Page 51 of That Summer Feeling

In that moment, I had grand plans to win it all. I’d already done the hardest part. I’d taken out Dara. I could charge the field and eliminate every player until only I remained. All gutsand glory. Balloon tag was ruthless, and I’d proven myself to be a dangerous contender. Everyone needed to fear me.

But Andrew—my supposed friend!—got me out with a balloon to the back.

“Really?” I said, giving him my bestet tu, Brute?

Andrew smiled. “A game’s a game!”

I dragged myself into the growing spectator section, the third person eliminated in as many minutes.

The remaining numbers dwindled quickly after that. Red ended up as the first team with every player eliminated, securing their last-place position. Green Team got out next. Eventually there were only two players left on the field—Julianne’s husband from Yellow Team. And Marge. Our secret weapon.

“He knows she’s not fast,” Julianne whispered to all our eliminated Blue Team members. “I never should have told him that.”

“Good lesson here,” Aja said to us. “Keep internal details to ourselves. They might matter more than we think.”

Julianne’s husband charged Marge.

Right before he launched his missile, Marge pulled a paint balloon out from under her shirt. She smashed it to her stomach in an act of protest, eliminating herself before the other balloon reached her.

“Wow. She really does loveThe Hunger Games,” Stevie whispered.

23

You’re not dismissed,” Tim announced after the referees read us the updated rankings. He moved away from his Green Team members until he faced our makeshift spectator section.

Tommy gently nudged my shoulder so he could skirt past me and join his twin. They stood beside each other with matching mischief on their faces, desperate for one of us to ask what was going on.

“What’s going on?” I called out, letting it be me.

“We can’t tell you that!” Tim teased. “But all of you need to meet us at the mess hall in about an hour. We have a surprise for you.”

“We’d love to tell you more, but that would ruin the surprise forallour campers,” Tommy explained. “So we ask that you head back to your cabins and put on your best daytime attire. No athletic clothes necessary, unless you want to wearthem, of course. Or sport your paint splatters to remind everyone what you sacrificed on the field today.”

After the laughter faded, chatter grew. The crowd walked toward the cabins in a tizzy. Everyone was gossiping, asking some version ofWhat’s going on?

“It’s definitely visitors’ day,” Frank said, loud enough for most campers in his vicinity to hear.

“So much for a surprise,” someone else snipped back.

“Visitors’ day like our parents are going to appear here with snacks and hugs?” I asked Stevie. The title of the event did seem pretty self-explanatory, but I was positive I would keel over and die if my mom or dad appeared in the middle of the woods in Georgia, of all places.

Stevie snickered at me. “My parents absolutely will, yes. It can be anyone, though. Visitors’ day is open to all friends and loved ones. It’s not really a secret if you’ve been to camp before. Sorry if you like surprises. Hope Frank didn’t spoil it.” Stevie looked at her brother chidingly.

“I do like surprises,” I said, wrapped up in her for a moment. “But I appreciate the heads-up on this one. It helps me manage my disappointment. There’s no way I have anyone here to visit me.”

“The old owners used to make it their business to make sure every camper had a visitor,” Stevie said. “We used to joke that they hired private investigators to find everyone a guest.”

“It was probably the birds.”

“Shit,” she said, grinning. “You’re right.”

“If either of my parents are here, it’s because someone hasgotten married or died nearby,” I told her. “They haven’t left Arizona in three years. Since my wedding.”

“Maybe a friend will come to see you.” Stevie said it without a trace of doubt. As if I had dozens of eligible friends eager to arrive in the Georgia wilderness for a day just to see me living my best summer-camp life.

“Maybe,” I said, drifting off. She could believe the best of me a bit longer. I didn’t want to spoil the joy of the occasion by convincing her that no one was coming for me.

Her hand found mine as we broke off from the larger group. Other campers who passed us clocked the gesture and reacted with a mixed energy. Some people gave thumbs-up. Others did a double take. It was fun to take people by surprise.