. Another wooden door is at the far end of the cabin. The rest of the cabin is almost a mirror image—two sets of bunk beds, but instead of a bed on the bottom, there’s a desk underneath, and wardrobes next to the beds on each side.
There is, however, one distinct part of the cabin. On the bed closest to the door on the left side, jeans, tracksuits, shirts, even underwear—ew—cover the desk part and flow down onto the chair and floor. On the wall above the desk, there are drawings of people playing sports, maybe famous athletes. I wouldn’t know.
There are also large pieces of calligraphy saying stuff like: “The mind that is anxious about future events is miserable. -Seneca,” “Learn to be indifferent to what makes no difference. -Marcus Aurelius,” “Man conquers the world by conquering himself. -Zeno of Citium.”
On the left, the bunk bed furthest from the door looks unused. As do both beds on the right side of the cabin.
“Uh,” I say, “which one is yours, Hunter?”
Hunter turns to me with a dumbfounded expression.
Remington laughs behind me. “See dude? I told you.” He continues to chuckle as he walks past us to his bed and starts picking up the clothes and stuffing them in his wardrobe, unfolded.
Hunter points to the bed next to Remington’s. “That one. That’s mine. Isn’t it obvious?”
I look closer. I can’t see the top of the bed from down here but the desk and walls surrounding it are empty. Then I see something on the desk chair.
“Ah, yes,” I say. “Black backpack—so you.”
Hunter nods approvingly. “Exactly.” He gestures to the other side of the room. “So, this whole side is yours. Take your pick.” He points to the door on the far wall of the cabin. “And that’s the bathroom there. Make sure you lock the door.”
“Make sure you guys lock the door,” I say.
“Not making any promises,” Remington says, stuffing clothes into the drawers in his wardrobe.
I sigh and turn toward Remington’s back. “Then I’ll knock first. All you have to do is answer if you’re in there. Think you can handle that, Remington?”
Remington turns away from his drawers. For the first time since the meeting, I find myself looking him in the face. I didn’t mean to, but he just turned so suddenly. But he’s smiling, and his eyes look… amused I guess. I release a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
“Sure, I can handle that,” he says. “Do you think you can handle calling me Remy instead of Remington for crying out loud?”
“I can’t handle that, sorry. I don’t call people by nicknames,” I say.
I walk over to the bunk across from Hunter’s.
“But isn’t your name short for like Chrystina or something?” Remington says. “Isn’t Chrys a nickname?”
“No, my name is Chrys.” I point to the bed. “I’ll take this one. I don’t want to be near that storm over there.”
Hunter chuckles. “I told you to clean up.”
“That’s what I’m doing now, dude.”
“You call that cleaning?” Hunter says.
The two of them continue to argue about cleaning or something.
I stand in front of the bed, only now realizing I didn’t bring anything else with me. I just have the clothes on my back and what’s in my pants pockets—the gloves and the phone. I take them out of my pocket and put the gloves on the desk. I open the flip phone. 8:23. 72% battery. Two bars. So there’s still signal in here? I want to call Ron, but it’s best to save the battery until I can find a cord for it. I power it down and put it in one of the desk drawers.
I turn back to the two boys, who are silent now—Remington almost done dealing with his mess and Hunter digging through his backpack on the chair.
“Do either of you guys know where I can get… like clothes and stuff?” I say.
“Go talk to Elise tomorrow,” Hunter says. “She’s the supervisor of Cabin 1, but she’s also in charge while Li is away.”
“And don’t forget to come to the game,” Remington says, finally done moving all his clothes from everywhere to the drawers.
“Sure… A game. Sports. So fun,” I say.
“Do you have anything else to do, Miss No Hobbies?” he says.
“Well, I apparently need to find Elise. That’s something.”
“Elise will be at the game. All her kids are on my team. So, all the more reason to come, right?” He smiles.
I smile back, as pained as I can make it. “Okay, fine. I’ll go. So Hunter, will you—?”
“Me? Nah. I’m on kitchen duty in the morning. Washing dishes,” he says, almost happily.
“Lucky you,” I say.
“I can lend you some clothes for now,” Remington says.
“Are they clean?” I ask, climbing the ladder up to the bed.
“Some are,” he says.
I think about all the clothes he just stuffed into his drawers without any thought, probably mixing the dirty ones with the clean ones.
“It’s fine. I’ll just get some tomorrow,” I say.
“Suit yourself,”
