Real smooth, Kim, I thought as I headed back to my bed.

The other girls seemed oblivious to the loner as they became more vocal. The noise level in the cabin swelled as they tried to outdo each other’s stories. I fought the urge to cover my ears or try my old fifth-grade teacher's method and declare it quiet time. The beginning of a headache began to pound in my temples.

“Shut it!” Amy hollered, stepping into the cabin.

Silence enveloped the cabin like a blanket.

“You know my rules. We can all have fun chatting, gossiping and talking about boys, but when your voices hit screaming decibels, what does it mean?” she said, dropping the bags she had carried so she could put her hands on her hips.

“Majorly grumpy counselors,” one of the girls piped in, giggling.

“That’s right, and do we like majorly grumpy counselors?” she asked, finally cracking a smile.

“NO,” they all chorused, laughing at the same time.

“What’s the matter?” Amy asked, plopping on the bed as she took in my stressed look.

“Um, nothing, if putting my foot in my mouth is what we're supposed to do,” I said, indicating the sullen figure lying on her bunk and facing the wall.

“Oh, that's Alyssa. I should've warned you about her,” Amy whispered. “This is her third summer coming here. She’s what we call a “hard-knock camper.” She just can’t seem to catch a break. I think she’s been placed a handful of times in the last few years. Her father is a deadbeat fricker, but the judge in her town just doesn’t get it. Her dad will clean up his act, petition the court for custody and then proceed to drink himself into a stupor weeks after he gets her. She’s been bounced around more than a ping pong ball. She’s tough around the edges, but underneath, you can tell she just wants what everyone else wants, to be loved. I came close to getting under her tough shell last year, but it was just as camp was ending,” Amy whispered, sounding frustrated.

“Well, I’ll leave her to your capable hands. I’ve already alienated myself with her,” I said sighing as I stood up to help one of the girls put her bag on top of the wardrobe.

“Thanks,” she said shyly, looking at me like she still had something to say.

“Did you need anything else?” I asked as she nervously twirled one of her long locks of blonde hair around her finger.

“Um, I uh, was just wondering, is it true Rick’s really your dad?” she stuttered out.

“Yep, he is,” I answered, noticing the noise in the cabin had evaporated.

“Lucky,” she said, looking at me with wide blue eyes.

“Why haven’t you been here before?” one of the older girls asked, looking doubtful.

I looked around at the eleven pairs of eyes that were now focused on me like I was ready to disclose the location of Katy Perry’s house. I debated sidestepping their question, but instead, answered honestly. “I didn’t find out about him until last Thursday,” I said.

“What? Your mom never told you who your father was?” the same skeptical girl from before asked. “What a ho-bag,” she added.

“She had her reasons,” I said, feeling the need to defend my mom since she wasn’t able to.

“No excuse is a legit one,” the girl said, sinking onto one of the bunk beds with her arms crossed.

“True, no excuse is acceptable,” I said, agreeing with her.

“But how cool is it that Rick is your father?” one of the other girls squealed, like Rick was a movie star or something.

I laughed. “He seems like a cool guy,” I said as the girls started chattering about how awesome it would be for a parental figure to come out and claim them.

I turned back to my bed to help Amy sort through the clothes and my eyes skirted over to the bunk in the corner. I saw Alyssa had flipped over in her bed and was studying me critically. I smiled at her to show I cared and she answered by flipping me off before flopping back over.

Amy giggled. “That’s Alyssa for you,” she said when I grimaced. “Parker, come get your stack of clothes,” she added.

“Any hoodies?" the girl who had asked me about Rick asked, looking hopefully through the large stack. “Sweet,” she said, pulling one from the bottom of the stack. “And it’s pink too. Thanks, Amy,” she said, throwing her arms around Amy.

I looked at Amy smiling.

“Yeah, that’s Parker," she said, seeing my questioning look. "She was found abandoned in a park when she was a baby. Someone at the state thought it would be cute to call her Parker. She’s what we call a ‘lifer.’ She’s been in the system for ten years. Her foster mom is a ‘user,'” she added.

Tags: Tiffany King Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net