Sorry for the millennium long wait! Next chapter coming soon

THE RIVERA ESTATE

ALICIA'S ROOM

5:45 P.M.

For a daughter of a wealthy lawyer's, summer camp was pretty much the equivalent of Chinese water torture. Not only summer camp—public summer camp. She had received a C- in math, but she could still add this up: Public summer camp + millionaire's daughter + no designer stores + no Starbucks for the last week and a half of freedom = disaster.

She'd wanted Massie's help packing, but Massie had apparently been "otherwise occupied," probably with her stupid job at the stupid stables with stupid Chris Abeley. Alicia picked up this month's Teen Vogue and chucked it across the room. She could taste the fury on her tongue and it was bitter, sour and bland. Alicia huffed and gathered her silky smooth raven hair up in a huge pile on her head, exhaling and scanning over the contents of her two RL plaid suitcases. Her father had told her to pack light—two bags. This counted, right?

Alicia dropped her hair and pulled the lid of one of her suitcases. It was far heavier than she expected, and she yelped and drew her hands back as the lid bashed down, narrowly missing her dainty fingers. She growled at the narrowly-missed pain and closed the lid on the other suitcase, but the silky clothes spilling over the sides was making it extremely difficult. She gasped as her Stellas started choking under the weight of the lid. She carefully refolded then tried agagin, this time lifting her feet off the ground and plopping down denim-covered-butt first on the lid. Her perky bum moseyed around and she smashed at the lid with her weak fists. She tried to stand up and jump, but ruled that out as a bad idea. Alicia continued to struggle until she realized she was not alone in the room.

Blood rushing to her cheeks and sweat accumulating under her arms, she leapt off the lid and spun around. Josh was leaning against her wooden door frame, arms crossed over her his unbuttoned plaid shirt. He had a cotton white tee shirt underneath and was wearing the cute knee-length Diesel jean shorts that Alicia had bought him for his birthday. His wavy brown hair was peeking out from under his Yankees cap.

"Um, you didn't see all that… right?" she asked hopefully.

Josh just smiled, seemingly entertained. "Of course not," he assured her, but the coy smirk on his cherry red lips indicated otherwise.

"Oh." She blushed harder. "Who let you in here?" It came out blunter than she expected. She felt the sudden urge to check her reflection to make sure her lips were still freshly glossed.

"Your dad," Josh replied. He stood in the doorway with his hands awkwardly buried in the pockets of his distressed shorts.

"Well, don't just stand there!" she demanded, "Make yourself useful and help me!"

"All right," he smirked and crossed her huge bedroom. As soon as he set floor on the plush carpet, he gazed around at his surroundings. The mirrors on the wall… the pictures of Spanish celebrities… the makeup strewn across vanity desk, and the purple laptop on her pillow, decorated in Spanish flags and stickers of Spanish phrases.

Alicia panicked. "What? You froze all of a sudden."

"I'm just… in your room."

"Nice observation."

"I've never been in your room before."

"What? Is it weird?"

"No. It's nice, just… different."

"Well, get over yourself!" Alicia stamped her foot in mock frustration. "I have to pack for this dumb camping trip."

"Don't be so negative." Josh teased. In a sing-song voice he added, "I have something to tell you!"

Alicia's chocolate brown eyes lit up immediately. If there was one thing she loved more than gossip, it was gossip from Josh.

"What?"

"I'll tell you after we close your suitcase," he said, flattening some of Alicia's several tops and shorts deeper into the overflowing suitcase. "Jeez, you're just going to the camp for like, ten days, Leesh."

"Ten days is like a thousand bajillion years!" In her head she though, rather pathetically, "and you won't be there, which makes it a million times worse."

Josh clasped his fingers around the suitcase as Alicia looked on. He managed to pull the lid down almost completely, but it wasn't quite shut. "Why don't we just take some of this out?"

"Are you crazy?!" Alicia gasped.

"Well, then, help me!"

Alicia rolled her eyes and rolled up the sleeves of her burgundy v-neck shirt. She shoved him aside a little with her shoulder to settle beside him, and seized the plastic handle.

"Oh, good idea." Josh dropped his fingers from the underside of the case, and Alicia let out a short, high-pitched squeal, stumbling under the weight.

He jerked towards her and grabbed the handle, his hands totally overlapping his. Their fingers intertwined. Alicia felt a thousand volts of electricity speeding up and down her body.

"Ok, one, two, three, PULL!" Josh and Alicia yanked down on the case in perfect unison, but Alicia's excessive wardrobe rebelled and the case refused to close. They kept pulling until they were leaning over completely, and with a quick SMASH, the case slammed shut. Josh and Alicia tumbled to her floor and landed on the carpet, panting.

Then Alicia burst out laughing. She covered her stomach with her hands and her face went bright red. Her eyes stung. Josh cracked up too, but probably more at his insane-looking girlfriend than the suitcase incident.

Josh sat, crossed his legs, and watched in amusement as Alicia tried to contain herself. When she sat up, strings of her hair were caught on her lip gloss. Her cheek flared red, but she'd been unable to control her laughing attack. Everything she did with Josh was ten times more fun.

Alicia lifted her hand to brush her hair away, but Josh was there first. He ran his finger underneath the strands of hair, softly brushing her face with the back of his hand. Alicia felt her cheek tingling under her skin, and the sensation progressed down her arms and legs. He tucked her hair behind her ear and inched closer to her. They were both kneeling on the carpet, nose-to-nose now. Alicia's breath started speeding up.

His hand still resting lightly on her cheek, Josh said, "You're hyperventilating."

"Am nawt."

The next moment he was kissing her. Their knees were touching, and Alicia's hand slowly rose to mirror Josh's position—one hand on his cheek. He carefully placed his hand on her leg; very nervously, and just his fingertips skimmed the surface of her jeans. Still, the motion sent chills down Alicia's spine. She felt her cheeks getting redder, but their lips were still locked together, and their eyes were closed. Alicia removed her hand from his cheek and instead wrapped both her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer. Josh pulled back for a moment to gaze into her eyes.

"You are too hyperventilating," he breathed.

"Shut-up," she giggled.

For a wonderful moment, Alicia forgot all about this camp torture her parents had inflicted on her. Stupid Skye. Stupid Parents. Stupid, stupid, stupid camp! Why couldn't she just sit with Josh for the rest of her days, in this exact position?

She realized Josh removed his hands from her waist and she dropped her tight grip around his neck, pulling away. "Problem?" she asked.

"My phone," he murmured sheepishly. "Kemp's texting me." He seemed a little dazed, still floating in the clouds from their moment.

Alicia's head was also still spinning from their lip-kiss.

"I don't have to take it," he told her, staring at her lips.

Alicia was about to agree, but her own cell lying on the ground beside her began to quake. "I guess I should get that too." Her heart sank—the moment was over. She grabbed her phone and checked her messages in unison with her boyfriend.

DYLAN MARVIL: OMG, CAMP 2MORROW. KILL ME NOW.

DYLAN MARVIL: SERIOUSLY. SHOOT ME.

I would, thought Alicia, for interrupting that lip- kiss.

ALICIA RIVERA: OMG. SAME. I JUST FINISHED PACKING.

DYLAN MARVIL: HOW MUCH?

ALICIA RIVERA: 2 SUITCASES

DYLAN MARVIL: OMG UR PACKING LIGHT

Alicia couldn't tell if that was sarcasm. She decided to ignore it and type, YEA. Then she slid the keyboard back into her phone and tossed it aside, waiting for Josh to finish his text. He was so slow texting—it was weirdly ah-dorable.

He finished, dropping his navy blue cell into his back pocket. "I should go."

"Oh," Alicia said, her face falling slightly. "Ok." She realized that this would be the last time she'd see him for two weeks. What if he forgot about her and met someone else? Hopefully their lip-kiss had ensured she'd stay in his memory for the next couple weeks. He stood and then helped her up.

"Bye," she said in a small voice. She didn't really know what else to say without an imaginary Massie shaking her head and clicking her tongue, "Sheesh, Ah-licia, desperate much?" But she couldn't just let him leave without letting him know that she wanted him to be there with her. How could she phrase it so that she could tell him how she felt without sounding like a clingy girl who couldn't last on her own?

"I'll miss you," she blurted. It was good enough—maybe he'd accept it as a simple good-bye.

"I'll miss you too," he assured her, a smile playing on the corners of his mouth. "But you'll see me soon enough."

"Ten days isn't soon enough," she insisted, shaking her head. "Promise you won't hang out with any pretty girls while I'm away?" she lifted her voice a little, hinting she was joking, but in reality, she was freaking out. She couldn't take it if Josh met another person—ehmagawd! What if he started hanging out with Duh-livia? It happened to Cam… Alicia had to shake the thought out of her head. Josh was way too good for Olivia. But then again, Skye was back and she wasn't getting punished.

Josh took her hand and jarred her back to reality. "I promise."

Alicia had forgotten what she'd asked before because her thoughts were racing so fast. She just smiled and nodded like she knew what he was talking about. "Good. Uh, I guess I'll see you in two weeks?"

Josh stepped forwards and stole a quick kiss from her lips. Alicia had been so surprised she hadn't even kissed back. He grinned and dropped his Yankees cap on his head. "Two weeks," he said.

Then he turned around and left.

Once he was gone, Alicia's bit her lip in frustration. She dashed over to her bed and glared murderously at her suitcase. She grabbed one of her pillows and chucked it across the room. Stupid, stupid, stupid camp!

THE MARVIL'S MANSION

THE KITCHEN

4:45 P.M.

Merri Lee Marvil sat leaning over the kitchen island's marble counter, dramatically sobbing into a worn copy of Westchester Daily. A crumpled picture of one of her rivals, Tanith Bruce, was slowly melting away on the front. Her red hair was clinging to her sticky, mascara covered cheeks. She fed herself a scoop of ice cream and murmured for the umpteenth time, "My own daughter—a criminal!"

"Mom, for the last time, I am nawt a criminal! Skye was totally asking for it! It wasn't my fault. I didn't mean to shove her into the garbage cans—she just fell—"

With another hiccup from her mother, Dylan's heart sank. Her arguments were meaningless. Her mother was more concerned about her reputation than her own daughter's well-being. Dylan scoffed, leaning forward on the bar stool and tracing random scribbles in the countertop. "Mom, please, just hear me out…" she tried helplessly. "I know Ah-licia's mom told you that this is best, but is sending us to camp really helping?"

"It must," her mom croaked, "I don't want the public thinking I'm raising a hooligan."

"Mom! Listen to yourself!" Dylan almost laughed and how ridiculous her mom sounded. Then again, certain magazines had ways of, well, making something sound ten times worse. Dylan could see herself in the pages of Us Weekly: "Talk Show Host's Daughter a Vicious Criminal! Beats Innocent Bystander! Problems at Home are to Blame!"

"I am listening to myself, Dylan, and I've decided that camp is clearly the best option. I'm sending you there tomorrow. Perhaps you should start packing."

Dylan's eyes stung. "Mom," she reasoned hopelessly, "This is the last week and a half of summer vacation we're talking about. Freedom. You're going to take that away from me because of a little girl spat? Seriously—Skye is evil!" She tried to make her eyes glow so her mother would see the passion she felt of this subject.

"Evil or not, you shouldn't have resorted to violence." Merri-Lee sniffed.

Dylan groaned and threw her head back, letting her long red hair whisk back and forth and she stretched her neck. "Mommm…" she tried again.

"No more 'mom!' Now, get to your room and start packing, young lady." Merri Lee stood, firmly staring down her daughter. "I do not,I repeat, do not want any more of this foolishness."

Dylan opened her mouth to protest, but thought better. She closed her lips, stood up off her stool, and let her lower lip quiver. She made sure her mother saw the tears in her eyes before she stomped out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

ALICIA'S LIMO

BACK SEAT

4:00 P.M.

MASSIE: HOW'S CAMP?

ALICIA: NOT THERE YET. FML. KILL ME NOW.

MASSIE: SUCK IT UP! I'M CLEANING STABLES HERE

ALICIA: LOL GOOD POINT

MASSIE: WUTEVS, SHOULD I MENTION I HAVE THE GUYS?

ALICIA: JUST MAKE SURE JOSH DOESN'T MEET OLIVIA OR SKYE

MASSIE: DON'T WORRY SKYE = NO PROBLEM. LEAVE IT TO HER TO MESS UP EVERYTHING.

ALICIA: CAN U IMAGINE WE USED TO THINK SHE WAS COOL?

MASSIE: U MAYBE, I ALWAYS KNEW SHE WAS AN LBR AT HEART.

Alicia smirked and started to punch in a response, when her phone blinked for a moment. The limo's wheels rolled unsteadily over the gravelly terrain, and Alicia rocked in her seat. Her phone's screen kept blinking, but she quickly typed in a quick response to Massie and hit SEND. Immediately her a message appeared on the screen: ERROR. MESSAGE ABORTED.

"What? What the heck does 'aborted' mean?!" Alicia gasped, quickly punching random buttons in hope for an answer. Suddenly the answer flashed across the screen and might as well have slapped her across the face.

NO SERVICE AREA.

"Nooo!" Alicia shrieked, frantically holding her cell up to the ceiling. She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid to the front of the car to protest. "Turn around!" She yelled at her family's driver, Dean. "We have to go back!"

"Why? Did you forget something?" He glanced over his shoulder for a moment, and then returned his attention to the winding forest road ahead of him.

The car shivered again and Alicia nearly lost her balance. "NO! My phone doesn't get service here! We have to go back!"

Dean chuckled. "Buckle up, Miss Rivera."

"This is an outrage—" Alicia was about to scream, but she contained herself. She pouted and practically threw herself back into her seat in a huff. She stubbornly yanked the seatbelt across her huge chest and snapped it securely in place. "I can't believe this!" she moaned to no one in particular, shooting angry glares at Dean at every opportunity.

He didn't seem to notice, or he was doing a very good job of not caring. He merely adjusted the rearview mirror so that he wouldn't have to watch Alicia pout in the backseat and kept the limo on a steady track.

The vehicle rattled again. Alicia rolled the window down and shoved her head into the blustery air. She immediately was force-fed a mouthful of her own hair, and spit it out. Her long black ponytail flapping behind her in the wind, she strained her eyes to see a huge sign sprouting out from the tall treetops.

CAMP EVERGREEN.

"How cliché," she moaned, slipping back into her seat and rolling up the window. She held up her phone listlessly and was unsurprised when it read, NO SERVICE AREA once more. She chucked it across the seat in frustration.

"I'll give you two hundred dollars if you turn the car around right now," she tried.

"You can't bribe me, Miss Rivera."

"I bet I could," she murmured indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping down in her seat.

Alicia was jostled around in the back seat for the next five minutes as the limo rumbled into the drop-off zone of the pitiful camp. She scampered up so that nobody could notice her bad posture and rolled down the tinted window, examining her prison for the next week.

The entire camp brought The Parent Trap to mind. There was bark mulch and grass covering the ground. The drop-off zone was crowded with kids bidding farewell to their parents and camp counselors with oversized t-shirts running around with clipboards trying to contain the commotion. A large bark mulch path led up to a huge wood cabin, which read, Mess Hall in carved letters. Beside the Mess Hall was a slightly smaller series of cabins, each with a big painted number on the door. The cabins were in a messy row, like dominoes someone was too lazy to line up properly. The cabins led from the mess hall straight to a very isolated area with a huge field with grass that would reach Alicia's hips. Behind the field, there was a bowl of trees holding them in. The only thing that showed they weren't trapped in the forest that never ends was a good sized lake on the other side of the mess hall. There was a long pier that led away from the camp and split into a fishing dock, where several small canoes, kayaks and speedboats were perched. A bunch of boys Alicia's age were running around in their bathing suits, pushing each other off the dock and acting like idiots. Across the lake in plain view, was a setup almost identical to Camp Evergreen. The camp across the lake had a huge cloth sign that she couldn't make out, but it looked like it read BSC.

The shirtless guys were the only thing that brought a slight pinch of hope to Alicia's tossing insides. She reluctantly pushed the door open, and made one last desperate pitch to Dean.

"Three hundred," she bargained.

"Miss Alicia," he warned.

Alicia groaned inwardly, knowing a lost cause, and pulled herself from the car. All of the kids were wearing simple t-shirts and jeans, and everyone stared at her as if she was from another planet in her high-waisted skirt and white RL t-shirt, with a long black necklace dangling from her neck and her hair pulled up in a long ponytail. Her long legs were complimented by a simple pair of purple Marc Jacobs flats that added a splash of color to her outfit at the ankles.

She hadn't realized Dean had come up from behind her until he tapped her shoulder and she jumped. He was holding her two suitcases and it looked like his knees were about to give in. He placed it on the ground beside her petite feet--perfectly turned out in fifth position--and then patted her shoulder.

"Have fun, Miss Alicia."

"Are you kidding me?" she gasped. "You want me to carry this in?"

"Would you like me to come with you?"

"No," she answered almost immediately. "Sorry," she added quickly. "I can just get help from a counselor," she lied. "Have a nice ride back." She bent over and picked up her suitcase in one swift move.

She thought her arms were going to fall off, still clutching the handle. Dean tipped his hat, gave her an assuring pat on the shoulder, and climbed back into the limo. She tried to wave good-bye, but if she let go of the case she feared it would fall on her toes. Alicia would have wanted some help finding where the heck she was supposed to go, but she opted to go by herself. If she didn't plant an image of herself as a cool, independent individual, the next week would be more torture than it had to be.

As soon as Dean steered the limo away, down the winding road, and out of sight, Alicia's shoulders slumped and she caved in. Her suitcase hit the ground with a thud and she stood there in defeat before she realized that she was drawing attention. She wanted to run away and hide in a corner, curl up in the fetal position and complain until she was picked up next week, but instead she held her head high, pushed her suitcase out of the drop-off area, and just bawled deep inside instead.

CAMP EVERGREEN

4:30 P.M.

THE PARKING LOT

"Kuh-laire!"

Claire whipped her head around, trying her best to maneuver herself out of the flurry of confused teens. The familiar voice filled her insides with warmth, and she elbowed her way through the messy party of rowdy boys and girls.

She had to yell over the screaming, but she managed to catch Kristen's eye and lumber of her to her, lugging a heavy duffel bag over her shoulder. Kristen looked similar to Claire, holding a soccer equipment bag that was strapped across her back, only Kristen looked about ten times more chic in gladiator sandals, dark denim Bermudas and a flowing summery yellow top covered with the Roxy logo. Her hair was tied back and held down with a thin yellow hair band. Kristen violently moved through the crowd and stumbled to Claire, panting.

"Have you seen Dyl or Leesh?"

Claire shook her head and Kristen whimpered. "Can you believe this?" Claire asked. "I can't even tell where I'm going."

"What cabin number are you?" Kristen asked immediately. Claire shrugged, so Kristen carried on, "I think Leesh's dad got us in the same cabin—I'm number fourteen. C'mon, let's go check."

Kristen grabbed Claire's wrist and forcefully dragged her through the bustling crowd until she almost ran head-on into a tall blonde young man. He looked like a twenty year old, but his good looks made Claire flush immediately. "Um, uh…" she muttered helplessly.

"Cabin number," Kristen said grouchily. She clearly wasn't enjoying herself, and she was staring at the handsome guy grimly.

He looked a little alarmed, so he quickly asked, "Ok… name?"

Claire opened her mouth to respond, but Kristen broke in: "Claire Lyons."

"Ok…" he flipped helplessly through several slips of pink paper, "Lyons… Lyons… is that spelled—"

"L—Y—O—N—S." Kristen added an indignant, "Gawd."

"Ok. Um," he started getting flustered by the frisky soccer player. It probably didn't ease his nerves when she crossed her arms and started tapping her foot. "Um, cabin fifteen?"

"Are you sure about that?" Kristen barked.

"Oh. Um, sorry, fourteen." He thrust the pink slip of paper at Claire, and she took it gingerly, smiling apologetically on Kristen's behalf.

"Good." Kristen flashed him a slight smirk, but it was clearly forced. "C'mon, Kuh-laire." She snatched Claire's wrist again and lugged Claire along. Claire stumbled to get her footing.

Kristen rambled on while she tugged Claire down the crowded path, "I was all set to spend the last week of holidays with Dune, you know, surfing, playing soccer?" She didn't wait for Claire to answer. "And now because of stupid Skye Hamilton—" she reached out and whipped her arm up towards the overhead pine tree, sending a shower of needles on the group behind them.

"Sorry!" Claire called, jogging into step with Kristen, who was stomping away from the wave of angry calls from some of her campmates.

"—I'm stuck here. And Dune's not even here. Can you believe that? What if he meets someone else? Not only that, I don't even get to practice soccer for the tryouts with Kemp. This is so dumb."

"Um, Kristen?" Claire whimpered.

"What?" Kristen skidded to a stop and whirled around to face her friend. Claire pointed sheepishly to her reddening wrist, Kristen's white knuckles completely swallowing it with rage. Kristen stiffly released Claire, and Claire collected her wrist, quickly tucking it into her navy blue AE hoodie's pocket, as if protecting it.

"Sorry," said Kristen.

Claire nodded lightly to let Kristen know it was ok. She followed Kristen to cabin fourteen in silence now, and she let her thoughts drift to Cam—where they always ended up. She wondered what he was doing at that moment. With a wistful smile, she decided he was thinking about her. Maybe he was too counting down the days until he could see her again. Unfortunately, the camp didn't get any service, as it appeared, so she'd be cut off from contact with him until she was picked up.

Kristen finally came to an abrupt halt in front of a large log cabin that read 14 in big white carved numbers. The door was slightly ajar, so she stamped up the stairs and shoved through the doorway. Claire followed reluctantly, and was welcomed into a large room. She was immediately slammed with a musty smell, like nobody had been in this cabin for ages. The floorboards were chipped and creaky, and the room was entirely empty except for two sets of bunk beds lined up on the left wall. The right wall had two windows, the only source of light in the room except a flickering light bulb on the ceiling.

Claire dumped her duffel bag on the ground and saw that there was also a tiny bathroom included. Claire stepped inside the washroom, and realized that she could barely turn around. There was a sink on one side of the wall and on the other a small toilet on the other side. Claire immediately turned and escaped the room, slamming the door behind her and vowing to never go in there.

She hurried across the empty room to Kristen, who had already claimed her top bunk and was taping a picture of Dune over of her pillow.

Kristen noticed Claire staring at her, and peered down at her friend. She offered Claire a slight smile. "Let's just survive the week, ok?"

Claire nodded—but she didn't know if that was a promise she could keep.

CAMP EVERGREEN

DROP-OFF AREA

4:30 P.M.

"Excuse meeee," Dylan cooed as sweetly as she could, trying her best to get the attention of one of the counselors. She'd just been dumped here by her mom, and was fighting the urge to burst into a tantrum. Lugging around a huge leather suitcase, she'd found herself in a line to talk to one of the twentysomething girls who were addressing everyone, telling them which cabin to go to and such.

"Yes?" one of the girls asked, turning her head in Dylan's direction.

"Hi, I was just wondering what cabin I'm in?"

"Your name?" the girl asked.

"Dylan Marvil," Dylan replied, half hoping that the girl would scream, "Omigod! Dylan Marvil? You're Merri Lee Marvil's daughter! You don't have to stay in a cabin; you can use the head counselor's house! Not only that, you get to leave tomorrow!"

Unfortunately, all she said was, "Cabin fourteen."

Dylan whirled around with her suitcase, but the weight of her luggage almost pulled her off her feet. She stumbled into the lane of a guy who was sprinting past her at that exact moment, carrying a red baseball cap and running like his life depended on it.

Dylan screamed, throwing herself backwards. The guy stumbled to a stop, staggering for his footing, but he was running too fast. He smacked right into Dylan. She stumbled over and collapsed on her side, rolling over onto her back when she hit the pavement. The next thing she knew, this random guy had fallen directly over her.

Cheeks flushing red, Dylan elbowed him in the face to get him off of her. "Gettawwwf!" she breathed, scrambling to stand.

The kid who appeared to be chasing the runner jogged to a stop, his mouth in an amused O. "Woah, dude, way to take out the girl."

"Shut-up," the runner snapped, leaping to collect the red cap. "Sorry Red, maybe watch it next time?"

"What?" Dylan gasped. "You totally could have avoided me!"

"Are you joking me?" he laughed.

"No, I am nawt." Dylan elbowed him again, and he coughed to collect his breath. She rolled out from underneath him and stood so she could get a good look at him.

He had a head full of dark brown curly hair and brown eyes. His nose was slightly crooked, but it worked, in a weird way. Suddenly Dylan realized he was shirtless and in a bathing suit and her cheeks doubled in redness. She fumbled to grab her suitcase, but the guy reached out and grabbed it for her. He handed it to her, and she snatched it from him violently.

"Woah," he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "Easy, tiger."

The runner's friend snatched the cap out of his hands and placed it back on his head. "Next time don't steal my cap."

"Next time don't eat my doughnut," the runner smirked. "I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for Red here."

Dylan huffed indignantly, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. "Glad I could help," she sniffed. And she whirled around, turning her back on the runner. With all the dignity she could scrape up, she strode down the path.

CAMP EVERGREEN

5:30 P.M.

MESS HALL

Since table eighteen didn't exist, Dylan, Kristen, Claire and Alicia had decided to claim table fourteen for themselves—the highest number would only belong to them, of course. They collected their trays of pizza and juice, they strolled across the bustling mess hall until they found the empty table that read 14.

Dylan dropped her tray on the tabletop (one red apple, a carton of orange juice, and an overly-greasy slice of Hawaiian pizza) at the exact moment someone else's tray scraped the top of the table. Dylan looked up, and found herself face-to-face with the runner from earlier that day.

"Oh great, you again," she huffed. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

"Leave you alone? You're the one at our table."

"Your table?" Dylan lifted an eyebrow quizzically. "Yeah. Right."

"You don't come here often, do you?" the kid asked.

Dylan shook her head. "How did you guess?" she asked sarcastically.

"This is our table. Every year."

Dylan looked back at her friends, flicking her wavy red hair in the process. Alicia merely snickered like, are you joking? Claire looked around the room awkwardly. Kristen was glaring at the boys like they were the they potentially may be.

"So we'll be taking it, thanks Red." The guy slid onto the plastic bench and smirked up at Dylan.

The redhead merely smiled. "Shall we, girls?" she asked coolly. She petted her jean shorts and perched on the bench opposite of the guy.

Alicia, Claire and Kristen dropped their dinners on the table and sat down in perfect unison. Kristen glared at the kid like he'd just shot a puppy. Alicia simply looked amused.

Dylan kept his gaze, letting her emerald eyes do the talking. She resisted the urge to pull out her pocket mirror and check just how intimidating they looked. The guy held her eyes for a long moment, and for a second she felt herself flush. Then he blinked, and the feeling past as soon as it had come.

"C'mon guys," the boy said, stubbornly standing up. "This is not over," he added to Dylan.

"Keep telling that to yourself," Dylan waved sweetly.

Alicia, Kristen and Claire cracked up as they exchanged a round of victory high fives.

"Hey!" the guy yelled at her. "What's your name, Red?"

Dylan looked over her shoulder for a moment, contemplating whether or not to give it up. "What's yours?"

"Charles St. James."

There was a muffled sputter of laughter from Alicia's direction, which she didn't try to hide at all.

Charles' friends all turned to look at her, their annoyed expressions immediately changed once they got the jist of her big brown eyes, exotic skin, dark hair, and fluttery eyelashes.

"Ok." Dylan turned back to her pizza.

"Hey, aren't you gonna tell me yours?"

Dylan thought for a moment. Then she shrugged. "Nope."

Charles St. James murmured something and stomped away, his gang of guy friends hurrying after him.

"Ooooooooh!" Claire cooed like a drunk pigeon as soon as Charles was out of earshot. "Who's that, Dyl?"

Dylan shrugged again. "How am I supposed to know?"

"I think he said his name was Charles St. James," Alicia giggled from behind her red manicure.

"Well he seemed to know you."

"Do I care?" Dylan inquired tartly, jabbing a straw in her juice box.

"Ewwwwww, what is this?" Alicia squealed, spitting out her pizza straight into the garbage can beside their table."Gross!"

Dylan ripped off a tiny piece of crust and popped it in her mouth. She stole a glance across the mess hall, and immediately saw Charles laughing at something one of his friends had said. She tried to look away, but it was hard to.

CAMP EVERGREEN

THE FIELD

7:20 P.M.

"Ok, so what's the point of this game?" Alicia tripped towards Claire and Kristen, apparently having serious issues with the grass that covered all of her legs and ended at her butt. She squealed and slapped at a large blade, apparently defending herself from a bug of some sort.

Kristen was in the midst of tying her shoes, so she was down on her knees, completely concealed by the tall grass. When Kristen burst through the lawn's surface, Alicia screamed in surprise and nearly fell over onto her butt.

Claire burst out laughing.

"It's 'Capture the Flag,'" Kristen explained, sliding a bobby pin in her hair to hold her bangs back in place. "Haven't you played that before?"

"Have I ever done anything that involves running willingly?" Alicia asked smartly, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

Kristen giggled. "Guess not. Ok, they're explaining it now." She led Alicia and Claire through a crowd of teens to where Dylan stood, at the front of the pack. They were all clustered around a counselor with blonde braids and a shark tooth necklace around her neck.

Kristen touched her own necklace, probably thinking about Dune.

"Ok, in case you don't know, this is Capture the Flag. We've changed the rules a bit, but it's basically the same. Each team will have a flag. Ours is blue, theirs is orange. We have to hide in plain sight. No full-contact…"

Everyone except Dylan and Alicia groaned in protest.

"…and to win, you must not only cross the line with their flag, but you have to plant it beside ours."

"What are the teams?!" screamed someone in the group.

"It's our camp against BSC."

A huge roar of excitement erupted from behind the girls, and Alicia shrieked again. "Ehmagawd, what's wrong with these people?"

"Ok, you have five minutes to hide your flags! The game goes anywhere from between our two camps, and the line is across the field." She paused for a moment, and the whole camp tensed in unison. "GO!"

Everyone made a mad dash for the woods. Kristen broke into a sprint, Alicia and Dylan's protests confirming that they were following. Once the teens hit the woods, they all started screaming places to hide it.

Alicia was screaming in frustration, tripping over roots and grabbing branches to steady herself. "Ehmagawd—I'm gonna die!" she wailed.

"Kris, slow down!" Dylan panted. "I can't run that fast!"

"Well, try harder!" Kristen barked over her shoulder, and slowed down mildly. She joined the other camp kids, who were all crowded around that kid Dylan knew—Charles St. James.

"Ok, here's the plan, people: we're going to put the flag here. I'm gonna run into their area with John, Kyle, Laura, Mark, Nate, Julia, Troy, and Wesley. We're the fastest runners. Sarah, Don, Andrew, and Rob are going to come behind us, slowly. The rest of you are defense. Make sure you get them before they can get close to the flag. Split yourselves up into a couple groups if necessary."

Charles seemed to be the alpha of the camp. Kristen glanced over at Dylan, who was staring at him in a strange way—kind of confused, with her head tilted to the side a bit. It was like she was staring at an algebra problem on the whiteboard.

"Got it?"

The whole camp started cheering. "Let's show Abner and Briarwood what we're made of!" Charles punched the air.

Kristen, Claire, Alicia and Dylan all exchanged wide-eyed gasps and glances.

"Briarwood?" Dylan whispered, and the camp kids started to separate into groups and units. Charles and his group broke through the clearing and sprinted to the field. The rest of the camp seemed to be jogging behind them, so Kristen did the same and her friends pursued her.

The second they broke through the trees and waded into the meadow, a whistle blew far away and the camp burst into a flurry of excitement. Kristen almost felt the air buzzing and became aware of herself become caught up in the moment.

Suddenly, a group of about thirty guys burst through the woods on the opposite sides.

Kristen gasped, scanning the guy's faces for any trace of familiarity, but they were moving too fast.

The camp split into the two groups that Charles had ordered, and the defensive end started backing up towards the woods in perfect unison. Kristen followed the example, and Alicia yelped.

"Ehmagawd! Where's Josh?"

"Ehmagawd! I don't know," Claire snapped back. "Where's Cam?"

"Guys!" Dylan snapped. "Focus here! There is a group of thirty guys running at us!"

"Right, run!" Kristen yelled.

"Whaddya mean, run?" Alicia smiled wickedly, one hand poised red-carpet style on her hip.

"RUN!" Kristen commanded.

Together, they reverse-ran into the woods with the rest of the camp, forming an orderly line in front of their flag.

"Ok!" Someone screamed from the line. "Spread out, don't let them get close!"

Kristen jumped back and forth on the balls of her feet, getting extremely pumped. She needed something to take out her frustration at being sent to this stupid camp, and this just might be it.

"Ok, let's go!" she exclaimed.

Alicia squawked, "Are you joking? I can't run!"

"Then stay here."

"But Kristen—wait," Dylan called, but her friend had already taken off through the trees with a few of the other campers. The Briarwood and Abner guys were getting closer.

Dylan had absolutely no idea what to do. She stood in the midst of towering trees and thick bushes, watching some dumb blue flag. Every time a Briarwood guy ran through the trees, Dylan would merely watch as he passed towards the flag, scanning his face to see if she knew him.

Alicia was standing in the corner, screaming Josh's name every time a boy ran past into the crisp summery air. The sunset's light was cast over the water on the lake, and the pink sky stained the rest of the lake a warm summery colour. Dylan glanced over at the flag.

Everyone who was guarding it was currently running around, stretching out and jerking forwards to tag Briarwood guys. It was completely unguarded. While Dylan pondered how pathetic it was to break a sweat for a dumb camp game, a blur in a Tomahawks jersey blew straight past her, nearly knocking her off her feet.

"Hey!" Dylan called, and she could have sworn it was someone she knew… wait! Was that Kemp?

"Kemp!" she screamed, speed-walking towards the blur. But the guy was almost at the flag.

"Hey! Redheaded girl!" some girl screamed at Dylan. Dylan looked around.

"What?"

"STOP HIM!" the girl screamed in urgency, and then went back to pursuing a Briarwood boy.

"KEMP!" Dylan called, and without thinking, she took off after him. The guy probably figured out that Dylan was behind him, because he swerved all of a sudden, barreling to the left as fast as his Nikes would take him. Dylan hadn't realized she was running until she couldn't stop. Her legs carried her at an amazing speed, so fast that the girl who was yelling at her whoooed in the corner.

Dylan's felt a jolt of electricity slither up her spine, and it shot a burst of energy through her limbs. She just ran. She ignored Massie's protesting screeches from somewhere within her head and let her red Mark Eckos carry her across the dirt path and after the Briarwood blur.

Dylan reached out a hand to swipe at the guy's back, but he dodged her and zig-zagged. Dylan countered by skidding to a quick direction change and burst after him. She blasted out of the flurry of leaves and branches and kept pursuing him. The roar of the wind in her ears and the cool summer sunset bathing her just pumped the exhilarating adrenaline through her veins and she found yet another storm of spirit and she almost clipped the Tomahawk's heels with her runners.

The guy took a mad leap in front of her and tumbled over onto the ground, panting heavily. Haha! He'd finally given up! Dylan stopped in front of him and skipped up to him, ready to introduce Kemp to a whole month of teasing for being outrun by a girl, when she realized in a rush of blood to her cheeks that this boy was not Kemp—in fact he looked nothing like him. The only thing they had in common was slightly curly hair.

She leapt out and slapped his shoulder.

"Owww!" he protested. "What was that for?"

"I thought I had to tag you," she panted.

"Nooo, I crossed the line. Which means I can tag you!" He reacted immediately, leaping forwards to swipe at her.

Dylan screamed and rolled in the air, dodging his swipe. She nearly fell over, but the boy immediately changed direction and burst after her. Dylan's first thought was to run towards the border. But there was a whole group of Tomahawks around her now, each closing in.

Dylan didn't recognize any of them, and with a thudding heartbeat clouding her thinking, she whirled around and ran headlong into the was a feeling that she had experiences once before.

THURSDAY

CAMP EVERGREEN/BRIARWOOD SOCCER CAMP

THE WOODS

7:45 P.M.

Dylan had to stop. Panting, she stumbled and then leaned on a tree, letting herself sink into the rough, scratchy bark. She'd lost the Briarwood guys long ago, but now she was helplessly lost in the maze of trees. Seriously, this was worse than when she saw her mom and Mr-Whats-His-Face-Myner at Lake Placid.

Dylan gasped and clutched at the stitch in her side. She sank to the ground and hugged her knees to her chest and caught her breath. She leaned back on the tree's trunk, her red hair tangling up in the ragged bark.

She silently apologized to her hair for the torture she was putting it through. Luckily, she had someone to blame this on.

Skye Hamilton.

Just because Skye strolled back into town didn't mean that she could just mess up the last two weeks of Dylan's summer. Dylan kicked the ground with the back of her heel. Stupid Skye. Thinking of starting grade nine with her as the grade ten alpha was really unsettling. Skye didn't deserve to be an alpha, what with getting kicked out of her boarding school for messing around with a teacher. Puh-leeze! S-l-u-t much?

Dylan was jarred back to reality when she heard a twig snap behind her. She suddenly pictured herself as the heroine in a horror movie, alone in the woods with a horrible creature sneaking up on her. Dylan's throat tensed up. She wasn't alone. She groped the tree's bark and hauled herself up, trying to control her unsteady breathing. Slowly, she stole a peek around the tree. There was nobody there, only a cluster of trees, taunting her, as if saying "Go ahead—just try to find your way out."

She pressed herself up against the tree to try to support her quivering legs and took another glance around the trunk, but there was still nobody there. Dylan was just about to cast the snap off as something of her imagination, when she heard the shuffle of leaves and another twig snapping.

And then there was something on her shoulder.

That was it. She screamed. Dylan didn't care who heard her or if she got caught in this stupid game, but if there was a spider crawling up her shoulder she was going to sue this place for everything it had! She scrambled away from the tree, still shrieking. Her eyes were shut tight to avoid an overflow of hot salty tears.

The next thing she knew someone was cupping a rough, hot hand over her mouth, and pushing her up against the tree.

Dylan struggled and flailed madly. She tried to scream but couldn't register any noise because of the hand over her lips. In a last-minute attempt at freedom, she managed to close her teeth around the fingers as hard as she could.

"OW!! Red—Red, calm down!"

"You!" Dylan gasped, her eyelids flapping open. Immediately she let a long, deep breath run through her system to calm herself. Allowing herself to act like such an LBR would be making Massie totally unimpressed.

"Quick, there's not much time," Charles was gasping for breath. "Take this"—he handed a dirty orange flag to her—"to the other end. Run as fast as you can."

"I can't run that fast," Dylan lied. She had no intention of breaking any other sweat tonight. Puh-leeze!

"Well, give it to someone! They all think I have it! I'll lead them off!" he panted. "Just hurry!"

"But—"

"C'mon Red, just do it."

"Fine," Dylan sighed. She didn't have the energy to argue with this kid. "But stop calling me 'Red,' or I'll have to resort to violence."

"That sounded like a threat, Red."

Before Dylan could send him the verbal slap she had already conjured up, he added, "But I'm gonna have to know your name first."

"Good luck." Dylan knew he'd never get it, so she went along with it. This guy didn't need to know her name anyways.

Charles started jogging backwards, and pointed to the left to show her the way out of the woods. "Is it Sarah?" he called.

Dylan shook her head no, and for a moment they shared a stare. It was weird. He gave her a confused look, and she probably responded the same way. He was a complicated problem, an unsolved question. Who was this guy?

Four rowdy boys suddenly burst from the bushes. Dylan immediately stuffed the flag down her shirt before they could see, and they all pointed to Charles.

Charles broke into laughter, pretended to tip his hat to the boys, and then ran.

Two of the boys took off after him, but two of them charged Dylan. She squealed and broke into a sprint, willing the same adrenaline rush she'd gotten before to come over her, but her feet refused to pick up the same flight they had before.

Then for a second Charles crossed her mind. He wanted her to get the flag across the line. So she would. She steered away from the two Tomahawks and started scanning the woods, zig-zagging through the trees and leading the Tomahwaks on a wild goose chase. The guys started to get tired, and were wondering where the heck this chick was taking them. Dylan weaved through the tree trunks, and yanked her phone out of her pocket.

SERVICE AREA.

YES!

NO SERVICE AREA.

DAMN!

Dylan realized she was on a fine line from SERVICE and NO SERVICE. She kept dancing in and out of the trees, causing one of the Tomahawks to shout, "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!" at her. But she ignored them, soaking up the attention. Her audience started contributing to an exhilaration boost, and she felt a sudden rush of speed that gave her a wide berth from her pursuers.

She held up her phone to the sky, and finally got SERVICE consistently. She knew it wouldn't last long, so she speed dialed Kristen and prayed that she had service, wherever she was. Finally someone picked up and Dylan brought the phone to her ear.

"Kristen!"

"Dylan?"

Some screaming in the background.

"Where are you?" Kristen yelled over the noise.

More screaming, and some swearing added to the mix.

"Where are you?"

"I'm by the big tree that looks like Principal Burns."

"Where is—" Dylan screamed, losing her footing after tripping over a root that protruded the dirt. She completely wiped out on the ground, but protected the flag in her shirt with all her energy.

The Tomahawks were behind her, panting to keep up. She scrambled to an upright position, and then scanned the trees. OK, which one looked like an overweight crow?

Finally she spotted one that had a really odd shape. There was one branch that had been cut off and resembled a beak, and the rest of the tree was gnarled in a strange shape. Dylan almost cracked up. She stumbled to the tree and almost crashed head-on into Kristen, who was panting and looked like she'd just returned from soccer practice.

"Hey Dyl, wha—"

"Here, take this!" she yanked the flag out of her bra and shoved it into Kristen's hands.

Kristen grimaced. "EW! WHAT!" she laugh-shrieked, almost dropping it.

"No time to explain, just take it. I'll lead the others off." Dylan patted Kristen's shoulder sportingly before barreling towards the clearing.

The guys were gaining, and Dylan was losing her wind. She felt the area separating them lessen, and she was almost at the line.

And then they were gone.

What?

They'd changed direction! Dylan stumbled over the borderline, and gaped as she saw her friend sprinting through the clearing. She had at least twenty enemy campers in hot pursuit of her, and Dylan could recognize about ten faces.

Kristen's face kept flashing from gleeful, to angry, to murderous, and then back to happy again. She had taken off her hoodie, which was now flapping, wrapped around her stomach like a victory flag. She held the real orange flag up in the air with a proud, long bare arm, and in the buttery light of the sunset, she looked almost god-like.

And then a nameless Tomahawk stepped in front of her.

It was incredible. Kristen dodged him, twirled around, and ducked when he reached over her to get the flag. She nearly touched the ground, but instead brought herself up, seconds from wiping out. The Tomahawk was almost atop her now, but she let her elbow swing and nailed him directly in the stomach. The Tomahawk gasped, fell, and gaped at her in a mixture of awe and hate. It was like seeing her in one of her soccer games—if soccer had become a full-contact to-the-death sport.

The sea of Tomahawks behind her slowed dramatically like they were afraid to touch her. Instead of pursuing her, they started to spread out around her like she was protected by an invisible force field.

Dylan heard herself laughing.

About seven of Briarwood's guys burst from Camp Evergreen's side of the woods, one of them waving the blue flag in the air.

Kristen had never looked more determined. She gained breakneck speed, but Dylan didn't know if it would be enough to catch the opposite flag-bearer.

"Is it Jane?"

"What?" Dylan looked beside her. Charles had come up behind her. He was panting and his forehead was shimmering with sweat. But she couldn't stop staring at him. "No."

"Dangit."

"Um, we have a problem." Dylan pointed.

"Ok. GO!" he gave her a tiny shove and burst into action. Dylan stumbled behind him, but managed to fall into pace with him, sprinting into the path of Briarwood's flag-bearer.

Charles slid like he was blocking a shot, and managed to surprise a couple of Tomahawks so that Dylan could race by and smack each of them on the shoulder, sending them slumping away.

"You get the flag," he breathed. "Tiffany?" he added breathlessly.

Dylan shook her head.

Three bolts of adrenaline in one night seemed awfully unlikely. But then something really strange happened. Charles grabbed her arm. It was a light grab, but Dylan felt very weird. She got all light-headed. Dylan decided that she'd been running way too hard. She blinked a bunch of times.

"C'mon Red."

"Ok, Charles. Whatever."

"CHIP!" he screamed all of a sudden, and then turned her hand palm-side up, slapped it, and sprinted off to cover the rest of the runners.

Dylan gazed at her hand, confused.

And then she ran.

The third burst of energy came quickly. She didn't even have to accumulate the adrenaline herself, it was already there, as if it had been fighting to get out the whole time. Finally it was released, and it was deadly. She felt as if she wasn't even controlling her body anymore.

The flag-bearer was almost to the line, and so was Kristen. But Dylan was gaining on him. She became suddenly aware of an audience. The offensive and defensive campers had joined them, screaming and whoo-whooing and hollering in encouragement.

Dylan hurtled herself forwards in a last-chance kick at the can. And she threw her hand out.

It was slow-motion. The Tomahawk turned slightly, and became aware that she was there. She tried to side-step out of the way, but Dylan was too quick. She dove to his other side, cutting him off and breaking his path to the finish line. He cursed and tried to do spin-o-rama to the line, but Dylan was covering him at all sides. Seconds before he would have passed the line, Dylan's fingers skimmed the fabric in his jersey, and then she had him.

She locked her hand on his shoulder and he stopped dead, sliding in the grass and tumbling over, taking Dylan down with him. Dylan disappeared in the hip-length meadow, landing flat on her back. She gasped for breath, and heard the Tomahawk getting up, tossing the flag on the ground and grumbling curses at her as she stomped off.

Wow.

Did that really just happen? Did Dylan Marvil, a member of the Pretty Committee, just participate in a group activity like Capture the Flag? In camp? Was she supposed to be proud, ashamed, or just plain confused?

What puzzled her more was that she had… fun.

Then suddenly, the whole camp erupted in a fit of cheers. Dylan was too tired to get up, but she knew Kristen had crossed the line. She heard chanting hollers of "New kids! New kids!"

Dylan felt a smile grow on her face, and it wouldn't go away, so she made no effort to wipe it off.

Suddenly the evening sky was obstructed by a dark shadowy figure leaning above her.

"That was so cool."

"Oh great." Dylan murmured, still aground. She brushed the dirt off her shorts. "I suppose you want me to tell you my name now."

"Nope. I wanna guess it. Is it Rachel? Rebecca? Regina? Kimberly? Lana? Lauren? Monique? Monica? Nikki? Quinn? Amber? Alis—"

"Shut up," she snapped. "And no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, and no."

"Was that as many 'no's' as I said?"

"Huh?"

He shrugged and offered her his hand to help her up.

"Fine. Thanks Charles, I guess." She slapped her palm into his and allowed it to be swallowed up again. As she heaved her up, she got that same dizzy feeling. Wow, she really needed to get into better shape if this was going to happen to her every time she ran.

Charles made a face. "I told you, call me Chip."

"What?"

"That's my nickname. Chip St. James."

"Chip?"

"Yeah."

Dylan snickered.

"What's so funny, Red? How come you can have a nickname and I can't?"

"I didn't say you couldn't," Dylan replied indignantly. "Now excuse me, I have to go see my friend."

"Sure, whatever." Chip buried his hands in his pockets and strolled away, making faces at the opposing team as he did so.

Dylan watched him walk all the way back to the cabins before finally coming up with a reasonable answer to all the questions going through her mind.

Guys are so weird.