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

Maya’s eyes grew wider.

“I know. I know. It is very rude isn’t it?” Zormna ducked her head. “But I’ve never seen a person your color before, and…I just want to know if it’s real.”

“I’m for real,” Maya choked on a laugh. She then set her hand on her hip and pulled back her head. “Are you for real?”

Zormna blinked, looked about herself, not sure to respond.

Maya smiled cautiously, then said, “You have a different accent. Are you Irish?”

Zormna nodded sheepishly, though her eyes shifted since she really hated lying. “Yeah. Where are you from?”

“San Diego,” Maya replied, still smiling.

Zormna felt even more stupid. She had expected something a little more exotic sounding. But then again, the woman had a regular TV-American accent. And not the Southern kind or the New York kind. Rubbing her scalp, Zormna grinned with embarrassment. “I must sound really idiotic.”

“At least you’re willing to admit it.” And Maya went back to cleaning up the mats.

Zormna followed after her, lifting a mat up then taking another, carrying them to the cupboard. She glanced back out the door where she noticed Holly was standing around the craft lodge. Sighing, she returned to the intern. “That girl was Holly Joyce. She thinks I’m trying to scare you off.”

Maya peered out the door, holding one of the mats to her chest.

Zormna leaned with her. Zormna flashed a snarky wave at Holly who, upon seeing her, indignantly turned away as if she was heading somewhere but was lost for a moment. 

Zormna snickered. 

Maya leaned back in the lodge and stared at Zormna now. “Why would she think that?”

With a casual shrug Zormna, replied, “She thinks I scared the last intern away. That’s why.”

“Did you?”

Flushing red, Zormna laughed as she lied. “No, I talked with her, and something I said reminded her she had prior responsibility. But I didn’t make her leave.”

“Huh.” Maya gave a shrug, collecting the rest of the mats off the floor. “So what was the thing she had to do?”

“I don’t know,” Zormna still lied. “She just rushed out suddenly. I suppose that is why Holly blames me.”

“Do you just have that effect on people?” Maya asked with a tilt of her head and a smirk.

Zormna knew she did, but she tried to pretend that the idea was absurd. “I don’t think I do.”

She met Maya’s eyes. In that split second Zormna read incredulity, but Maya erased it with a smile.

“Hmm. Well, nice to meet you….” Maya led out, waiting for Zormna’s introduction.

“Zormna Clendar.” Zormna nodded, though she now watched Maya with a different gaze. This woman was smart. Intuitive. It made her wonder.

Maya stuck out her hand for a shake, grinning. “Maya Brown.”

Zormna took her hand. When their skin connected, she felt shivers run up her arm, though she didn’t know why. Maya’s hand was warm, soft, feminine. Her grip was friendly. Yet she blinked again with a nod and let go.

“Nice to meet you too,” Zormna said. “And good-bye.”

“Good bye?” Maya pulled back, bewildered.

A more serene grin spread on Zormna’s lips as she shrugged, though she walked to the door. “At least for today.”

Maya watched while Zormna left, shaking her head. Then she continued to roll up the mats to prepare for dinner.

The other camp counselors and workers entered the lodge a few moments after and helped the lady set up the hall, making sure the tables were in the same configuration as lunch. The man that had come to camp with Maya greeted her with a kiss when he entered the hall. He squeezed her hand then parted to help carry a table out into the open floor. They pulled out the benches from the closets as the new cook’s helper put out the materials for the dinner preparation. He had changed into less ratty clothes—camp shirt replacing the stained one. By then the Billsburg baseball team turned up for KP. 

Each operation ran like clockwork. They moved the benches and placed them behind the tables. Maya helped out with a slight O.C.D. adjustment to the benches so they matched up. Several of the boys watched her as she did it, though one purposely made a bench crooked just to see if it bothered her. The man that had come with her also adjusted the tables and benches for straightness, nodding to his wife as if to comfort her. When everything was set up, the new cook’s helper gently nodded to the two.

They rang the dinner bell at five minutes to six. The crowd flooded in, filling the hall with rapidity. The lines stretched out of the lodge as usual. As the tables filled up and divided to their territorial parts, they all dug in to their meal like starved prisoners that had worked on a chain gang all day

Zormna had rushed to the food line like the rest, changed from her gymnastics’ uniform into a pair of shorts and one of her red Pennington Pirate shirts, her head damp from a quick shower. She continued to ignore the jabs and teasing of her fellow cheerleaders as they talked about how wonderful the water in the lake was and how sorry they were that she had to miss out on their fun for gymnastics. A downpour of giggles echoed within the line, while they took what the cooks dished upon their plates. Zormna casually peeked in to see who was serving their dinner and sighed with relief when she saw the Billsburg team. When she got to where they were serving the food, she picked up her tray and peered at the options.

“Mashed potatoes? No thanks.”

But before she could pull away her tray, the cook’s helper dumped a large spoonful onto her plate. Staring down at the lump uncomfortably, Zormna grimaced, automatically feeling sick in her stomach while a slight throb started in her temples. The smell of them alone gave her a headache.

“I don’t want any,” she said, handing the tray back.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” the new helper responded.

“Well, I’m not begging. I don’t want them,” she said, shoving the tray back with a scowl.

He refused to take it, waving at her to go down the line with the ladle.

She glared at him, taking in his unfamiliar face. Irritably, she took her tray to the next part of the line, huffing.

When Jeff shuffled his way through the meal line with his friends, he hardly paid attention to what was served. He didn’t bat an eye at the new food server except to ask for more gravy, keeping his private suspicions to himself. He was hungry and sore. And that was all that mattered to him at that moment anyway. Brian, Mark and Jonathan joked around as usual, hoping to bring Jeff’s spirits up. He had returned to the cabin with his ukulele a little too subdued for their tastes, and that worried them. Jeff was a little creepy when he brooded.

The line moved quickly enough. Soon everyone was sitting down in their usual spots in the lodge. The boys sat in their usual spot next to the fireplace where they devoured their meal. The girls took their usual table.

The gossip and chatter of the girls echoed in the hall along with the loud laughter of the boys. Zormna hardly spoke except to lean to the others and mention a new prank the girls could play that night. Though no one figured out who really put the powdered drink in the showers, Jennifer and Zormna already had formulated a plan for protection against retaliation—plus some more pranks perfect for their continual war. And though Joy had expressed her disappointment and disapproval, the girls were eager to join in. But eventually Michelle Clay took over the plotting because she wanted to be on top of everything, chiming in with the ideas Zormna had to own them. Though really, if anyone had been listening in, Zormna would have come across as an extremely devious girl. The rest of their conversation was about boys and silly crushes, which Joy was happy to divert to, as she didn’t like the sneaky side of Zormna.

And dinner passed without event. After evening announcements and singing, the campers were let out for evening free time where some waded in the lake and other went singing around the campground. Some roasted marshmallows at the bonfire in the fire pit near the shore. Others played tag on the grassy knoll. But as for Zormna and Jeff, they parted as soon as dinner had finished. Jeff had gone back to his cabin to moan and heal, and Zormna ran out with Joy and Jennifer to gather pinecones to throw into the fire pit. But both could feel something looming close, something they could not see yet.

I was nothing more than an almost innocent bystander—Captain Jack Sparrow—

Jeff’s recovery time on Friday was spent less in his own cabin and more in the craft cabin where he serenaded girls and boys making dream catchers and popsicle-stick bird cages, strumming his ukulele in between sanding the thing. He had already gotten all the stickers off. The coach did not require him to join the wrestling camp until that afternoon. And it was only so he could have Jeff stretch and let him look at his wounds.

Coach Murphy went speechless when Jeff removed his shirt. And though Jeff’s bruises were ugly and purple, they did not compare to the long-healed burn scars on his back. They covered his back from his neck down to the small of his back, mostly. Some stretched onto his arms and lined up when Jeff hunched over for the coach to examine the bruises on his spine. When Jeff got them, they realized, he had been most likely on his knees in the fetal position.

As a rule, Jeff avoided letting people looking at his back long. He had always changed quickly in PE. And at camp, he attempted to get dressed in the shower stall or early in the morning when no one was awake. And he hadn’t gone swimming yet. Not that his friends didn’t know about his scars. But they made most people squeamish.

“How did these happen?” Coach Murphy murmured.

Jeff chuckled, pulling his shirt down to cover them. “Damon didn’t do it, so don’t worry.”

But overcome, the coach leaned back with enormous sympathy anyway, gazing at Jeff as if he was not sure if he needed a hug or lots of space. The coach was figuring the latter.

“Look,” Jeff said, weakly smiling, trying to make light of it, “It’s done and over with. And I’m not in that bad situation anymore. So, I’m ok.”

The coach sighed heavily. He shook his head. “I…I am just so…sorry that someone did that to you.”

Jeff shrugged again.

“How can you be so light about it?” Coach Brown asked, amazed and yet unable to let go of what he had just seen.

Looking up at the new coach, Jeff only smirked. He barely had time to get to know the man. Coach Cameron Brown had a patient demeanor. He was the kind of man that could teach an idiot without getting upset—which was