Page 6 of The Bad Boyfriend Curse
I really don’t want to explain my family to these guys. “Yeah, let’s go with ‘or something.’?”
The guy with dark hair laughs and whispers something into the blond guy’s ear, no doubt about me, which makes the blond one laugh even louder. And makes Kennedy snarl again.
I exhale. Doesn’t seem like I’ll be finding my one friend in Cherrybridge here. Spending the summer with these kids is going to be torture. I hate my life right now.
Lainey suddenly claps one hand on her clipboard. “Okay, folks, we’re ready to get started,” she says. No one stops talking. She claps on the clipboard again, and again it does nothing. If I was back home, I would tell everyone to shush, but my self-preservation instinct tells me these kids will hate me even more if I do.
Finally everyone’s quiet, and Lainey beams. “Welcome to Cherrybridge Restores Our Parks, also known as the CROP program.”
“Or theCRAPprogram,” someone from the other table says loudly. Everyone laughs—except Kennedy. I’m pretty sure she’s still glaring at me.
Lainey ignores the laughing and commentary. “This is a joint venture between Cherrybridge Parks and Rec and Cherrybridge Youth Services. I’m Lainey Park, and yes, my last name is ‘Park’ and I’ll be working in a park all summer!”
I laugh because that’s funny, but no one else does. My laugh trails off as Lainey shoots me an appreciative smile.
“Anyway,” Lainey continues. “I’m a child-and-youth worker, and during the school year I work at Cherrybridge High, which is why some of you already know me. I’ll be here with you every day for the next five weeks, and sometimes Jeff Wiesner from Parks and Rec will be joining us. I know you don’t want to be here, but I hope we’ll still have fun this summer. And we’ll be making a difference for Cherrybridge! Anyone have any questions before we start?”
I have questions. Dozens of them, actually. I shoot my hand up, and Lainey points to me.
“If I get in all my community service hours early, do I still have to be here for five weeks?” If I work twenty-five hours a week, I can complete my sentence in four weeks instead of five. Maybe I can have at least a few weeks in Toronto before school starts.
“It is expected that all of you will be here for the whole program. Any more questions?”
Not the answer I wanted to hear, but I can deal. I want to ask if we will have any input on the landscaping design in the park, but Kennedy scowls at me when I start to put my hand up again, so I decide to keep that question to myself. I’m being too eager.
“Okay,” Lainey says. “I have one icebreaker to help you get to know each other. Tell us your name and three things that mean a lot to you.” She smiles at me, probably because I’m the only one who laughed at her park joke. “How about you start us off?”
I frown, thinking for a moment. “I’m Meera Noorani, and my friends, my camera, and my spreadsheets mean a lot to me.”
The guy sitting across from me raises one eyebrow, a gesture made even more impressive by the twin silver hoops in his brow. “Spreadsheets? Like… Excel?”
I nod. “Yes. I like charts. I’m organized.”
Kennedy finally makes a sound that’s not growling—she laughs at me.
I exhale. Lainey points to someone at the other table, for them to give their name and three things, but I don’t listen to him. This is already going so, so terribly. I rub my temples.
“I’m Noah Jacobs,” the guy across from me says when it’s his turn. “And what means a lot to me… my guitar, my band shirts, and…” He pauses.
Someone at the other table shouts, “Vodka!”
Noah turns to glare at the guy. “Shut up, Braden.”
“Okay, okay,” Lainey says. “Be respectful of each other. Noah, what’s your third thing?”
He looks down. “I don’t know.”
Lainey nods, then points to Kennedy. “You’re next.”
Kennedy shockingly smiles. “I’m Kennedy Ennis, and three things that mean a lot to me are Studio Ghibli movies, my cat, and my AirPods.” She holds up a white earbuds case with a familiar cat sticker on it.
Crap. Are those mine? I check my pocket, and sure enough, my new earbuds are gone.
“Those are mine!” I say. “She took them out of my pocket!”
Kennedy snarls at me. “Are you accusing me of stealing? Lainey, how can I be expected to sit next to someone who lies? These aremine. My dead mother left them to me in her will. Are you going to take my dead mother’s AirPods from me?”
The blond guy across from Kennedy laughs. “Her mom’s not dead. She works at the Foodland. And anyway, rich girl can afford new ones. Let Kennedy keep them.”
