Archie couldn’t stop smiling as the girl walked away. He wondered if she’d hurry off to her bunk to write to her parents and beg them to switch her to one of those other camps he’d mentioned—or if she’d just spend her time at Shady Brook carefully following the rules, leaving all the good targets to him. Either way, like most of the campers, she’d be gone in a week, long before she figured out that despite all the regulations at Camp Shady Brook, there were still plenty of opportunities for a kid as savvy as he was.
“What was that all about?” a low voice said over his shoulder. Archie spun around and found himself face-to-face with a large boy, probably only about fifteen years old but built like he was far older. He was wearing a bulky hooded sweatshirt that looked too heavy for the warm summer weather, with the hood up, and the kind of baggy cargo shorts that seemed to only stay up as if by magic. “Causing trouble already, Drake?”
“No,” Archie said, loud enough for the kids milling around to hear. “I’m just waiting for my luggage to come off the bus, like everyone else, Oliver.”
“And bothering the new girls,” the boy sneered. “Why don’t you do them all a favor and keep away from them this summer? They’re supposed to be here to see the beautiful wilderness, not your ugly face.”
By now a bunch of the kids who had been on Archie’s bus had gathered around, staring at the confrontation. But none of them seemed to want to come too close to the little scene that was playing out just out of earshot of the adults who were overseeing the unloading of the buses.
Archie took a deep breath. “You know, Oliver, if you keep bothering me I’ll be forced to talk to Ms. Hess. I don’t want to do it, but you leave me no choice.”
“ ‘You leave me no choice,’ ” Oliver said in a mocking baby voice. “I can’t get over the way you talk, Drake, it’s hilarious.” He reached out and gave Archie a not-so-playful shove.
“Don’t touch me,” Archie said, but his voice wavered. Then, standing up straighter, he said more firmly, “You’ll regret it, Oliver. I’m not putting up with this stuff anymore, not this summer.”
Archie reached out and grabbed Oliver’s sweatshirt, and got up close—right in his face, even though he had to look way up to see into the eyes of the larger kid. The audience surrounding them gasped. Was this going to be an actual fight? Just minutes after they’d all gotten off the buses from home? Where were the counselors? Why wasn’t anyone interfering?
Despite all the people watching, nobody noticed the small slip of paper that Archie tucked in the pocket of Oliver’s sweatshirt. It was a note, sharing the details of their first meeting that night during “Quiet Time” after dinner. But of course, their audience had no idea that they weren’t enemies, not at all.
Because that was the whole point of this little charade.
Oliver reared back from Archie’s touch like he was going to tackle the smaller boy, then deflated when he spotted one of the counselors coming around the side of the building toward the mass of campers. Archie pushed back a smile as he walked away. He was looking forward to meeting up with Oliver. It wasn’t something he would admit to anyone (least of all Oliver) but the boy who looked like the camp bully to everyone else was the closest thing he had to a friend, either here or at home.
“Hey, time to grab your gear and get your bunk assignment!” the counselor called, in that cheery, first-day-of-camp voice they all used. Archie didn’t know this counselor, but that wasn’t unusual. Shady Brook rarely had counselors—or campers—return for a second summer. He suspected working there was probably almost as bad as attending. Maybe even worse, since you had to deal with Ms. Hess as your boss and not just as the camp director. He sometimes shuddered to think what she would be like if she was paying your salary, instead of cashing your parents’ checks.
What most of them didn’t realize yet was that Camp Shady Brook was far from the beautiful idyll pictured on its brochures. That’s because most of the camp’s budget was actually spent on the brochures, which were admittedly magnificent—thick, glossy paper covered in photos of model-perfect children engaged in all sorts of fun activities. The director, Philomena Hess (usually called “Miss Hiss” by most of the campers and about half the staff), hired an ad agency to put it together at great expense. “Marketing is very important” is what she told the camp’s owners, an elderly couple named Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont, who rarely made it out to visit the camp anymore, much less get involved in the day-to-day activities. The Beaumonts had run the camp for years, until health problems had forced them to pass on the reins to a new director.
Miss Hiss used to be in charge of a whole chain of camps all throughout New England, until she was fired for reasons the campers, at least, did not understand. But her office was filled with awards she’d won in her last job, and pictures of her shaking hands with various elected officials.
But those days were behind her. Now she was the director of arguably the worst camp in Vermont, and she appeared to be personally committed to making it worse by the minute.
Truth was, Camp Shady Brook was a con bigger than anything Archie had ever come up with.
There wasn’t even a real brook, despite the name. The lake was fed by a man-made channel lined in concrete, and choked with weeds and sludge. It was about as close to a “shady brook” as a trip to the dentist was to Disney World.
(Archie knew the name was a marketing choice, made after Ms. Hess discovered that the lovely-sounding Native American name the Beaumont family had picked for their camp years ago from the local Abenaki language actually meant “Stranger go home.”)
The smiling counselor called out again to the crowd of kids, and Oliver melted away as the rest of the campers shuffled toward the pile of luggage and sleeping bags that had been thrown haphazardly in the dirt in front of the camp office.
A boy who had been on Archie’s bus came up beside him and leaned in to ask quietly, “Who was that guy?”
“Oh, that’s Oliver, he’s a CIT,” Archie said with a grim face. “Counselor-in-training—they help out with the younger kids,” he added by way of explanation. “But you really don’t want to get on his bad side, if you know what I mean. I made that mistake last summer.” He shuddered theatrically. It was at least partially true—two years ago, Oliver had caught Archie in one of his cons. What the boy didn’t know was that instead of turning him in, Oliver had become his partner in crime. And the closest thing he had to a real friend, but again, that wasn’t the type of thought Archie would ever share.
The boy gulped and nodded. This time Archie didn’t allow himself to smile, but internally he was grinning. At camp less than half an hour and he’d put off that cupcake girl as competition, arranged his first meeting with Oliver, and set in motion a couple of potential cons. Not bad for the first day. Not bad at all.