“My type?”
He stood there with a drum in each hand like a weird version of Lady Justice with her scales in one hand and her sword in the other. “Yes,” he said, obviously not needing any more evidence in his case. “Your type—entitled, rich snob.”
I sucked in a sharp breath and tightly gripped the pedal in my hands. I wanted to chuck it at him. Say something equally rude back. But as it often did when faced with conflict, my brain went blank. He didn’t need a response; he finished his walk to the trailer.
It took me a second to realize the lead singer with his floppy brown hair and kind eyes was now standing in front of me, reaching for the pedal. It was obvious he’d heard everything and felt sorry for me. I thrust the pedal forward and he took it without a word; then they all drove away, the cymbals in the trailer clanking together over each bump.
That’s when I let out an angry breath. How dare he. One tiny misunderstanding and I was suddenly a snob? All the things I should’ve said when Brooks was standing in front of me now flooded my brain. “Useless brain,” I muttered.
I turned down the nearest path and started walking.
“Excuse me,” I called out to a girl with a name badge on.
She turned. Her tag said maricela. She had black hair and golden brown skin. She wore a pair of jean shorts darkened with the wet imprint of her bathing suit underneath. She must have been a lifeguard. “Hi, can I help you?” she asked with a big smile.
“I’m totally lost.” I had taken the path off the dining hall that I thought led to my cabin, but after twenty minutes of wandering past trees that all started to look exactly the same, I knew I had gone the wrong way. It may have been the gray of dusk now, but soon it would be pitch-black, and I had nothing but my cell phone flashlight.
Maricela squinted at me. “Oh hey, you’re Brooks’s friend, right? I saw you helping him with the drums in the dining hall.”
“Ha!” I reacted without meaning to.
“Is that a no?” she asked.
“Pretty sure Brooks hates me, and I’m pretty sure I’m answering for the sins of past guests.”
She smiled as if she knew exactly what I meant. “Well, this is his third summer here. He’s seen a lot and I’ve only heard a handful of the stories.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t judge all boys based on my jerk ex-boyfriend, so…” I trailed off, realizing that wasn’t exactly true. I’d sworn off all guys after finding out what Trent and Shay had done.
“Jerk ex-boyfriend?” she asked. “Do tell.”
I rolled my head as the same wave of pain I’d felt when Shay told me about the betrayal washed over me again. “Just home drama I don’t want to think about right now.” I sighed. “And now I have this drama with Brooks.” I closed my eyes. “I hate drama.”
She pursed her lips to the side, studying me for a moment, and then nodded as if deciding something. “Come on, I can help you resolve at least one of those. You two just need to talk. Brooks really is a nice guy and I’m an excellent mediator.”
“You want me to march into Brooks’s cabin and demand he talk to me?”
She laughed. “No. We have this staff campfire thing we do at night. You’ll like it.”
I wanted to say no because I didn’t feel like dealing with Brooks. But I was going to see him all summer. Just the thought of him standing up there every night at dinner, half-heartedly strumming his guitar while judging me, had me saying, “Okay.”
She led me down the path and up a hill. “What’s your name, by the way?” she asked after a couple of minutes.
“Avery.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Maricela.”
“Yeah.” I pointed to her name tag.
She laughed. “Oh right. I always forget about this thing.” She took it off and tucked it in her pocket.
“How many summers have you worked here?”
“Last year was my first.”
“So you’re not jaded yet?” I asked.
“I was born jaded,” she said with a single laugh.
We came to an Employees Only sign halfway up the path, and I hesitated.
She patted it and gave me a wicked smile. “Just don’t let Janelle catch you up here and you’ll be fine.” We kept walking.
“Who’s Janelle?”
“She owns the place. But she sticks to the main lodge and her fancy house up on the hill. She doesn’t slum it at the prehistoric employee cabins.”
I relaxed until she added, “Oh, and D. Don’t let her see you either. She’d probably tattle on you. But she works the front desk until nine.”
I slowed down. “Maybe I should just…”
She hooked her arm in mine. “No, no, we’re almost there.”
We passed several rows of older cabins—dark wood siding, water-stained windows—until we reached a clearing behind them. A large fire burned high in a brick-encircled pit, and at least twenty people, probably more, sat around in mismatched camping chairs.
Maricela pointed to a stack of pizza boxes on a picnic table. “Want some?”
“No, that’s okay. I just ate.”
She flipped open the lid of a box and took a slice.
“You all don’t eat in the dining hall?” I asked.
“Most of the time,” she said. “But sometimes we just want really good food.” She nodded to the picnic bench in front of the table.
I sat down and she joined me.
“Who has bug spray?” Maricela called out, slapping at her ankle.
A girl across the way tossed a bottle to her and she began spraying it all over her exposed legs like a misty shower of strong-smelling chemicals. I held mine out and she layered a coat on me, too, then passed the bottle back.
I looked around as she ate, and that’s when I saw Brooks on the far side of the fire, holding an
