Chapter 14

 Complete Chaos 

Fourth of July Checklist

•••

The Fourth of July dawned with a mosaic sunrise of lavender, electric pink, and smudged-butter yellow. I stared at the clouds, my head craned back, enjoying the majesty of the mountains under such a sky. A perfect day to celebrate freedom.

After serving a successful breakfast of biscuits and gravy—only slightly congealed—I grabbed my phone.

Buttercream or whipped topping? Which one is a better frosting? I typed in a text to Lexie. Then I paused, thumb hovering over the screen. With a quick tap, I deleted her name and substituted Mom’s. Lexie and I hadn’t spoken since her betrothal—mostly my fault. She’d sent messages that I hadn’t responded to. My heart turned to flame every time I thought about giving her up to Bradley.

Silly Megan. Buttercream wins every time.

I yanked the fridge open while texting. We’re feeding 50 campers and 20 staff. Assume 3 hot dogs per male. 200 enough?

Yep. Mark alone can polish off 5 with chili.

Fresh fruit?

Nice try. How about potato chips?

Already bought, I replied, feeling smug. And a triple recipe of potato salad.

You are a wise woman.

I’m still setting out fresh fruit.

I grinned and set the phone aside. “Gonna be ready, blister?” Mark asked, speeding through the kitchen, a ring of keys jangling on his hip. “It’s going to be amazing. And complete chaos. Prep yourself.”

I gave him a thumbs-up, but he’d already left. I stood at the top of the kitchen, surveying my kingdom in anticipation. Three sheet cakes to whip up, frost, decorate, and cut. Potatoes and eggs to boil, peel, and cut. Hot dogs to assemble into a cooler. Fruit to slice. Lemonade to perfect. And, above all, watermelon to chill and then chop. I tied my apron strings in a confident, certain knot.

“Happy Fourth of July,” I said with a grin and grabbed a bag of flour. “Chef Megan is in the house.”

•••

That afternoon, campers scampered through the open meadow like chipmunks on caffeine. They swooped around with sparklers, trying to stab each other. Behind them sprinted harried counselors, desperate to avoid burns or flesh wounds.

I tossed a stack of paper plates on the end of the main picnic table. Food filled every open spot. I gazed at one of three perfectly frosted sheet cakes. On top, strawberries and blueberries formed the stripes of the American flag. To my relief, each cake had emerged from the oven fully cooked without a brown spot in sight. Maybe the stove was patriotic. Or my experiment with turning the cakes every seven minutes had paid off.

Sione, Justin, and Hollis conspired near the picnic table, speaking in hushed tones and glancing furtively at Mark. They held red solo cups filled with a tart but sweet lemonade.

“Our best bet is to hide firecrackers outside the outhouse and light the fuse when Mark is inside. He did that to me last year,” Justin said.

“What about putting poppers underneath the toilet seat so when he sits down they all pop?” Sione asked.

Justin shook his head. “Risky. Someone could go in before him. Also—do you want to be the one that lifts that toilet seat?”

Sione grimaced.

“There’s always the classic of lighting a chain of firecrackers and throwing them into his cabin.” Hollis laughed as if he’d told a joke. “Hurts every time.”

“You’ll have to do something more unique than that,” I said, flicking a pine needle off the table. Sione hooked a beefy arm around my neck and reeled me in.

“What do you have in mind, girl power?”

“Something original. Something he’s never seen before.”

Justin’s eyes narrowed. “That’s impossible. Mark has always been the prank champion. He knows all of them.”

“Something without fireworks,” I said. “He’s expecting them, so he’ll be on guard.”

“But it’s the Fourth of July.” Hollis motioned around with a sweep of his arm. “Of course we have to go with the theme.”

I shook my head. “I’m telling you—he’ll be expecting it.”

“She has a point,” Justin said. “We need to take him by surprise.”

“We could tape all his stuff to the ceiling.”

“Put a fog horn under his bed so it sounds when he lays down.”

They tossed ideas back and forth while I studied Mark. He played hacky sack with a group of five campers. The Clipboard of Power swung in his arm. He never lost sight of it.

Or let go of it.

“Or,” I drawled, “you could do something with the Clipboard of Power.”

All three grinned.

Hollis lifted a hand for a high five, which I supplied. “That’s it,” he said. “That’s the one. We’re going to mess with the Clipboard of Powah.”

The radio on Justin’s hip crackled. JJ’s voice echoed from Mark, Justin, and Sione’s nearby radios.

“Hey, gladiator, is Megan nearby?” JJ asked.

Justin pulled the radio off his belt. “Yeah,” he said. “What’s up?”

“I need to talk to both of you.”

JJ’s carefully controlled tone caught my attention. Justin met my gaze. “Where?”

“Staff tents. Oh, bring your Jeep keys.”

Justin fell into step with me.

“On our way.”

“Do your thing, gladiator.” Hollis gestured between him and Sione. “We got this.”

“Something happened,” I said, breaking into a jog. “Or he would have said why he wanted us over the radio.”

“Any chance this is a prank?” he asked.

“Yep. But we have to be sure.”

Ten heavy canvas tents raised on wooden platforms littered the forest south of my cabin. JJ didn’t need to be more specific when he said staff tents. I heard muffled groans as we approached and followed the sounds.

“JJ?”

“Over here!”

Justin and I arrived on the scene to find Troy lying on his back, his mangled right arm resting on his stomach. A broken bone in his wrist protruded against his skin, turning it white. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He clenched his teeth together with a moan of pain.

“Not a joke,” Justin muttered.

“Nice work, Troy.” I dropped to my knees at his side. “What happened?”

JJ bit his bottom lip. “We were, uh, debating who could climb higher up the tree. Technically, Troy won.” His gaze darted to the fractured bone. “And lost.”

“We need to splint it and get him to the ER. JJ, leave me your radio. Go to the medical cabin and find something to splint it with. Justin, discreetly tell Mark what happened and then bring your Jeep as close as you can.”

Like insects in the light, they scattered. While I attempted to make Troy comfortable and performed a quick assessment of the injury, the sounds of the celebration rang in the background. A minute later, Mark jogged up.

“Justin just told me. Oh, man,” he said, grimacing. “Troy, that looks terrible. Kind of awesome, but really terrible.”

Troy swallowed, his breathing strained. “Thanks,” he muttered, screwing his eyes shut.

JJ returned. He and Mark supported Troy while I splinted the broken arm to his chest. He paled while I secured it with a gentle knot. Seconds later, Justin pulled up on the other side of the trees, his tires crunching on the gravel.

“All right, Troy,” I said, standing. “Let’s get you to the ER.”

After making Troy as comfortable as possible, I reached to pull the Jeep door closed. Mark grabbed my arm. I met his intent hazel eyes.

“Hurry back, little blister,” he said. “You’re Adventura’s new medical officer now.”