Archie had swim lessons that morning, but he spent most of the time doing more internal gloating than actual swimming. He had no interest in sports, except as an opportunity to get some of his cons going, and today he was consumed with the idea that by this time tomorrow, Cupcake Girl was going to be out of his hair for good. His only regret was that he hadn’t been able to con her—he’d been too busy teaching her his little tricks. He hated to admit it, but she’d been an eager student, and there was something appealing about being able to show off all the gambits he’d figured out over the years to a willing listener. Oliver was fine and all, but he’d never been a truly worthy apprentice. A friend, and a confidante, sure, but sometimes Archie thought that part of it was more important to Oliver than the cons themselves.
Not that Vivian was all that worthy either. But she was closer than most. One drawback of being such an amazing con artist was that most of the kids never even realized how good he actually was.
Not that he cared what any of them thought.
“Come on, Walleyes, I need your full attention!” Tom, the counselor who taught swimming, was yelling from the side of the dock where he stood with a whistle around his neck and a frustrated expression. The campers approached it with wary distaste. The dock was creaking and old, with loose boards, and exposed nails and splinters ready to snag bare feet the minute you stepped onto it. (Tetanus shots were required to attend Camp Shady Brook, but few campers realized, until swim lesson time, how that was more than just a precaution—it was a flat-out necessity.)
Unfortunately, the dock was the only good way to get into the swimmable part of the lake—the beach, or what passed for one, should have been more accurately described as a marsh, it was so choked with weeds and mud. Wading through the squishy muck was something only a few hardy campers ever attempted, and then usually only once.
Julian, the boy from the camp store, sidled up next to Archie, who had almost forgotten about him in the hectic week of neutralizing Cupcake Girl.
“So, it really stinks what happened with the candy,” Julian said in a strangely formal tone, very different from their previous conversations.
“Um, yeah,” Archie said. His mind was on other things.
“But that’s okay, because you’re going to give me my money back, right?” Julian asked. “I mean, I never got to sell the other boxes of candy at all, and that CIT took the money we made from the first one, so it’s only fair.”
Archie stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
Julian glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “I paid you for that candy and then I didn’t get to sell it, and now I’m out of all my cash. At least you should give me half back. We were in this together!” His voice took on a pleading tone. “I was only selling that candy so you didn’t have to!”
Archie shrugged.
“Don’t you care at all?” Julian asked. “I mean, you’re supposed to be rich, and that was all my spending money, not just for camp, but for the whole summer at home, too. I’m going home tomorrow and I haven’t even been able to buy a decent T-shirt.”
Archie was surprised at his boldness. Usually the victims of his cons just realized they’d made a mistake and moved on, if they noticed they’d been had at all.
“I, er . . . ,” he said, his mind working quickly. The last thing he needed right now was a disgruntled mark going off to complain to one of the counselors, or worse yet, Miss Hiss.
“Of course,” he said with smooth confidence. “I wouldn’t want you to feel taken advantage of—not at all. I’m terribly sorry all of this happened. Let me just get the money together”—here he gave a vague look, as though the amount of money Julian was asking about was so inconsequential he wasn’t sure where he’d put it—“and then I’ll give it to you.” He smiled broadly at Julian, meanwhile making a mental note to avoid the kid like the plague until he got back on the bus.
But Archie still wondered if he’d been wrong in targeting Julian. Not just because of the complaints. But the fact that the boy was so worried about money, and that he’d only brought one pair of sneakers to camp, the ones that had gotten soaked in the lake—maybe he wasn’t one of the rich kids after all. Maybe after everything Archie had said about never targeting scholarship campers, he’d actually made a . . . mistake. But he shook that thought out of his head. He’d make it up somehow. He always shared his wealth a little bit with the other kids who had nothing. Maybe he’d pass out some candy bars this afternoon to make himself feel better. Or even stick to his promise, and send Julian some money—once he made up for all the lost time he’d spent training Cupcake Girl, of course.
Honestly, at this point Archie couldn’t wait for the buses to leave tomorrow. Those beautiful yellow buses, taking all of his problems away in a burst of exhaust and parking lot dust. It would be a sight to behold, he was sure of it.
• • •
At lunch, Oliver was on the serving line again. He hated working in the mess hall, which made his usual grumpy act all the more convincing. “We have a problem with Julian,” Archie whispered as he approached the line. He jerked his head toward the Bluegills table, where Julian was watching him carefully.
“Who?” Oliver asked as he stirred something that was either sauce or soup, it was hard to tell. Either way, it had a disturbingly yellow slick of grease covering the top that no amount of stirring could dispel.
“The kid with the candy bars,” Archie whispered impatiently. “The one you took the money from. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh, right. I knew that scam was a problem,” Oliver said under his breath. “Too risky.”
“But do you think he might tell Miss Hiss?” Archie hated feeling worried about something so inconsequential as a discontented mark.
But something about how upset Julian had been rattled him.
Oliver shuddered. Then he added, “Whatcha looking at, bonehead?” loud enough that three kids standing behind Archie in the food line looked up in alarm.
“Nothing, okay?!” Archie shot back. “Just give me my lunch and get off my back.”
The boys around him nodded in approval as Oliver dumped some pasta on Archie’s plate and then moved on to the next camper, as though they hadn’t spoken at all.
Archie eyed his plate with disgust. Pasta surprise. Again. Of course, the “surprise” part of the dish wasn’t much of a shock to most of the kids—it was the leftover vegetables from every dinner they’d eaten the whole week. He was pretty sure one piece of deformed broccoli that perched on top of the limp spaghetti on his plate was the same one he’d seen sitting in the hot tray two or three times already.
He took a seat at the far end of the Walleyes table with his unappetizing lunch, and tried to avoid the laser stare Julian was giving him from where he sat with his own cabin. This week was turning out much more complicated than he’d ever expected, but he had to keep his eye on the endgame. All he had to do was let Cupcake Girl run her little Field Day scam and then she and Julian would both go back on their buses and he could get back to his regular Camp Shady Crook business. The unhappy glares from Julian and his friends made him more uncomfortable than he liked to admit. He hoped he was wrong about his earlier hunch—no doubt Julian was just another rich kid who didn’t appreciate what he had, and to Archie, just another mark, whatever he’d said about that money being all his cash for the whole summer. He was probably lying anyway. And even if he wasn’t, now wasn’t the time to get soft, right?
Archie stirred his pasta around and tried not to think about Julian’s unhappy face. After all, he wasn’t at Camp Shady Crook to make friends.