He was clearly beyond angry at Tristan, but he wasn’t expressing it with yelling or any kind of theatrics. “You are an embarrassment.” His tone was cold—icy—and utterly controlled. Somehow that was scarier than a more overt display of rage would have been. “You are fired from the music group, and if I have anything to say about it, this is it for you at camp.” They stood facing each other, Tristan blinking, eyes wide, and Teddy staring, eyes narrow. “Come with me,” he finally said, and he turned, apparently trusting that Tristan would follow.
He did.
I did my best to shake off the encounter and went to dinner. I often got my food to go after a long day, but I was still feeling off. Unsettled. So I collected my taco salad and banana pudding—oddly, I was going to miss camp food—and sat by Jack, the only other artist present.
We nodded at each other and ate in silence for a minute.
“How’s the book coming?” I finally asked, just for something to say.
He didn’t answer. Why had I ever expected Jack Branksome to be chatty?
But then he said, “It’s not. I haven’t done shit since I got here, and to be honest, I hate myself for it.”
I almost choked on a piece of taco shell.
Wow. I didn’t particularly like Jack, but I didn’t wish him ill, and the idea of him hating himself, much less copping to it, was making me reevaluate him. “Maybe that’s OK. Part of the point of being here is resting and recharging. Creativity isn’t a widget you can produce on demand.” Lest he think I was being too presumptuous, I added, “I mean, maybe. I don’t know. I’m not a writer.”
He shrugged like I wasn’t automatically and/or totally wrong.
I decided to press my luck. “Do you have a hard deadline?”
“January first.”
A little less than six months from now. I didn’t know if that was a lot of time or not a lot of time when it came to book writing. “Maybe you can really crank on it starting next week when you’re in between camp sessions.”
“You’d think I could,” he said in a way that was self-deprecating enough to make me continue reevaluating his whole persona. I wasn’t sure how to respond, but I didn’t have to, because I heard a low “Hey” from behind me.
Teddy, carrying a dinner tray, and sliding onto the bench next to me.
“Hi.” I raised my eyebrows, not sure what to say in this context.Thanks for rescuing me?I didn’t like to think of myself as the kind of person who needed rescuing. Especially from a teenager. But I could not deny it had been nice to have the Tristan problem handled. And more than that, it had been good to have someone have my back. Well, not someone. Teddy.
That was an alarming thought I should probably analyze later. Or not. I didn’t have that much longer at Wild Arts, so why bother?
“I hope you don’t think I overstepped with Tristan,” Teddy said. I smiled. It was like he could hear my thoughts. “I happened to overhear what he was saying to you, and I felt responsible. He was a music kid, and I was the one who stuck you with him. But you were handling it. I should have let it be.”
“No, I was happy to have him be your problem.” I sent him a jokey smile, both to show there were no hard feelings and to cover my own unease at how much I had enjoyed being rescued by Teddy.
He squirted some hot sauce on his taco salad. “Well, he’s Marion’s problem now. She’s kicked him out and called his parents, and she’s driving him to Duluth to meet them.”
Jack made a noise that was half astonishment, half inquiry, so I turned to him and said, “Shitty kid had a meltdown and called me some unflattering things, and Teddy went on the warpath.”
“Mm.” Jack looked back and forth between us. “I see how it is.” He shot me a smile-smirk hybrid, but not an unkind one. I knew he was thinking of the condom he’d given me, but apparently he was going to keep that thought to himself and not be a jerk about it. Could have knocked me over with a feather.
“We were just talking about Jack’s book, which is due January first and isn’t coming along,” I said to Teddy.
Jack rolled his eyes and said, “It isn’t even starting along.”
“Yikes,” Teddy said.
“I’m about to email my agent and ask how long I can push it until they make me give the advance back.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have been so quick to turn your nose up at Blair Kellermoon,” Teddy said jokingly.
“Maybe so.”
I waited for the sneer, but it didn’t come. Had Wild Arts mellowed Jack? If so, forget crones in the woods, this really was a magical place. “We’re having a campfire tonight. You should come.”
Jack shrugged noncommittally.
