Page 6 of Hide And Seek

“It’s Alissa,” I said, feeling a little awkward about the correction even though it was my name. “And I’m at NYU for journalism. Still in junior year, so I'll graduate next spring.”

“Oh, fun,” she said. “But I meant, like, high school. Where did you go for that?”

I stared at her for a second. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked me that question. It felt like being asked what my favorite dinosaur was.

“Just the local high school in Bitterroot Crossing,” I said. “It’s in Montana. Where I grew up.”

“Oh.” Her bright smile stayed in place while something behind her eyes silently checked out. “That must’ve been amazing. Montana looks likesucha cool place.”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah, it was pretty nice growing up there.”

Grace and Maren exchanged pointed glances behind Sutton, but they didn’t say anything.

“It was so nice to meet you, Alicia,” Sutton said, already turning. “We'll see you around, for sure.”

“For sure,” I echoed, not bothering to correct her on my name again. If she actually cared, she’d remember it, but clearly, she didn’t.

The girls moved off down the path, and Jasmine snickered beside me. “Did you clock how fast their interest faded once they realized you didn't go to Choate Rosemary or some other fancy boarding school?" she asked. “Or the looks on their faces when you told them you were from Montana?”

“Yeah, I caught that. So I guess that settles it. I'm a Dirtbag.”

Jasmine laughed again. “Don't worry. You'll love it.”

She checked her watch, and her expression shifted into something more purposeful. “Okay, we need to head to the assembly hall soon. Mabry’s doing her welcome speech at eleven-thirty.”

The assembly hall smelled like pine resin and the particular mustiness of a building that had been shut up for the better part of a year. It was a decent size, with exposed beams overhead, rows of chairs and benches, and a raised platform at the far end where the camp director was already standing.

She was somewhere in her mid-forties, with reddish-brown hair pulled back neatly and the kind of face that gave very little away. There was a lanyard around her neck with her ID clipped to it, and she held a single sheet of paper.

She waited until the room was completely quiet before she began her speech, occasionally glancing down at the paper. She covered the expected ground efficiently; schedule, expectations, the responsibility that came with being trusted by parents who were the kind of people you didnotwant to disappoint.

Then she paused, and something in her expression shifted fractionally.

“Above all else,” she said, “I want to emphasize the importance of vigilance this year. Vigilance around the boundaries, around the equipment facilities, around any situation where the safety and wellbeing of our campers could be compromised.” Another pause. “We don't want any more… unfortunate incidents.”

“You mean you don't want any more dead kids.”

The blunt masculine voice came from somewhere to my left, and I didn't need to look to know who’d spoken. Around the room, a few people shifted uncomfortably.

Mabry looked at Rhys with an expression that didn't change in any way I could identify, and yet managed to convey several things simultaneously.

“I mean exactly what I said, Mr. Usher,” she said in a clipped tone.

Jasmine caught my eye, mouthing two words with exaggerated clarity.See? Asshole.

I gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement and faced forward again. She wasn't wrong, exactly. What Rhys had said was blunt to the point of being jarring, and the timing had that particular quality of someone who knew they were going to cause a reaction.

But… he also wasn't wrong. ‘Unfortunate incident’was doing a lot of heavy lifting as a phrase. A twelve-year-old girl had died at this camp last summer, and the director had basically referred to it the way you'd refer to a minor liability issue.

The rest of the speech passed without anything noteworthy happening, and then Jasmine resumed our tour of the campgrounds.

The kids finally started arriving at three.

It was the kind of chaos that only happened when a hundred kids were released from cars after long journeys and turned loose among a hundred other kids. Loud chatter and excited shrieks everywhere. A few tearful goodbyes at the drop-off point. Nannies who looked quietly relieved. Parents who lingered and parents who didn't linger at all.

I was doing my best to look welcoming and competent when Jasmine grabbed my arm.

“Holy shit,” she muttered. “Don't look yet… okay, look, but be subtle about it. The girl in the blue jacket, just getting out of that black SUV.”