“What’s it like sharing a room with him?” I picture Charlie making his bed in the morning, complete with hospital corners. I think of my own bed, unmade with the sheets in a ball at the foot of it. Where I kick them to in the middle of the night is where they stay.

  I march toward Charlie’s cabin. Before I get there, I’m intercepted by Adam out for a walk with Chewy.

  “What are you doing with Chucky?” he asks.

  “Charlie decided to get back at me for my prank by leaving him in my file drawer.”

  Adam laughs. “I didn’t think he had it in him.”

  “I know, right?”

  “So you’re going to give the doll back and let him do it again?”

  Adam makes a good point. “I’m listening.”

  “What if we hide him? We’ll make a game of it.”

  I contemplate Chucky. “Bury him like treasure and draw a map?”

  “More like a ransom note. We find a spot to stash the doll and make Charlie work for it.”

  I like this idea. “What if he doesn’t?” I wouldn’t blame Charlie for leaving the doll wherever we chose to hide him. We’d give him the ideal excuse to abandon Chucky without losing face.

  “I bet you anything Charlie’s too attached to let the doll go for good. He’ll take the bait.”

  I smooth back Chucky’s red hair, and the ends stick straight back up. “Okay, but let’s not bury him. That seems cruel.”

  Adam observes me. “You know that’s a doll, right? He can’t breathe.”

  I cover Chucky’s ears. “You wouldn’t feel the need to point that out if I was holding a Yoda doll right now.”

  “Point taken.” He glances over his shoulder. “You should hurry before you run into Charlie. I saw him leave his cabin about five minutes ago. Not sure when he’ll come back.”

  I waste no time sneaking into Charlie’s cabin. I take a second to digest the state of the interior. He’s exceptionally neat and tidy, which shouldn’t surprise me given the condition of his shoes. His laptop is open on the small table, and I resist the temptation to sneak a peek. Besides, the Internet is garbage here anyway. With my luck I’d try to glimpse his socials and end up freezing his screen on some Instagram model’s boobs.

  I quickly brush off the notion. Charlie doesn’t actually seem like the kind of guy who follows models on IG. He seems far more likely to follow businesspeople he admires.

  Do successful businesspeople post on Instagram? I have no idea. I’m only on there for the dogs in costumes.

  I set Chucky up with a kitchen knife in Charlie’s bathroom sink. It isn’t easy to get the doll in position, especially with the knife, but I finally manage it with an ingenious use of the toilet plunger and duct tape, which truly is the greatest invention since the printing press, as my grandfather espoused.

  Outside the cabin, I hear Charlie’s voice and freeze. The front door clicks open, and I look around frantically. There’s only one place to hide. I dart into the shower and cower behind the curtain. I fervently hope he doesn’t choose now to have a bowel movement.

  His footsteps head straight toward the bathroom. Shit.

  No! Don’t manifest shit by thinking the word.

  “Damn, Chucky,” Charlie says. “Not you again.”

  Okay, he doesn’t sound terribly frightened. I can expose myself without giving him a heart attack. I poke my head out from behind the curtain.

  “Charlie…” As I start to emerge from the shower, he unleashes a blood-curdling scream. I grab the boat-inspired curtain with such force that I manage to yank it off the clips. I fall out of the shower and onto the bathroom floor, wrapped like a nautical mummy. I’m battered and likely bruised, but I cannot stop laughing.

  “Holy shit, Cricket. Is that you?”

  I emit some sort of sound that’s a cross between a snicker and a cry of pain.

  Charlie tugs at the curtain until I’m able to emerge from my makeshift cocoon. “What in the hell are you doing in my bathroom?”

  I catch my breath. “I was setting up Chucky when you came back. I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t exactly climb out the window.” When I dare to glance up, I see him grinning at me.

  “Would you like a hand?”

  “Only if you washed it first.”

  “I haven’t been to the bathroom yet. That’s why I came in here before I was scared out of my wits.” He pulls me to my feet with his clean hand.

  “I only intended for Chucky to scare you. I planned to be long gone.” I pause. “Or at least outside your cabin listening to the sounds of discovery.”

  “And recording them for posterity I would imagine.” He actually sounds amused.

  “I’m sorry for sneaking into your cabin. I know it isn’t very professional.”

  “I believe it violates several camp rules and regulations.”

  I lower my head. “I know. Again, I’m very sorry.”

  “Do you promise not to do it again?”

  I look from Chucky to Charlie, reluctant. “If you insist.”

  “I’d like to keep Chucky with me from now on, if you don’t mind.”

  “Like a hostage?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You really are attached to him,” I murmur, recalling Adam’s insight. I’m surprised, but I’m more relieved that he isn’t going to make an issue of my trespassing. I take the win.

  “You won’t do anything horrible to him, will you?”

  Charlie gnaws his lip. “You’re worried I’ll do something horrible to the doll threatening me with the butcher knife?”

  “Technically it’s a vegetable peeler…”

  He holds up a hand. “I solemnly swear to do no harm to Chucky. Will that do?”

  “Yes.” Now that the uncomfortable has passed, I realize we’re crammed together in his tiny bathroom. Cue new uncomfortable moment.

  “In exchange for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Twice now Ben has mentioned a mysterious prank that I won’t see coming. Could you kindly make that go away? Every time I turn a corner, I expect to be confronted with some crazy prank I can’t even predict.” He gestures to the shower. “I’m not a big fan of surprises.”

  “No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Great. Would you mind giving me some privacy?” he asks, motioning to the door.

  “Of course. Sorry.” I observe the curtain in a ball on the floor. “I’ll bring you another shower curtain later.”

  “No need. This one’s fine. I can hang it back up.”

  It’s only when I leave the cabin that I hear his rollicking laughter, and I can’t help but smile. My embarrassment aside, it’s a good sound. One I’d very much like to hear again.

  Chapter Eight

  Trivia night is one of my favorite events during camp because what nerd doesn’t love a knowledge-based competition?

  We divide into groups and summon the Ubers for those intending to drink. Somehow Charlie ends up in the back of a sedan sandwiched between Angela and Esther, which I am fairly confident Angela orchestrated. If he were older, I’d worry for his safety, but Angela has always preferred older men, at least when it comes to husband hunting.

  The bar is only a seven-minute drive. I’ve been coming here since I was a teenager, but those early years mainly involved driving my dad home at the end of the night.

  Charlie gazes at the squat building in wonder when we arrive. “Nickers? Is that a pun?”

  “You aced the test. Most people think Nickey’s was misspelled, and he was too cheap to change it.”

  He continues to stare at the building. “This is a dive bar.”

  “Very good. Now identify this.” I point to a nearby bush.

  “I was expecting more of a sports bar, the loud kind with big TVs.”

  I nudge him forward. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid you’ll burst into flames upon crossing the threshold?”

  “No, I’m worried they won’t accept AmEx.”

  “You’re right, they won’t. Not to worry, we have enough cash between us to cover the bill. As I’m sure you can surmise, the beer here is inexpensive.”

  The bar’s owner bounds toward us with a Labrador’s enthusiasm. “Cricket. Great to see you, honey.”

  “Hi Nick. I reserved seating for trivia night.”

  “You sure did. Manny will be here soon. You want pitchers for the tables?”

  “Please.” I lean over to Charlie. “He’s talking about beer, not baseball.”

  He bites back a smile. “I’m familiar with the concept.”

  “I’ll help Nick with the pitchers and glasses,” I say. “You all go ahead.”

  “I’m sticking to you,” Charlie says, following me to the bar.

  “Nick and I can handle it.”

  “No, I mean there’s so much residue on the floor, the toe of my shoe has adhered to your heel.”

  “Hardy har. Be prepared. You’ll leave this place tonight with more molecules than you came with.”

  Charlie recoils. “I don’t even want to know what that means.”

  I try to see the place through his eyes. There’s a U-shaped bar in the middle of the room dotted with stools. To the left is a jukebox, a dartboard, and a pool table. To the right is the seating area where we’re headed, with a few booths that line the wall and a smattering of square tables. The floor is covered in sawdust and it’s anybody’s guess whether it’s a design choice or leftover debris from construction. The lighting is dim enough to make everyone look reasonably attractive but not so dark that you end up canoodling with your own brother. I’ve always liked it here, not that I frequent bars very often. I’m more of a pajamas-by-eight-and-bed-by-ten person.

  Nick slides a tower of glasses across the bar to me. “Is that enough?”

  “Two more.”

  While we wait, I notice Charlie’s gaze lower to my chest, which seems pretty brazen until he asks, “Do you own any item of clothing that isn’t trademarked?”

  I pretend to think. “Nope. Even my underwear is DC.”

  He blinks. “Washington?”

  “The comics. Wonder Woman.”

  “Right.”

  “They had a thong version, but I think Diana Prince would opt for full coverage, don’t you?”

  He shifts awkwardly. “Can we stop talking about your underwear now?”

  “You brought it up.”

  “I was talking about your T-shirt.”

  I glance down at the Tree of Gondor design. “This one is lucky. I wore it last year on trivia night and my team won.”

  “In that case, I’ll plant myself right next to you.”

  I smirk. “It’s trivia, not a lawsuit.”

  “I already told you, I’m not a litigator.”

  “Maybe you should’ve been. Seems like winning is important to you.”

  He doesn’t answer. We’re greeted by cheers when we deliver the pitchers to our section.

  “If I’d have known beer could garner such a positive response, I would’ve had a keg delivered to the camp,” Charlie says.

  Gloria lifts her chin. “We don’t negotiate with blackmailers.”

  “Technically it’s bribery,” Charlie says.

  “Oh, in that case, you should have.”

  “There’s still time,” Angela quips. She pulls a pitcher closer to her and unwraps a straw. “What’s everybody else having?”

  Angela doesn’t need Charlie’s keg. I’m convinced she stores bottles of alcohol under the floorboards of her cabin. She would’ve made an excellent smuggler during Prohibition.

  We divide into teams and Charlie makes good on his promise to stay close to me. He slides into the booth and immediately pats the empty seat beside him. For some reason, it doesn’t occur to me to object, so I dutifully slide in beside him. Ben and Laura join us.

  We agree to call ourselves Balrog’s Revenge. Correction: we all agree except Charlie, who abstains because he doesn’t know what a balrog is.

  Laura covers her face. “I have secondhand embarrassment right now.”

  “What happened to the judgment-free zone?” Charlie asks, although he doesn’t actually seem bothered.

  “This is a field trip,” Laura replies. “We’re free to be as judgy as we want until we get back to the campground.”

  “In that case, I’d like to comment on the decor.” He points to a life preserver affixed to the wall. “Why is there a nautical theme in a mountain bar?”

  “Oh, that’s for emergencies. There’s a pond out back. Once in a while someone drinks too much and wanders into the water.”

  “That seems like a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

  “Only you would see opportunity in someone else’s tragedy,” Laura says.

  “Except it won’t end in tragedy because your man Nick thought ahead.” He points again to the life preserver.

  “There’s also a canoe outside,” I add, “although once in a while someone takes it out on the water when they probably shouldn’t.”

  Charlie stares at me. “I’m starting to think there might be an issue with overserving customers in this establishment.”

  “You don’t come here unless you intend to be overserved,” Laura tells him. “Nickers is best observed through the lens of beer goggles.”

  “Yes,” Charlie says slowly. “I’m beginning to get that impression.”

  I elbow him in the ribs. “I happen to be very fond of this place. You might as well settle in because you’ll be spending the next few hours inhaling the secondhand smoke.”

  “There’s no avoiding the smoke,” Laura agrees. “It’s like an alien species. You could hold your breath all night and it would still find a way to seep into your pores.”

  “Gee, this place gets more appealing by the minute. Anything I should know about the restroom?”

  I cringe. “Oh, I’d recommend going outside.”

  My suggestion amuses him. “That pleasant, huh?”

  “The smoke gets everywhere, but so does the sawdust.” I rock in my seat. “Trust me. It’s very uncomfortable.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  “Welcome back, campers,” a booming voice says.

  I look up as Manny places a Sharpie and paper in the middle of the neighboring table. “There you are. How’s it going?”

  “Excellent. I’m glad to see you here. Every year I worry it’ll be the last.” Manny drops paper and a Sharpie on our table. I snatch the purple pen before Charlie gets his hands on it. I’m the captain of this ship.

  “I have no intention of letting that happen,” I say. “Can’t say the same for this guy.” I bump Charlie with my elbow.

  “At what point will you decide that I’m on the level?”

  “At the point where you no longer represent Cricket’s archnemesis,” Laura answers.

  The ends of Charlie’s mouth hitch up in amusement. “Riggieri is your archnemesis? Why didn’t you say so? I wouldn’t have passed along his proposal if I’d realized you were mortal enemies.”

  My face feels flushed. “Laura is exaggerating. I don’t have any enemies. I love people.”

  “Clearly. That must be why you isolate for ten months,” Charlie quips. “All that love for everybody.”

  “Not Patrick,” Laura says. “There’s no love lost there.”

  If there is a god, the crack in the booth would open up right now and swallow me whole.

  Ben fills Laura’s half-empty glass. “Here you go, Laura. Something to keep your mouth busy.”

  “Who’s Patrick?” Charlie asks.

  Before anyone can answer, Manny officially kicks off trivia night. Inwardly, I’m relieved. I was having fun. No need to throw a rotten apple into the bunch and spoil it.

  Manny is like the lovechild of a game show host and an auctioneer. He says many words in a short span of time and manages to sound like your biggest cheerleader, even if you’re not convinced he remembers your name.

  “First category of the evening is Influential Television Shows.”

  The announcement is followed by high fives and fist bumps. This group slays TV shows, which means the competition will be fierce.

  Laura’s gaze rests on Charlie. “Well, we know who the dead weight will be for this category,” she mutters.

  I try to look on the bright side. “Hey, if there’s a sports category, we’re golden.”

  She perks up. “Good point. Last year they had that run of questions about tennis, and nobody answered a single one correctly.”

  There are five questions in each category. We write down the answers after conferring with our teammates, and then Manny goes through them at the end of each round. The noise level drops by a few decibels because no one wants a neighboring table to overhear their proposed answers, unless you’re deliberately trying to mislead your competitors, which is Hunter’s style, so we know to tune him out.

  “I’ve only seen one of these shows,” Charlie comments, once we jot down the fifth answer.

  “Which one?” I ask.

  He taps Bill Nye the Science Guy.

  “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a science nerd.”

  “I’m not. My younger brother Michael is, though. He’s the reason I ended up watching it.”

  “Did he become a scientist?” Laura asks.

  “A surgeon.”

  Ben’s eyebrows perform a dance of approval. “Your parents must be very proud.”

  Charlie hesitates. It’s brief but I notice. “Yeah, of course,” he says. “Three successful kids. What parents don’t want that for their children?”

  “What does your other sibling do?” Ben asks.

  “She’s a professional golfer.”

  Ben nods as he guides his glass back to his lips. “Your family gatherings must be so fascinating.”

  “That’s one way of describing them.” Charlie dabs his forehead with a cloth napkin. “Does this place have air conditioning? It’s sweltering.”

  “Who wears long sleeves in summertime?” I shoot back.

  “We’re in the mountains. I expected the temperature to drop at night.” He unbuttons his sleeves and pushes up the fabric to expose a pair of well-toned forearms. I don’t often see muscles like that at camp. Most of the men are more interested in lifting their comic book collection than weights.