Bookishly Ever After Read online

  The bag was definitely a pretty shade of teal with a grey flannel lining. I dug my fingers into the side of the roll and it was gloriously squishy.

  “Sold,” I said, dropping the bag into my shopping cart.

  Alec shook his head. “Teal? You’re picking by color? You two would die within seconds on that Survival reality show.”

  “But at least I’d die in my favorite color.” He rolled his eyes at me and I laughed. “You know, if you’re so into this stuff, why didn’t you sign up?”

  “I like survivalist stuff, not keeping a bunch of snotnosed little kids from killing each other in the woods for a week.”

  “They’re ten and eleven. I think they’re probably past the snotty-nose stage at this point,” Em said, grabbing a teal camp pillow and throwing it in the cart. “Okay, sleeping bag done. What’s next on your list?” We exited the aisle and I started heading towards rows that looked like they had even more camp-ish stuff.

  Alec stopped us, waving something he picked up off of an end cap. “Damn, a Swedish fire knife. That would be awesome. You have to get it.”

  Em snatched it out of his hands and started studying the back of the box. “What does it do?”

  “It’s a knife, but it also has a Swedish fire steel inside it. You can cut yourself out of bad situations and start a fire.” Alec took back the box and pet it like it was the One Ring.

  I shook my head and kept pushing the cart forward. “I don’t plan on needing to start a fire in the near future.”

  We were halfway into the next aisle before I saw him reluctantly put back the box and jog up alongside us. “What if you got lost in the woods and had to fend for yourself?”

  “This is Camp Sundew. Not the Arctic or the Serengeti. I’m pretty sure I won’t get lost.”

  He shook his head. “It’s your funeral.”

  “C’mon. I’m sure there are matches there. And when will I ever need to start a fire?” I gave Alec a grin. “And me, with a knife? Bad idea. But thanks, oh guru of camping.”

  “Somebody called for a camping guru?” A somewhat familiar voice came from behind me.

  I turned around slowly, trying not to let any of my surprise show. Kris was leaning against a wall of shelves, carrying one of those camp lanterns. I choked back my initial urge to hide. “Kris?”

  He glanced at my friends and full cart. “Getting supplies for camp?”

  Something had to be off in the universe—Kris talking to me more than once even though he didn’t have to? Marissa would totally use this as an opportunity to set the stage for future flirting success, like the scene in Hidden where she tried to distract Dan away from the mirror. I nodded and fortunately, Alec answered while I tried to reassemble my brain and come up with something coherent.

  “Trying to. Someone’s ignoring all of my legit survival advice.”

  Okay, Marissa always found some excuse to touch a guy’s arm and then play to his strengths. I reached out and tapped the hand Kris was using to hold the lantern.

  “Alec thinks I’m going to get lost. Maybe I should get one of those, too, so I don’t get stuck somewhere at night?” I felt stupid letting my hand linger a little bit longer than necessary, but I counted to two before pulling my hand back. My fingers still tingled slightly from the contact.

  “Nah, I’m just getting this because my flashlight sucks when it comes to lighting up the cabin. I’ve been camping in that place a million times. The paths are all well marked. It’s hard to get lost unless you really want to.” He smoothed back his dark hair, confidence practically pouring out of him, looking just like Aedan before a battle.

  I looked up at Kris, blinking in what I hoped was a cute way and let a slow smile spread across my face. Marissa would totally let the tiniest bit of breathiness enter her voice at this point. “You’ll have to teach me everything you know when you get the chance. I haven’t been camping in forever.” I copied his stance, trying to do that social mirroring thing Grace had mentioned.

  Em made a gagging motion behind Kris, but he didn’t notice. A smile spread across his face. “Definitely. It’s easy when you’ve done it a million times.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on volunteering because this won’t even be a challenge, but my pain-in-the-ass little brother is going this year and my parents want me to hold his hand. It’ll be nice to have some decent company, instead of hanging with just the football rejects and outdoor club granola people.”

  “Feebs, we have to go.” Em grabbed my arm and started pulling. “I think I’m about to vomit.”

  I turned to narrow my eyes at her before facing him again. “Um, see you later.” I waved in the most Marissaesque manner I could while tripping after Em and the others. As soon as we were down a different aisle and out of his hearing, I yanked myself free. “What was that about? Kris was actually talking to me.”

  Em let out an exasperated sound. “I can’t believe you did it again.”

  “Did what again?”

  “You were acting like…like some airhead and he was eating it up.”

  I shook my head at her. “I was not acting like an airhead. I was flirting. You should know a lot about that.” I looked to Grace for help, but she stepped back, holding up her hands.

  “It was pretty bad, Feebs,” Alec added, and I threw him a dirty look.

  Em nodded. “I could practically see his ego expanding.”

  I took a deep breath, my flirty high crashing down around me. Leave it to my friends to ruin what was one of the best moments of my junior year. I grabbed the cart handle and started pushing it towards the checkout. “Let’s stop talking about this, okay? I don’t want to argue.”

  I looked over my shoulder at Kris, who was disappearing into the hiking boot aisle, and he turned around just in time to wink at me. I hid my grin and picked up my pace. Maybe camp with Kris wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

  The Hidden House series book 2: Hiding PG 14

  Ignoring Cyril is physically painful, but I push through the feelings. We both agreed that this is the best way to keep sane. The impossibility of being in love with someone whose very touch could trap me in a mirror, or cause him to possess me, really gives us no other choice. But it still hurts every time I see his reflection in the house mirror.

  “How was school?” He asks in a guarded ‘friend’ tone when I crash into my bedroom and throw my backpack onto my desk chair13.

  I shift from foot to foot. Some girls break up with guys and only have to deal with them in the occasional class. Me, I have a ghostly ex-boyfriend trapped in my bedroom mirror. Thank God I took the bathroom mirror down, even though Cyril is way too Victorian to watch me change or anything. I grab an elastic off my dresser and yank my hair into a high ponytail. “Good.” I settle for the one word answer. Less chance of saying anything awkward-inducing14.

  “That’s…good to hear,” he says, sounding as lame as me. His eyes are guarded and I just want to reach into that mirror and touch his cheek, or push back his hair, or—

  I close my eyes and turn to grab my phone, taking a deep breath in the process. “I’m going to go study in the conservatory.” The only mirror-free room in the house, other than my bathroom. “Unless you need me for anything…” I trail off and wait. The uncomfortable tension in the room could choke a cat.

  Cyril shakes his head maybe a little too hard. “No, I will be perfectly fine. Go study.”

  I nod and escape with the tiniest of waves. By the time I reach the sunny conservatory, I can finally breathe again. I stare at the fainting couch mom had put in the corner and wonder if I can turn this mirror-free place into a bedroom15.

  36

  “Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with new ways to screw up in it?”—Kaylie, Cradled on the Waves

  “I’m sorry, but no knives. Trust me, there won’t be any chance that you’ll end up stranded in the middle of the woods and will have to do ‘survivalist things.’” One of the teachers told a student as I passed. “We’re going to Burlingt
on County, not the Himalayas.”

  I choked back a laugh and kept dragging my sleeping bag behind me until I reached the first bus, where we were supposed to meet our ‘managing teacher.’ A really younglooking blonde with short hair looked up from her tablet and smiled at me. “You must be Phoebe.” I blinked and she gestured at my bags before holding out her hand. I tentatively shook it, feeling weird the whole time. Teachers didn’t do things like shake hands. “The bow bag gave it away. We’re really excited to be able to have an archery module this year.” Yeah, this one was probably straight out of college. “I’m Mrs. Forrester and I’ll be advising you and the rest of the counselors. For the basics, I mean.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that or if I even had to, so I just nodded. “Okay.” I hitched my bow bag even more securely on my shoulder and stepped back, almost bumping into someone.

  “Watch it!” Came the voice from behind me and I turned, an apology on the tip of my tongue. One of Grace’s cheerleader friends, Cassie, squinted at me sleepily and shook her head. “Oh, Phoebe, it’s you.” She yawned. “It’s too early to have to watch out for people trying to step on me.”

  “Sorry.” I smiled sheepishly while moving sideways into an empty spot. “It’s too early for my brain to work.”

  “You’re telling me.” Dev joined us and my stupid, traitorous heart stopped beating for a second. Even in pajama pants with his hair sticking up all over the place in messy spikes, he looked hot. I blinked and tried to focus instead on his ratty grey duffel bag and the Echelon Cricket Club logo on the side. He must have seen me staring. “Sport of champions. It’s my dad’s bag. I suck at batting and bowling.” I just kept staring, feeling a bit dumb.

  “Cricket, like in Alice in Wonderland?” Cassie asked. She gave my foot a nudge.

  God, was I that obvious? “No, that was croquet,” I said, shifting my focus to her gratefully. Grace had good taste in teammates.

  I was saved from having to say anything when Mrs. Forrester blew a little whistle straight out of The Sound of Music to get our attention. “Counselors, now that you’re all here, just some quick basics. If you check out the packets we sent you, there should be a number on the top of the front page. That’s your cabin number.” I pulled the green folder out of my bag and flipped the corner down until the big number eight was visible. I breathed a sigh of relief. If the numbering meant anything, at least my cabin wouldn’t be the first for anything. While we shuffled through our packets, she handed out bags labeled with our names. I opened mine and pulled out a yellow polo shirt with Lambertfield Middle School logo stamped on the spot where there was usually a pocket.

  Mrs. Forrester cleared her throat to get our attention again. At least she wasn’t going to whistle at us all the time. “These are your uniforms. There should be three shirts in there, and there are laundry facilities at the camp. Whether or not you clean them is up to you, but you have to wear the shirts during all daytime activities at the camp. Also, a few ground rules. You’re here to help the students. No partying in the woods. If your significant other is here, no making out or whatever you kids do nowadays in the woods. First, poison ivy is awful if it gets there and second, we will call your parents if we catch you.” That got a snicker from some of the group. “Also, if you have a problem camper, you are to come to me for advice.”

  I unzipped my hoodie and pulled one of the shirts over my henley before shrugging back into my jacket. May mornings in New Jersey were still pretty cold.

  I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head, sucking in a breath as Dev, apparently heedless of the chill, pulled off his own shirt and replaced it with the polo. I sucked back a surprised gasp. He was fast, but not so fast that I didn’t get a full, unobstructed view of his bare chest for what were the longest few seconds of my life. I pulled my hoodie around my face to hide my burning cheeks.

  Cassie grabbed my arm and pulled me over to a redand-orange suitcase. “Can you help me stuff these in here? I barely got it closed this morning,” she said loudly. She gave me a sympathetic smile before bending over and unzipping the bag. “You’re so red,” she whispered, stating the obvious. “I thought you might want an out.”

  “Thank you,” I said, softly.

  “I’ve been there,” she said without looking up. “Ex-boyfriend or crush?”

  “Does ex-crush who thinks I just like him as a friend count?” I held the suitcase lid down while she tried to zip it shut. She hadn’t been exaggerating about it being overstuffed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kris hurrying our way, a younger version of himself in tow. I ducked my head so my hair covered my face. It was too early to even think of being cute and flirty. “And here comes my current crush.”

  Cassie looked up, screwing up her nose like a skunk had just walked by. “You mean Mr. ‘The Football Team Is a Bunch of Rejects?’’” One look at me and she smoothed her features back into a comforting smile. “Ugh. Think of the bright side. Chances are you and Dev aren’t co-counselors, which means you won’t see him most of the time. And maybe you and Kris might be partnered.”

  I looked over at Dev again, who was comparing his folder with some of the other guys. A burning feeling seared me down to my toes. I quickly tried to shift that gaze and feeling over to Kris. “That would be fantastic.”

  37

  By the time my sleeping bag and duffel were unloaded from the bottom of the bus, most of the counselors were already arranging on the far side of the parking lot. After passing the wall of teachers trying to organize all of the sixth graders, I looked up and my heart sunk. Kris was holding up a piece of paper with a big number two written on it while chatting with one of the girls from the outdoor club who had to be his co-counselor. Shoving my disappointment to the back of my mind, I kept walking, eyes scanning for my number.

  Dev stood under the number eight taped to the side of the camp parking lot fence.

  If this were a perfect world, I would have been able to break into frustrated tears then and there and no one would notice. I almost turned around to run back to the safety of the bus. Instead, I sucked in a deep breath and drew myself up, trying to look graceful and unconcerned as I swung my sleeping bag and dropped it against the fence. That thing was freakishly heavy. “This isn’t your number, is it?” That came out before I could stop it. I bit the inside of my cheek before I could say anything else.

  His expression was frustratingly unreadable. “You’re eight, too?” I nodded and he stepped aside to make room for me. “I guess we’re partners.”

  “I guess so.” The universe had a sick, sick sense of humor. I faked a smile to cover up the churning in my stomach and stood next to him with just enough space between us that I didn’t risk brushing up against any part of his body. “Go team eight?” I said halfheartedly, leaning against the wooden boards.

  “Ha, yeah. We’ll make a great team. Band geeks unite.”

  I rolled my head against the fence to look at him. “I don’t think it would instill a lot of hope in our campers if they heard you say that.” He laughed and a little of the tension seeped out of me. At least he didn’t seem to notice I was freaking out inside.

  Breathe. Deal. It was easy enough to politely avoid him at school, but here…not happening. I was a big girl and if Maeve could work alongside Aedan, I could counsel a few kids and shoot some arrows. I let my eyes slide over to Dev, who was checking his camp papers with an intensity that made the whole breathing thing stop working again. Easier said than done.

  While we waited for all of the kids to get sorted, I pulled out my cellphone, which was picking up barely a bar of signal, and started texting with my screen angled away from Dev.

  You will never guess who my partner is at camp.

  Em’s response was fast, as if she’d been waiting. Dev. No question mark. A sick realization dawned in me.

  I frowned at the screen. How did you know? I held my breath, waiting for her answer. Something simple like ‘lucky guess’ or ‘He already texted me.�
�

  Instead, I let Cooper know that you two would make a great team. You can thank me later.

  WDSFJIEWHFE!

  Huh?

  I’m going to kill you when I get home. I shoved my phone into my pocket and ignored the ping of three or four texts that followed. Great. Set up by my best friend. For five days. In the woods. Without real showers. At the same camp as Kris. This was going to be about as fun as the presidential fitness test in gym class.

  Dev looked over at me with that same odd expression. Maybe not so weird, considering I was the one ignoring my buzzing and ringing jacket. He opened his mouth to say something, but the rush of ten and eleven year olds coming our way stopped him. There was no way this was going to work. No way.

  “Okay. Dish.” Cassie said, coming up beside me, her bag bouncing on the bumpy dirt path to the mess hall.

  I looked up at her for half a second before focusing again on the ground. Between my sleeping bag throwing off my balance and tree roots, my odds of falling were high. “Dish about what?”

  “This ex-crush thing of yours. Bad luck with the group assignment, by the way.”

  That was the understatement of the millennia. Thankfully, Dev and my group were all the way at the front, yelling some kind of campy song. “Yeah.”

  “So, if you don’t mind telling me, why is Dev an excrush?” She plucked a dead leaf off a blueberry bush and shook it at me like an old lady wagging her finger disapprovingly. “And please don’t try to keep me out of the loop. I’ll get it out of you whether you want to tell me or not.”

  As much as I appreciated her save earlier, I didn’t feel like baring my heart to someone I barely knew. “He just wasn’t interested in me, that’s all. There isn’t really a story to tell.”

  “That sucks.” She pat my arm and added, “If this is really hard for you, we could ask to switch our assignments. I’m sure the teachers would be cool with it.”