Sleepaway Girls

Copyright © 2009 by Jen Calonita

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Little, Brown and Company

Hachette Book Group

237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017

Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

First eBook Edition: May 2009

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-0-316-05267-2

Contents

Copyright Page

  1: The Newbie

  2: Home Sweet Home?

  3: Getting to Know You

  4: Matchmaker

  5: They’re Here

  6: Meet the Peeps

  7: Arts, Crafts, and Confession

  8: Fireworks

  9: Reporting for Duty

10: The First Meeting of the Sleepaway Girls

11: Swimming Lesson

12: Talent Show-Off

13: Playing Games

14: Gotcha

15: The Hunt

16: Confession Is Good for the Soul

17: Food for Thought

18: Crime and Punishment

19: Common Ground

20: The Talent Show

21: So Long… for Now

Acknowledgments

SECRETS OF MY HOLYWOOD LIFE novels by Jen Calonita:

secrets
OF MY HOLYWOOD LIFE

on
LOCATION

FAMILY AFFAIRS

Paparazzi Princess

To Briel Gradinger, Ashley McGetrick, Grace Barrett-Synder, my MySpace buddy Emily Kate, and to sleepaway girls everywhere who shared their stories

2

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Hunter.

“Hey, champ. That was quite a spill,” he said as he leaned over me. “Are you functioning okay?”

I tried to speak, but all I could manage was a gurgle. Everything came flooding back. I got hit in the face with the ball and wiped out. In front of all the counselors. I’d only been at camp for an hour and I’d already made a fool of myself. Hello, bad camp nickname! Everyone was going to call me Slipper or something stupid like that all summer. I just knew it.

“Don’t try to get up too fast,” someone said, and I realized Cole was sitting next to me, cradling my head as he held an ice pack to it. He smiled down at me. “You hit your head on a rock. That must be some bump.” It sure felt like it. The back of my head stung even with an icepack on it. I was suddenly aware that Cole’s hands were on me and I struggled to get up. “Don’t move. We’re going to get the nurse,” Cole instructed me.

“Samantha! Are you okay?” Ashley was standing over me now, looking worried. “I’m
so
sorry. I threw the ball and I guess it went in the wrong direction.”

Their faces kept coming in and out of focus and I could barely hear them my head hurt so bad. “It’s okay,” I managed.

“I’m just glad I didn’t break your nose.” Ashley clutched her chest.

Someone nearby snorted, and I could make out an African American girl in a tight black tank laced with bright pink ribbon, and short denim shorts, sort of laughing. Everyone looked at her. “Come on. You guys don’t believe her, do you?” she asked incredulously.

“Nice, Courtney,” Ashley pouted. “Trying to make the new girl hate me just because I
accidentally
hit her with the dodgeball.”

While the two of them argued, Hunter spoke to me softly. “Do you think you can get up, champ?”

“Hunter, I think we should wait for the nurse,” Cole said sharply.

“I can get up,” I said and struggled to get out of Cole’s reach. But everything went blurry and I had to let Cole’s hands catch me. “Whoa.”

“Cole’s right, Hunter. She shouldn’t walk right now,” an older girl with brown hair and pretty gray eyes said. “Sam, I’m Alexis. I’m a senior counselor here. I think you should lie down and rest. We’ll get you to your bunk. Your cabin is 8B.”

“That’s with us!” Em said excitedly. I didn’t realize she was here. So was Grace.

“I think Meg, who is your bunk counselor, just got here so she’s probably setting up her bunk,” Alexis added. “I’ll ask Nurse Nancy to stop down.” I tried to lift my head again and Alexis grabbed my arm. “Don’t move. You should be carried.”

“I’ll do it,” Cole and Hunter offered at the same time.

NO WAY. “I can walk,” I insisted, feeling my face get hot at just the thought of Hunter scooping me up and walking away with me, like a scene out of some romantic comedy I’d seen one too many times on TBS.

“Hunter, you take her,” Alexis said.

I glanced at Cole and he gave me this weird sort of smirk. I looked away quickly.

“Sam, just rest,” added Alexis. “Everyone will be heading to their bunks for a break after lunch anyway. We’ll send food to you.”

I was missing lunch? Not only was I late that morning, but now I had to miss more social time by being on the disabled list. Some first day it was turning out to be.

“Okay,” I said, feeling weird as Cole handed Hunter the icepack and Hunter effortlessly lifted me into his arms. He had put his shirt back on, thank God, a gray one that hugged his chest. I might have imagined it, but at that moment, I thought I heard a few girls sigh. Now that I was airborne Hunter’s face was so close to mine I wasn’t sure where to look. Instead, I stared ahead at Em, who winked as Hunter carried me away.

This was awkward.

What do you talk about when a guy who is cuter than Orlando Bloom is carrying you across a field of sunflowers to bring you to your new bedroom? Especially when you look like I did at the moment — my face probably covered in dirt, mud all over my clothes and makeup melted off my face. I didn’t even want to think about the weight issue. I always hated sitting on a guy’s lap for a school group picture. And here was Hunter, having to carry me what felt like miles. My blush was never going to go away after this moment.

“So, champ, you didn’t tell me your name,” Hunter said suddenly. He wasn’t even huffing or puffing and we were heading up a hill, walking past several old, worn wood buildings with signs that said POTTERY, NEWSPAPER OFFICE, and ARTS AND CRAFTS. They were nestled between lots of large leafy trees that the sun was poking through, sending bursts of light everywhere. None of the buildings looked modern. As far as I could tell, most of them didn’t even have air-conditioning. This wasn’t meant to be a tour of camp, I know, but my first thought was that the place was really pretty in a rustic sort of way.

I knew I told him my name earlier, but after all that happened, I wasn’t surprised he’d forgotten it. “Sam,” I said without looking at him. “Sam Montgomery.”

“I think I prefer champ,” he told me. I snuck a glance at him. Hunter’s face was all sweaty, in a cute way. I wasn’t even sure what to say to that so instead I said, “I’m sorry you have to miss the start of lunch.”

“No biggie,” Hunter said and shifted his hands under my body. His hand skimmed my butt when he did it and I couldn’t help but jump slightly. “I’m sure Beaver — that’s our cook — will make me a burger if they run out,” Hunter added. “The most important thing is getting you back to your cabin in one piece. I’m sure no one’s taught you how to ward off a wolf yet.”

“You have wolves?” I croaked. “The brochure didn’t mention wolves.”

Hunter started to laugh. “I’m just kidding,” he said and his hand closest to my arm tickled it slightly. “You should have seen your face!”

“It’s not funny,” I insisted. For weeks, I had a recurring nightmare that they ran out of beds and I was forced to sleep in the middle of the woods where I was attacked by a family of wolves.

“It’s not funny,” he repeated in a high voice. “I’m sorry. You’re just adorable.”

Adorable? How could Hunter call me adorable? Baby chicks are adorable. Golden retriever puppies are adorable. Fifteen-year-old girls like me are sweet, or smart, or any number of adjectives I couldn’t think of at the moment because my head was on fire. Hunter had stumped me for a response again.

“Hey,” he said, after he stopped laughing. “Look up there.” He nodded toward the top of the hill and I could see what looked like several life-size wooden dollhouses. They were white with red porches and screen doors and red shutters. “That’s what we call Candy Land,” Hunter said. “Upper campus is where we house the senior campers, aka marshmallows, some counselors, and CITs. Lower campus, which we passed before, near the zip cord course, is dubbed Gumdrop Forest. That’s where the peeps and pez sleep.” He smirked. “That’s where I sleep too. Senior counselors bunk with their charges and I’ve got peeps.”

“Peeps, pez, and marshmallows?” I repeated.

Hunter grinned. “Cheesy, right? I know. They’re all campers. Peeps are eight and under, pez are nine to eleven, and marshmallows are twelve to fourteen. The cabin division names are the only lame thing about Whispering Pines.”

I tried to memorize the categories, but it was hard with a throbbing head.

“You’ll get the hang of it.” Hunter read my thoughts. “The most important thing you need to know is where I chill. That’s the counselors’ lounge.” He nodded past the cabins and I saw a Swiss Alps–style wood lodge, the roof touching the ground, forming a large triangle. The building was surrounded by a huge porch. “I’m sure you’ll get to hang out there sometime, if we counselors like you enough.”

“I’m beginning to feel like I just parachuted into a foreign country and I don’t speak the language,” I admitted.

“Well, first things first.” Hunter headed up the steps of a cabin that had a sign that said 8B. “Let’s introduce you to your home away from home.” The white front porch was adorable with red-trimmed windows and a red roof and three cute blue rockers waiting to be rocked in. The place looked like the dollhouse I had when I was little. I used to spend all my Christmas money sprucing it up. One year I even retiled the roof with real miniature shingles. They only lasted a month before my cousin Cara pulled them off one by one, thinking they were dominoes.

I reached out, since Hunter’s hands were tied up, and pulled open the creaky screen door.

“Meg!” Hunter yelled. “You’ve got your first injury.”

“What?” I heard a girl shriek. She ran out from the other room wearing a maroon Boston College tee and khaki shorts. She was pretty even with zero makeup, which let you see her freckles, and her blond hair was pulled casually into a loose ponytail.

“This is the champ — I mean Sam,” Hunter corrected, giving me a lopsided grin. “She got slammed in the face by a dodgeball during the game and hit her head on the way down. Alexis wanted her to rest.” He walked me over to the single in the room and gently placed me on it. I looked around. The room was full of black metal bunk beds, covered by saggy mattresses. The walls were made of — surprise — wood, that was decorated like the back of a bathroom stall. Etched everywhere were things like “Jess and Sara were here! 2006!” and “Kyle will love me 4EVR! — Sue ’08.” The room smelled faintly like bug spray.

“Are you okay?” Meg asked me worriedly. “I’m Meg Bauer, your bunk counselor. Do you want some ice? Something to eat? A magazine to read?” She looked around. “Your bags are probably in that pile over there.” She pointed to a mound of duffels. I could sort of make out my oversized olive green sack on the bottom.

“Thanks,” I said gratefully. “But I think I’ll just lie here.”

“Well, my knight in shining armor duty is over,” Hunter said, bowing slightly. “I guess I’ll see you at dinner, champ.”

“Thanks, Hunter,” I said awkwardly.

Meg sat down at the edge of my bed and waited for the screen door to slam behind him. “I have a feeling you’re the envy of every CIT girl here right now,” she said with a grin. “I could name a dozen girls who would kill for alone time with Hunter Thomas.”

I blushed. I didn’t know why the topic of boys was so foreign to me. I guess my lack of boyfriends was part of the answer. “He’s really nice,” I said.

“We’ll see if you still think that way halfway through the summer,” she said wryly. “That’s the trouble with being the newbie. You don’t know everyone yet. But I’m sure you’ll catch on. Do you have any questions so far?”

“A million,” I laughed. “But I guess Hitch will go over everything at orientation.”

Meg nodded. “The most important stuff you’ll pick up quickly. The camp is co-ed, which you know, and we have about 250 campers, most of which stay the whole seven weeks. Each bunk has six to eight campers and one counselor and either a CIT or a junior counselor. By the end of your third day here, Hitch will assign each CIT to a senior counselor. You’ll work with that person all summer taking care of that one group of campers. You’ll spend two sessions a day with them, and have occasional kitchen duty, but for the most part you’ll still get to have regular camper privileges.”

Meg went over more camp logistics — what the canteen was (the snack shack), what food to avoid (tuna salad was awful), and the best camp activity to sign up for (she swore by the hiking group that got to take an overnighter). Before we knew it, the nurse was there to bring me a plate of food (a hamburger with all the fixings and fruit salad) and check my head. (“Just a nasty bump,” she decided, and handed me some packets of Tylenol.) Before I knew it, the screen door was bursting open and a group of girls was racing toward the bunk beds.

“I call this one!” I heard Grace yell as she zipped past me. “Em, I have our bunk!”

Ashley and two others ran by. One I recognized as the spunky girl who had the nerve to take on Ashley at the dodgeball game, and another I didn’t recognize: tall, thin, dark tan, big chest, tiny waist, with perfectly curly, long light brown locks — looked like a model, too. The three of them stopped short at my bed.

“Did you already claim the single?” The brunette supermodel-in-training asked me icily.

“Gabby, I’ll handle this,” Ashley told her. She grinned. “I usually get the single,” she said. “I don’t know if anyone told you, but I’m the camp director’s daughter, and the single usually goes to me.”