Wildfire （Maple Hills, #2）
Hannah Grace
Chapter One
RUSS
Henry’s eyes are burning into me from across the living room. “Your summer is going to suck.”
There’s an echo of snorts from my teammates, the loudest coming from Mattie, Bobby, and Kris, who all told me something similar when I said no to joining them in Miami this summer.
“Inspiring words, Turner,” I shoot back at my unimpressed roommate. “You should become a motivational speaker.”
“You’ll be sorry you didn’t listen to me when you’re stuck doing manual labor and team building activities at staff training next week.” Henry continues to flick through the Honey Acres brochure, his forehead creasing with a frown the further he gets into it. “What’s night duty?”
“I have to sleep in a room attached to the campers’ cabin twice a week in case they need anything,” I say casually, watching Henry’s eyes widen in horror. “The rest of the time I sleep in my own cabin.”
“It’s a no from me,” he says, throwing the brochure back on the coffee table. “Good luck though.”
“Could be worse,” Robbie muses from across the living room. “You could have to move to Canada this summer.”
Nate groans loudly, burying his head into his girlfriend’s hair, sinking further into the recliner they’re sharing. “Fuck off about fucking Canada.”
“You brought this on yourself,” Stassie mutters just loudly enough for us all to hear. “Stop being such a crybaby. Nate, you want to play for Vancouver.”
“I’d rather move to Canada than look after twenty kids for nine weeks.” The genuine disgust on Henry’s face would make someone think I’m going to work in a slaughterhouse, not spending the summer as a counselor at a sleepaway camp. “You really didn’t think this through, Callaghan.”
I really did.
Honey Acres’ main clientele are busy and rich parents who need to keep their kids occupied for the full summer while they work. Thankfully, the fees are expensive as hell, which means the facilities are better than every other camp I looked at, and, given the work keeping multiple kids in check, the job is well paid with multiple full days off. Something I know is a luxury and definitely not the case with most camps.
Kris and Bobby suggested I apply after I turned down their vacation offer, explaining I needed to get a job. They went to Honey Acres one summer ten years ago, but swore it was the best camp in California, and I was willing to apply for anything. Money has been tight since the bar I worked at was shut down by the cops. Unfortunately, its reputation for suspicious activity and serving underage students finally caught up with it, and there’s no signs of it reopening.
So even though Henry thinks my judgment is seriously flawed, the alternative is hanging around Maple Hills, unemployed, being hounded by my mom to visit her.
It was a very easy choice.
“What I’m hearing, Hen, is you still don’t want to come with me?” I tease.
“It’s still a no. Thanks. But if you need a fake emergency to be able to leave, let me know. I’ll make a call.”
JJ leans closer to Henry from beside him on the couch, nudging him with his shoulder. “The only emergency you’re going to have for the next two years, Captain, is drowning in too much p—”
“JJ!” Stassie squeaks, cutting him off.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he chastises, “I was going to say paint.”
Stassie rolls her eyes at him, giving him the finger as he blows her a kiss. Lowering her hand, she focuses on me, a soft smile on her lips. “You’ll have fun, ignore Henry. We’ll miss you around here though.”
“You don’t even live here anymore,” Mattie says, eyebrow raised.
“You’ve never lived here!” she counters, starting off an argument about who spends more time at this house.
As grateful as I am to have a job this summer, it does kind of suck to be heading off when I’ve only just moved in with Henry and Robbie. Plus, our unofficial roommates Mattie, Bobby and Kris, who magically appear whenever food is mentioned.
It’s weird having my own room after two years of sharing in the fraternity house, and before that with my brother Ethan, but I’m already so much happier here.
Aside from the obvious things like having my own space and living with people I like, it feels good to not have to strategically plan when I can jerk off or, on rare occasions, get laid. Henry had the courtesy to let me know that after six months of living next to Nate and Stassie, he can confirm with absolute certainty that the room is not soundproof.