happen.”
“How long have they been at this? How long’s the camp been here?”
“Thirty years.”
Gabi felt her eyebrows fly upward. “Seriously?”
“Yup. Oliver used to be a victims’ advocate in the court system. After a few years, he figured he could do kids more good by trying to intercept them before they got to the court system, so he applied for a slew of grants, and dumped every last cent into buying this piece of property. He ran it as a normal camp for a lot of years while he built it up, and then as time went on, he narrowed the focus so it catered to at-risk boys, mostly teenagers.”
Gabi blew out a breath, picturing kindly old Oliver spending his entire salary—which, like any public servant who did the most important work in the universe, was probably dismal—building a getaway for boys who so desperately needed one. She pictured Sam and Eve, who’d probably never had a chance to attend a camp before this lousy summer, and wondered how different they might be if they’d been given the chance to come somewhere like Camp Echo when they were younger.
“So really what you’re saying, Piper, is that my school has come in like a stereotypical corporate shmuck, and is railroading a man whose entire life has been focused on creating a safe, structured camp for kids who probably have very little of either of those qualities in their day-to-day lives?”
Piper put up both hands, palms up. “I’m not sure I said it quite that strongly.”
“Shit.”
Piper’s eyes widened, and then she laughed. “I’ve never heard you swear.”
“You’ve only known me for a week.”
“But still. Unexpected.”
“Even rich bitches swear, Piper.”
“Hey.” Her hands went up again, placating this time. “I never said that.”
Gabi closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know where that came from.”
“Maybe from constantly dealing with people assuming you are? Rich and bitchy, I mean?”
“Well, I’d be glad to show them my bank balance. It’d at least end the rich part of the equation.”
“You’re not bitchy, Gabi. Or if you are, you cover it well.”
Gabi looked down, scraping the last of her nail polish from her thumbnail. “Seems like Luke had the girls and I pegged well before we got here, and now I’m stuck fighting his assumptions, because of what he thinks my school is doing to his camp.”
“Can you really blame him? I mean, no offense, but really?”
“No.” Gabi sighed. “I guess not.”
“He’s just going by experience, Gabi. And to his credit, he does seem to be trying to put it aside, at least. He is helping you.”
“He is.” Gabi nodded. “He definitely is, and on one hand I’d love to just be grateful and thankful. But on the other hand, I can’t figure out if he’s doing it because he really does want to help, or because he’s afraid if he doesn’t help, he’ll be mounting a search party for my runaway girls within a week.”
“I imagine it’s a little bit of both.”
Gabi smiled. “Thanks. That was the part where you were supposed to weave a little platitude to make me feel better.”
“Oh.” Piper laughed. “Sorry. Missed it.”
“He walks around that camp like he owns the place, and he and Oliver have way more of a partner-ish sort of relationship than a director-to-handyman one. He’s got survival skills, and he can teach them.” She paused. “And he’s frighteningly intuitive about my girls. It doesn’t quite compute. He plays at being this uneducated handyman, but I’m not buying it.”
“You don’t think camp handymen come with the power to understand teenage females?”
Gabi snorted. “Does anyone come with that power?”
“Good point.”
“Did he go to college?”
Piper sighed, but continued smiling. “Are you here to do laundry? Or play Twenty Questions about the hot handyman?”
“I’m not—no.” Gabi felt her cheeks flush. “I’m just curious, that’s all. And he doesn’t like to talk about himself, at least to me.”
“Give him time. He’s kind of a grumpy old cuss, for a man so young. He’ll warm up eventually.”
“How long does this process generally take?”
“Well, a week ago, Luke was dead sure you were a princess getting brought down a peg for the summer, so that has to enter in.”
“I’m not a prin— Never mind.” Gabi took a deep breath, knowing Piper couldn’t possibly have any idea how deeply her words cut, and why. “I’m not the stereotype he has in his head. I’m really not.”
Piper smiled. “Might not be my place to say so, but I think he’s already figuring that out.”