Page 79 of One Last Summer
“Are you going to answer, Mack?” I pushed. “Because Marla told me.”
Mack shrugged, a cool look on his face shutting me out. “So then what is it you want to know?”
“We talked about it,” I said, my voice rising, ice cream scooper whipping through the air as I gestured with my hand. “About you buying this place.”
Mack shrugged. “You talked about it, Clara. You never actually asked me about buying Pine Lake.”
“That’s not fair,” I said. “I was trying to tell you I believed in you.”
“Or maybe you’re just nostalgic,” he said, rubbing a hand along his chin as if he were a professor spewing some philosophical theory. “For this place, for the past. I mean, isn’t that what this is all about? Hanging on to a fantasy that will never be real?” he continued, gesturing around the dining hall.
“I think you’re talking about yourself, and why you dragged me into bed,” I said, scowling. “You just used me to distract yourself from Pine Lake closing, and your life changing.”
“Oh I used you? Really?” Mack dug into his pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper. The edges were frayed, liked it had been torn out of a notebook.
“I finished your friendship bracelet,” he said, tossing something small and green at me. “The one you threw out in the art barn the other night. I came by Sunrise to drop it off this morning, and this was on your bed.”
He was holding my camp list in his hand.
“You read my private stuff?” My heart was clawing its way out of my chest, and my voice was sharp and rising.
Mack leaned back in his chair like he was preparing to lob another grenade in my direction. “It was right on top of the letter you wrote yourself on the last night of camp, which I’m pretty sure you told us you never got.”
I glanced over at Sam, who was watching me with a hard, knowing look on her face.
Fuck.
He pointed his spoon at me angrily. “You’ve been checking things off like we’re just some items on your to-do list. Have fun? Check. Be with your friends? Check!”
“That’s not fair,” I started.
He scanned the group. “Did you guys know about this? I’m number seven on the list. Take a—”
A mix of hurt and embarrassment roared through me, so deep it felt etched into my bones. My shame over Amaya’s mid-party declaration of my burnout was nothing compared to this.
I grabbed the can of whipped cream in front of me before he could finish, and with a sharp press of the nozzle, I unleashed a stream of sticky white froth at his head, until he looked more snowman than human.
“Okay, it’s a food fight,” Sam groaned, pushing her chair out with a huff. “I’m Switzerland! I’m taking all your phones so they don’t get destroyed.”
“Sam, wait.” I moved to try to stop her, but a blob of something cold smacked my shoulder and slid down my arm.
“Oh, it’s a fucking food fight all right!” Nick shrieked with ecstatic abandon, dumping a bowl of cherries in Trey’s lap.
Sam grabbed our stuff off the table and made her escape onto the porch, but the rest of us were too far gone, full-grown adults sucked into this vortex of big feelings and personal confessions, with edible weapons within reach. Suddenly, it was mayhem, the kind of chaos that burst forth from your amygdala before the rational side of the brain could kick in and stop the worst from happening.
“Since we’re all being honest, why don’t you say what you’ve been wanting to say this entire trip?” Nick challenged Trey as he stood up from the table.
“Fine,” Trey said as he tore open the plastic box of cupcakes. “I want a break. From us. There, are you happy?”
He smashed a cupcake onto Nick’s shoulder and then turned and lobbed one at Mack, who was now dashing toward the back of the room clutching a bottle of chocolate sauce.
“It’s been obvious for months,” Nick hissed, reaching for a melting bowl of vanilla. “I keep trying to bring it up! Why can’t you ever just say what you feel?”
I was so caught up in the breakup unfolding in front of me that I didn’t notice Eloise creeping up behind me until something sticky shot against my neck, dripping right down the back of my shirt.
Swinging around with a gasp, I found her grinning with a bottle of caramel syrup in her hands. Behind her Linus stood staring in shock at his hands, which looked like they’d just been used to murder a family of Hershey Bars.
I charged over to a shelf near the fridge that held all the condiments placed on tables during the summer. A tube of ketchup sang out to me in all its bright red, staining glory, and it felt powerful in my hands, especially when I ran back and squirted it directly on Trey’s pristine white sneakers before turning my aim back to Eloise.
