using titles. This guy is straight out of the Middle Ages.
“I’ll introduce them to you now, ladies first. Ladies, if you’ll please stand up when I introduce you? Ms. Tara is the assistant counselor for the girls, Ms. Summer is the head counselor for the girls and Ms. Ginny is our cook and first-aid counselor.”
Summer smiled and waved at Ginny and Charlie Prichard, who stood behind the serving counter. Ginny was a retired school nurse and Charlie a retired electrician. They were her parents’ best friends. Summer had known and loved them her whole life, considered them the closest thing she had to godparents. She knew they would side with her against Rick if it came to that.
“That’s Mr. Charlie standing next to Ms. Ginny. He’s the camp director. Next to him is Mr. Kenny, our security guard. You won’t see too much of him because he patrols at night and sleeps most of the day. Over here is Mr. Neil, the boys’ assistant counselor. And I’m Mr. Rick, boys’ head counselor and assistant director of the camp.”
Right. We’ll see how long that lasts.
“Rule number two. Never step foot outside the camp without an adult.”
Okay, that was a good one.
“And rule number three. Always use the buddy system. Never go anywhere near the woods or the water without a buddy. When we’re hiking and swimming, we’ll always have a buddy to watch out for. Understood?”
A few of the kids murmured, “Yes,” and a few others nodded.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yes!” the kids shouted.
“Yes, what?” Rick cupped his hand behind his ear.
A few caught on. “Yes, Mr. Rick.”
Rick beamed with pleasure, and Summer’s toes curled involuntarily. She looked away, disgusted by her body’s reaction.
“Great. Now...do you have any questions?”
“Can I uthe my thell phone?” The question came from a chubby boy with a distinct lisp. Two of the girls giggled and Rick shot them a look that withered them in their seats.
Eight- and nine-year-olds with cell phones? When she’d been here, writing letters home every week was required.
“Yes, Willard.” Rick’s answer surprised Summer more than the question had. She’d been definite Mr. Nineteenth Century would say no. “But only in the case of an emergency. If there’s no emergency, and we don’t anticipate there’ll be one, it remains in your bunk area and turned off. Got that?”
“Yeth, Mithter Rick.”
“Any other questions?”
“What if we don’t like what there is to eat? I don’t like a lotta things.”
Without looking, Summer already could identify the characteristic whine belonging to Lucy.
“Hmm. I guess you’ll get hungry.”
Summer cringed at Rick’s tone, and then smiled to herself. Charlie might want to get rid of this guy immediately.
“But you need to try to eat every meal because you’re going to need lots of energy. We have so many fun things planned, and you’re going to want to be able to do them all. Any other questions?” No other hands went up. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have some eventually, so don’t hesitate to ask one of us when you do. Now—” he gave the group a wink “—is everybody ready for a snack?”
“Yes, Mr. Rick!” The answer resounded from both of the long tables.
“Okay then, Ms. Ginny has something ready for us. Line up single file and be sure to tell her thank-you.”
Three of the boys jumped up and made a dash for the serving line.
“Uh-uh-uh, gentleman.” Rick motioned them back to their seats. “Ladies first.”
He’d done that twice, and it was already beginning to get old. Another point of contention to speak with him about.
The girls made a wild dash, flashing one-upping grins at the boys as they picked up their boxes of apple juice and paper plates filled with grapes, carrots and cinnamon graham crackers smeared with peanut butter.
Each of the girls said a polite thank-you to Ginny and Charlie as they took their food.
“Rick’s gonna have these kids whipped into shape in no time, Summer.” Charlie pushed more plates to the front as he spoke. “That’ll sure make our jobs easier.”
Irritation burned Summer’s throat. Surely, Ginny and Charlie didn’t approve of Rick’s strong-arm tactics. “Whipped might be one way to describe them, Charlie, but we have to remember they’re only eight- and nine-year-olds. We want them to have fun, too.”
“They’ll have fun.” Rick’s deep voice right beside her startled her. She stepped back with her plate as the boys hurried through the line and made for the outdoors. “Being well behaved and having fun aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“I’ll bet Summer disagrees with that, Rick. She was a bit