A Parthan Summer by Julie Steimle (intellectual books to read TXT) 📕

Jeff scowled.

“I saw your bloody nose,” Zormna murmured.

Miss Betiford stared at Jeff for a moment then scrambled for a cotton ball in a burst of trembling energy.

“I’m fine!” He protested, lifting his hands as the counselor attempted to dab under his nose anyway. “It already stopped bleeding.”

“Did he break it?” Zormna asked, peering with one eye open, mildly curious. Her headache was slowly dissipating to a dull pain.

Jeff scowled at her again. “No. He doesn’t have your talent.” 

Zormna growled. “For the last time. That was an accident!”

Miss Betiford stared wider at Zormna then Jeff. But he waved it away, mouthing, ‘Don’t worry about it.’

Mr. Hardt stood outside the cabin, motioning to the two FBI agents to step back with him to talk. Both men nodded and walked away to the lodge.

Carefully removing the cloth off of Zormna’s forehead, Miss Betiford soaked it again in cool water. She shook her head sadly as she murmured, “You are so awfully pale.”

“That’s nothing,” Zormna muttered.

Miss Betiford didn’t seem to hear. “Both of you could use a little more red meat, put some color in your cheeks.”

Smirking, Jeff laughed loud and stood up. “Zormna, you look fine. I’m going back to my group.”

Zormna peeked open an eye then sat up. “But what about them?”

He stiffened with a glance at Miss Betiford. “Yeah…well, we’ve got witnesses now, so it’s not like they can just snatch you from camp. Everyone will notice.”

Miss Betiford drew in a sharp breath.

He headed to the door.

Hurrying after him, Miss Betiford pulled Jeff aside. “Tell me the truth. What’s really going on here?”

Groaning with a nod, Jeff gestured for them to step further out. Once they were just outside the doorway, he gravely whispered, “Look, I don’t know what Zormna did or didn’t tell you. But, uh, the FBI are a problem. I know this is going to sound crazy but, during the last school year Zormna vanished for three days. No trace, no explanation, and no memory of what happened. She came back with a bullet wound in her leg and a major headache.” He shook his head as if he thought he would go crazy thinking about it. “Now, she and I never really got along. But the guy whose family she lives with asked me to watch out for her, as he and I are friends. And between you and me—and all the others who know about it—we all think the FBI took her and did something to her.”

Miss Betiford stepped back. “You can’t be serious.”

Jeff crossed his heart and whispered. “Go ahead and ask Zormna.” 

But her eyes widened as if she already knew what Zormna would say and she didn’t believe it.

“Trust me.” He lifted his eyebrows knowledgeably, stepping farther from the cabin. “Her famous, but crazy great aunt was murdered and the FBI are following her. The rest we do not know. Just…make sure she has a bottle of aspirin handy, just in case.”

Miss Betiford stepped back into the infirmary doorway. She peeked at where Zormna rested with closed her eyes allowing the medicine to do its work.

Nodding to her, Jeff walked back through the main campground toward the lodge.

He went at a stroll. After all, he really did not want to go back to a fight with Monroe wrestlers. He had had enough of that already. Also, he knew those FBI agents were probably waiting for him somewhere. This problem had to be ‘nipped in the bud’, as it were.

As if on cue, when he had barely passed the craft cabin, the two federal agents stepped in front of him.

Jeff halted, frowning at the pair. “What do you want?”

The first agent stepped closer to him. “We have a few questions to ask you.”

“I already answered the questions Agents Whatever and Whoever asked me last time.” Jeff leaned against the cabin wall, folding his arms and crossing his legs casually. “What else do you people need to know?”

The agents glanced at one another.

The first started. “Zormna called you Jafarr.”

Jeff groaned. Zormna’s common use of his real name had already done its damage. But he already had taken care of that mishap long ago. Records had long been altered.

“That’s my name,” he said. “My mother named me after the villain in Aladdin. Get you laughs out now.”

The men nodded to each other. One was about to speak, but Jeff butted in. “And, pray tell, what are your names? Isn’t that protocol after all?”

The first agent squared his shoulders as he spoke. “I am Agent Palmer, this is Agent Powell.”

“Cool.” But Jeff didn’t let them finish. He added with clear amusement, “Palmer and Powell—nice sound to it. Did you ever consider playing the dynamic duo on TV? You’d make a classy crime-fighting team. Just imagine…” Lifting his hands into the air and staring into space, Jeff said, “Palmer and Powell save the world from a fourteen-year-old-girl. Palmer and Powell will stop at nothing! Palmer and Powell—”

“Cut the garbage, Jafarr. We want to know why Zormna Clendar asked for you instead of someone else when it is pretty obvious that she doesn’t actually like you. And why does she call you by that name?” The man stepped dangerously forward. 

And Jeff took a step back from him. “I told you. Jafarr is my name. I just happen to go by Jeff to save me from social agony. As for her calling for me, Todd McLenna asked me to watch out for her.”

“How did you know she was only fourteen, and not sixteen like her records say?” Agent Powell said, looming barely even three inches away.

Jeff pushed the man back. “Hey! Watch it! You’re awfully close! Perv!”

“Answer the question,” though this time Agent Powell gave Jeff room. 

“Look, you big jerkoff,” Jeff snapped. “How else does anybody know how old someone is? They tell you.”

“She told you?” Agent Palmer looked skeptical.

Delivering such a dry look, Jeff replied, “Fine. You need to hear the same lame story I have already told everyone else? Including those two morons who asked me last time? Don’t you keep records? Look, it is no secret. Zormna and I go way back. My parents had unceremoniously dumped me and my brother at an Irish military school for two weeks while they were on a vacation in Europe. That’s where I met her. And I’d love to forget her, but she left a lasting impression on my nose.”

Pausing for them to clue in, Jeff said, “See this scar?” pointing to the one on his nose, “And this one?” pointing to the one on his cheek. “She did that.”

“And about her being fourteen?” the agent asked, pressing the subject.

“Duh.” Jeff replied with disgust. “I knew how old she was at the military school. Besides she was such a brain there, I just figured she skipped a grade.” Scowling, he added, “This is stupid. Can I go now?”

The agent stepped forward again. “One more. Why did she call for you and not for one of her other friends?”

Jeff rolled his eyes, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. Any ally would have been good for a distraction. So far it was just them alone.

“I told you.” Jeff growled. “Todd McLenna—“

“Give me a break,” the agent said. “Why would that McLenna boy choose you over that Henderson boy? Hmm?”

“He didn’t,” Jeff said. “He told all of us to watch out for her. But she chose me.”

“And why did she choose you?”

Jeff huffed. “Who knows the mind of a woman?”

They glared at him.

“Maybe Zormna believed I would kick your butt,” Jeff snapped. “Brian is a softie who believes in turning the other cheek. And I have a police record.”

They did not respond to that. It had, after all, made complete sense. Jeff hoped rather than believed that it was enough to convince them, though. After all, a dark glare had settled in the FBI agents’ looks as if they were watching him. Maybe they were thinking nasty thoughts about Todd McLenna’s lack of ‘patriotism’—being more pro ‘Irish’ rather than for the FBI. But the man only nodded politely with a glance at his partner.

Leaving, Agent Powell said, “Sorry to have bothered you. Good day.”

Jeff shook his head as he watched them turn toward their car. Heading again to the lodge, Jeff glanced back at them once more with a shake of his head, keeping his reactions light.

Yet turning around once more, Agent Palmer said before entirely leaving, “Oh, Jafarr—”

“Jeff,” he corrected him rather curtly, bristling.

“Yes, Jeff. What language is that name from anyway?”

Jeff smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “Arabic probably. The villain from Aladdin, remember?”

The agent nodded and opened his car door. Both climbed inside.

Agent Powell proceeded to dial on his cell phone. Jeff’s eyes narrowed just a bit as he turned back toward the lodge. With a glance at his partner, Agent Powell listened to his cell phone ring as his partner started the car.

“Hello, Sicamore? We have a slight problem. We need to run a background check on a boy named Jeff Streigle. He may also go under the alias Jafarr.” 

The agent listened to the other side, nodding.

“Yes, you can finally send operatives. But don’t send any that have dealt with her during the three-day investigation. That girl’s still remembers things.” He paused longer, listening. “I see. Ok…. Yes, I need that information on that boy ASAP. Oh, and find that military school in Ireland…. No, I don’t think it exists.”

They pulled out of the camp parking lot.

Jeff listened as it rumbled away, breathing a bit more freely when he was sure it was gone. He entered the lodge to join his class. But he found the hall empty. A note hung, attached to the door. It read:

Streigle,

       Roses are red, and you are dead.

Jeff crumpled the paper, tossing it into the trashcan.

There ain't much fun in medicine, but there's a heck of a lot of medicine in fun—Humorist John Billings—

Miss Betiford stared down at Zormna. She seemed to be sleeping deeply after such a headache. Zormna’s eyes lay gently closed and her arms rested across her chest, relaxed. The counselor did not know what to do with this ostensibly fragile girl. Besides being entirely sheet white without even the slightest blush, Zormna’s thin hands and short stature made her look like one nudge would knock her over. The counselor would have believed Zormna was a tender frightened child if she hadn’t already witnessed her sarcastic temper. That, and the girl’s thin arms were in actuality mostly lean muscle that flexed when she walked. But the girl definitely didn’t seem stable—mentally or emotionally.

While she watched Zormna breathe softly, her chest rising and falling, accompanied with a few hushed moans, her own thoughts raced. What was true? What was garbage? After meeting two real FBI agents, that scarred boy with the haunting eyes and witnessing Zormna’s complete meltdown, she didn’t know anymore.

 The silence broke with a soft knock at the door. The door had been left open, and Michelle Clay with the other cheerleaders of Pennington High stood in the doorway.

“Is she all right?” Michelle leaned in with concern for her teammate.

Jennifer, Joy, and Stacey stood right behind their team captain, whispering to the others.

What could Miss Betiford say? The woman flushed with a glance at Zormna. Was