minajesty
she/her. ⋆𝜗𝜚
TABLE FIVE
DINNER GROUP POST
T
he yawn that Connie succumbed to on her leisurely walk towards the glowing Dining Hall was more than the budding exhaustion that made her eyelids feel heavy. It was a result of, what she hoped would be a pleasant outing in Easthallow with her friends, wringing the rest of her energy into nothing but a bleak expression to show for it—evident in the way the involuntarily deep inhale melted into a sigh.So much for a reprieve. The thought crossed her mind more than once, beginning from when she deposited her costume on her bunk—and discreetly wondered if one less counselor at dinner would raise any suspicions while she rested there. The gloom, however, was hard to maintain with the kind of company the boating instructor welcomed to tag along beside her.
The kind of girl that, thankfully, forced Connie to keep up, Joey Auer harbored enough energy for the both of them combined as she closed the distance in an unwavering stride. Even if that wasn’t the case and Fancy That!, as well as the events that followed, depleted her energy in the same way, there were no signs. It looks like she could go on for hours, Connie briefly surveyed as the two counselors crossed the hall’s threshold and suddenly basked in the stark lighting that knocked some more life into her.
Falling into the usual routine for the evening, the boating instructor made a bee-line for the board that displayed their assigned tables for dinner and quickly skimmed the lists until she caught her name, and out of curiosity, looked over who’d accompany her. Alton, Joey—“Hey, we’re sitting together.” she threw a soft smile over at her friend now. “At five.” Connie then added as she moved away from the board in favor of their designated table.
An absent-minded Joey was occupied, leaning over the oval mirror fixed to the hall tree and intent on reapplying mascara to her newly dried lashes. No more crying. We're having fun tonight. She angled her face low to check for any straggling brush marks then dipped the wand back into its hot pink tube, a ritual she performed like clockwork. The brunette turned with a smile when Connie announced their seating arrangements, "Really?" she exclaimed, curiously glancing at the list before twirling on her heels to catch up. Levi too!
She wouldn’t be seated with any of her best girlfriends, but oddly, there was a strange relief in the fact that it could be so much worse. Given how the day had unfolded, nitpicking at the small stuff would just prolong the misery. She imagined what it would feel like, trapped between Rowan and Lou, or now, and somehow worse—between Kayden and Juliette. That scenario rose higher on the list of personal hells after today's outing.
Juliette.. It didn't feel good to hold onto whatever strange entity possessed her sweet friend and made her so vicious earlier. There was a quiet ache in her, a need to make sense of it if the chance came around. It wasn't like Juliette, but maybe she just wasn't paying attention. Joey knew she had the tendency for things to fly over her head. And then there was that absolute loser. She didn't even want to think about him. In fact, she hoped she'd never have to run into him again. When she caught up with Connie on the dirt path, it was the back and forth of rants and laughter that kept the circumstance lighter—saving her from the usual post-argument freak-out. Joey was thankful she'd been there for her.
Alt looked up to see Connie approaching the table. He’d gotten here a little earlier. He’d handed out the waters to the students, wandered aimlessly for a bit, and as he saw the flow of traffic into the Dining Hall, he joined in. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to the Med Bay. He’d have to see Marquis tomorrow and the next day and so on.
“Hey… uh… you,” he remarked at her, looking around at the kids that had sat down–not wanting a repeat of yesterday. Yet, something sparked in his brain as he looked around. “Connie,” he said in a demanding and surprised tone. “We need to talk about that weird wood carving you found. Another one showed up.”
Before Connie could pick a seat at the table—we need to talk about that weird wood carving you found. The sound of Alton’s voice had stopped her leisurely stride as the memory of last night began to resurface: the feeling of impending doom burrowing in her chest, the fire that ate the cabin in spite of the absence of smoke that should have engulfed her senses, and Rowan…
She swallowed hard. What did he see? The sound of Joey’s footsteps advancing behind her reached her ears, propelling her to take the empty seat beside the nurse. Or who—? Who did you see? Connie scooted her chair in and forced the urge to frown away. There’s kids around. “Lani just had Arts & Crafts this morning…”
A comfort tactic for no one but herself, part of her knew wholeheartedly that no art activity would, or could ever, explain the phenomenon that instilled a sense of fear as deep as the feeling she felt while running out of the woods; while running for her life. Still, fear was what urged Connie not to completely dismiss Alton’s revelation.
“Did you um—” a shaky exhale forced its way out of her nose in an attempt to calm the anxiety threatening to riddle her body. “where did you find it?” The counselor was suddenly grateful that most of the campers at their table were distracted by their own conversations.
Alt watched as Connie deflected so as not to make the kids too interested in their chat before sitting beside him. She leaned into his ear to ask a question. His lips twisted into a tight frown. He was just about to say something when Joey popped up.
“Hii, Alton!” Joey greeted, flashing a brief smile for her favorite nurse. She took the seat next to Connie, slinging her hand bag over the back rest. A few campers called out to her in loud, humorous whispers and Joey sat in her chair, twisting her body to face them and waving back.
She’d only caught the ends of her fellow counselors’ conversation, prompting her to return to situating herself comfortably in her seat. Joey leaned in towards both of them. “Wait… What are we talking about?” She lowered her tone, wide-eyed and concerned.
Willamina’s musk clung stubbornly onto Liberty’s skin on the journey home. After she and Levi stored the drinks in the Orca Cabin, she made a beeline for her cabin to shower off the stubborn stickiness of Easthallow’s humidity and met him on the path shortly after, hair half-dried as she scrunched a towel around the ends, and Marquis’ and Altons’ costumes in hand.
“Ready,” she announces to Levi with a reluctant nod towards the Dining Hall; the odds of them sitting together for dinner was low enough for the smile to barely reach her eyes.
An agreement had been made by the time they reached the end of the trail—a quick shower, then meet up again. Levi was more than okay with that. He needed to wash away the weight of the day, the lingering thoughts of Lisa’s disappearance, and whatever the hell that receipt bill meant.
He didn’t stay too long in the shower, unwilling to let his thoughts consume him. Ask Connie about it, he reminded himself, raking a hand through his damp hair as he waited. She was her friend too.
Costumes in hand—ready to give away, basically—Levi turned at the familiar sound of Liberty’s voice. His gaze dropped to the outfits in her arms. Same idea, he mused. “Ready.”
Eager to be free of the load in her arms, they step into the Hall together and her brows crunch briefly at the hustle and bustle. She turns to fix him with a surprised look, we’re that late? and catches sight of the dinner arrangements on the notice board behind his shoulder—her lips curve up, genuine. “Not free of me yet, Jackson.”
Trailing not too far behind, but close enough for the breeze to carry a faint trace of vanilla, Levi let his gaze drift to the blonde strands of Liberty’s hair. Distracted, he barely caught the end of her words, his focus shifting instead to the dinner arrangements ahead—already dreading the possibility of sharing a table with Thomas. Until—“Hey, we’re together.”
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he pivoted towards her, only to pause at the sight of her own genuine expression, oblivious to the fact he had missed what she’d said. His smile lingered as he tried to recover. “Reminds me of that time we spent nearly the entire day together. Who do you think has gotten into a fight? Or on the verge of getting kicked out this time now?”
“I remember.” Liberty says all too fondly, retracting her hand from the costumes slumped over her forearm to fiddle gently with the opal barbell at his brow. Her first glimpse of Jonathan Evergreen was a display of uncharacteristic frustration and boiling anger, offering the briefest moment of clarity for how Renee might’ve gotten away with so much—but it worked out, the two of them stealing a day to themselves.
Catching onto the end of his question, she raises both brows in consideration and turns to the counsellors gathered so far, dropping her hand. Luckily Theo isn’t a counsellor, the stray thought comes and goes, toying with the idea of Mona in her place—but, she’d never give Mona the satisfaction of seeing her out.
“I’m willing to guess… Marquis and Alton if this morning was anything to go by,” and from the unamused tone of her voice, it was clear she wouldn’t be fighting for the Suspects’ right to retain their job for much longer. She teasingly tilts her head towards Levi, meeting his gaze. “Or Thomas and you if you were so unlucky to be seated together.”
Adjusting the costumes in his grasp, Levi realized his mistake too late—warm fabric, bulky, and far too large to comfortably carry. Where the fuck am I gonna put this? He already knew he'd have to hand it off to Rowan and Elodie by the end of the day, preferably without drawing any more attention to himself than necessary.
At Liberty’s remark, he snorted, easily picturing a fight between Marquis and Alton playing out in his head. “I think Marquis would surprise us.” Catching her slight head tilt from the corner of his eye, he turned to face her, lowering his chin slightly—holding her gaze, that is, until Thomas was brought up.
“Hm.”
That was his only response at first as his eyes flickered around, scanning the unfortunate souls stuck sharing space with the resident entertainer. “Might not be so lucky for tonight, got plans.” He mused at last, a wicked grin tugging at his lips, sharp and borderline mean in its intentions. With a nod, he gestured towards their assigned table for the night. “For now, we deal with our own.”
Rounding the table to where Alton sat, sparing only a quick glance for their dinner mates, Liberty lifts the white sheet she’d purchased at Willamina. “One ‘thick white sheet’ for your upcoming nap at the campfire,” from its hovered position, she drops the material—without a flinch as it stirs the cutlery on the table before landing unceremoniously in his lap. “Might want to wash it.”
She refrains from making a comment about catching on fire. Even with last summer’s comments landing Alton as a suspect to the police, she knew better when his scarring was a result of an accident that spiralled his life, landing his frustrating presence back at the camp.
Neither of us are happy about it, and that was enough for her to round the table, planting herself across from Connie and leaving an open space for Levi.
Seeing the boating instructor caught Levi off guard—realizing he hadn’t actually read the dinner seating chart. His mouth twisted to the side before pressing into a faint line as he slid into the seat beside Liberty, positioning himself across from Joey. His gaze softened at the sight of her, offering a more genuine look before nodding in acknowledgment to the rest of the table.
“Table seems…tense,” he remarked, his tone light but observant. Then, shifting his focus, he asked, “How was shopping?” The question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular—he knew he’d be satisfied hearing from either Joey or Connie.
As he waited, his mind flickered back to the receipt. When’s the right time to bring it up? Joey had been close with Lisa too, and Alton—
Breaking the thought before it spiraled, Levi let his attention drift to him, elbow propped on the table, knuckle resting against his cheek. He doesn’t seem like the type to rat, he decided, settling in as he waited for dinner, costumes in lap.
Joey's face lit up when the two counselors came into view, wide smiles for both of them. "Hey! Shopping was good—” Except for.. “Well actually...” She shot a quick look at Connie, her done dropping a notch before diving right into the brunt of the story, "We ran into this creep on the way out and at first, he seemed okay, so we, like, helped him break into his car—’cause he was locked out—-and then he started acting really weird."
Liberty situates the cowboy attire over her lap, attention captured by the obnoxious belt buckle Levi had chosen as she fights a smile of mirth until Joey breaks into a spiel, mentioning a creep and… her head jerks up, one palm pressing hard into the table. “Was his name Hal?”
Liberty was not kidding about the smell. It had that consignment shop musk to it. Alt pushed it further down his lap, having been interrupted for the third time while trying to tell Connie something. When Joey and Liberty started talking, he took that as his chance to lean into Connie and whisper into her ear. It’d look wildly clandestine to anyone looking, but knowing Alt and Connie it would be anything but.
“Marquis found it in the Med Bay.” Alt glanced at everyone at the table, trying to alleviate suspicion while undoubtedly arousing it. “He acted really nervous afterward. Liberty was there, but also called it something from Arts and Crafts. The timeline doesn’t add up to that–”
Realizing it was probably getting immensely suspicious, he pulled away a bit and said in a louder tone. “Then Marquis started crying in front of the new therapist about how he wets himself at night. Fucking TMI, dude.”
Grateful, and more than willing to let Joey act as a spokesperson for their group’s run-in back in Easthallow—her jaw ticked in annoyance as Dakota resurfaced in her memory—, Connie turned her attention to Alton as his explanation came to a close, too disturbed at the second reappearance of a wooden carving to acknowledge his dig at Marquis.
“What do you mean by acting nervous?” Forgoing the inconspicuous act, the counselor schooled herself to respond calmly by suppressing the fear she felt while they were surrounded. Connie was (mostly) confident that the topic of conversation wasn’t exciting enough to meddle in anyhow, and besides—she needed to know what he meant. “Did he say anything else?”
A border between two conversations, however, she couldn’t help her discreetly divided attention as Liberty seemed to zero in on Joey’s retelling. Her eyebrows slightly wrinkled in the middle as she wondered, who’s Hal?
At first, it was fine—Joey greeted them with a beaming smile, and Levi easily returned it, grinning as if everything wasn’t so bad. For a moment, he could pretend.
But then Joey rushed into an explanation, and the grin slipped from his face, replaced by something more serious. He shifted in his seat, resting his forearms against the table, his gaze flickering between the faces around him. “What…creep?” Breaking in? His dark eyes flicked towards Liberty, about to point at the receipt—only to realize her bag wasn’t on her.
Alt paused in Connie’s ear and looked at the others. Who’s Hal? WHO’S Dakota? None of these names rang any bells for him. Yet, the conversation seemed so intense he was having a hard time finishing his thought.
Damn. Shaking off the disappointment—one Liberty told herself was normal, not every fact would fit a theory—her hand reaches down to rummage through her shoulder bag, only to realise the sensation of it was only a phantom and she’d left it back at the cabin. “At Willamina, we found…” she bites her lip, cutting off the words to throw an encouraging look at Levi. It should be him to explain the situation—three people at this table were close with Lisa and it was their conversation to have.
“Are you sure it wasn’t just some stranger taking advantage of a group of girls?” Levi’s tone betrayed his skepticism—everyone seemed too quick to jump to conclusions. Easthallow was small, sure, but it was still a town like any other. Things happened.
Regardless, he swallowed back his own reasoning, shifting his focus to Joey’s concern and confusion instead.
Joey opened her mouth to speak, but the words faltered, caught between the shift in Levi’s demeanor. Her skin prickled and she held her arms in an attempt to subdue the goosebumps. She looked at him as he spoke in frustration, listening actively.
“We found a receipt.” Levi decided not to beat around the bush any longer. He flashed Liberty a tight-lipped smile, hoping she’d catch the unspoken appreciation for letting him be the one to tell the table. “It’s back at the cabin, but the billing recipient is some guy named Hal Philips. And Lisa’s…” He hesitated just slightly. “Her name’s signed at the bottom.”
A hand dragged over his face, frustration creeping back in—she’s still missing, and we’re grasping at anything now. But sulking wouldn’t help, it never did. Just be honest. Blunt, if you have to.
We found a receipt…And Lisa’s—Lisa…? Connie’s face adopted a frown at the reminder of her friend’s disappearance, somehow slipping from her memory despite the constant back-and-forth reference of the man who seemed to find his amusement in the news of missing girls. It had been so fresh to her friend group, and there was an existing part of her that didn’t want to believe that history had repeated itself; that it happened again.
“She was buying a bunch of shit—paintbrushes, a jar, some coat. Probably picking up a new hobby, I don’t know. But the bill was signed nine days ago, right?” His gaze snapped to Liberty, posture straightening as his hand dropped to his lap. His leg started bouncing, anxiety taking root. Nine days, still time.
“Twenty-fourth of June,” Liberty confirms—she did the math as she showered; two Mondays ago, most likely a day off from helping out at Camp Evergreen in preparation for the new session. Her mouth opens and then closes, eager to share a theory or two, but the company at this table were the least likely to take her attempt at helping well. Instead, she hopes to settle their concerns with—“I’m going to contact Officer Jones in the morning as Leon suggested during Orientation.”
Alt was just confused. What the fuck is going on here? He thought he and Connie had some wild conspiracy, but apparently, it was a drop in the bucket compared to everything else. He knew Lisa and hot Officer Jones, so at least that made sense. And this Hal guy was implemented with Lisa, and maybe her disappearance? The rest was Greek to him.
Lisa... What was she doing? The question lodged itself in her throat, too heavy to voice. Joey bit the inside of her lip, her teeth pressing into the soft flesh as she fought the gnawing unease building within her. "Oh, god," she whispered, her voice thin and struggling to keep her voice down for the sake of the campers, "We have to tell him now!" She pushed herself up from her seat, fists held strong against the table as if that might ground her—steady her. Her shoulders withdrew, "Or... or something." Her voice wavered, then returned to a softness. "Sorry, I just have the worst feeling about this."
Her thoughts drifted back, foggy and disjointed, to the strange experience she'd had outside the costume store. She lowered her chin, eyes unfocused, trying to make sense of it all. When she finally looked up at Liberty, there was a strange, almost desperate clarity in her gaze.
"Lib, I want to come with," she announced, "I know it’s a different guy... but Dakota—there was something wrong with him, besides being a total jerk." She sank back into her seat, "The way he dressed, the way he talked—nothing about him fit. I’ve been here my whole life. Easthallow’s not a place where new people just show up, you know? Not like this."
"And maybe Officer Jones should know," she continued after a small pause, her words slipping out cautiously, like she wasn’t sure how much of this was real yet. Or how helpful she’d be about offering her own information to the case. Liberty was smart, she’d be real with her, she thought. The very least she could do was try. Nine days ago… Nine days ago someone saw Lisa.
Seated at the table, Levi’s posture remained tense as he watched Joey process the information they had laid before her. The corners of his mouth, once pressed into a thin line, slowly dipped into a visible frown. He wanted to tell her—we can’t go to Officer Jones yet with this. It was too soon, a bunch of assumptions. But saying that aloud would mean forcing his own beliefs onto her, dismissing the way she felt. And that wasn’t fair.
Inwardly sighing in quiet defeat, he shifted to stand, ready to coax her back down before she could make any rash decisions. But before he could act, Joey sank back into her seat, shoulders slumped, the weight of it all pressing down on her. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely above a whisper.
Without thinking, Levi reached out, his fingers gently curling around her hand, offering a soft, reassuring squeeze before pulling away. His touch was brief, a silent promise—we’ll find her. And we’ll get her back. “I guess it wouldn’t…hurt to reach out to him. I trust you.”
“You think a cop cares if someone is acting weird? My man couldn’t even solve a murder or kidnapping or whatever. He’s not going to care if someone named after a Colorado city is tweaking on meth or something.” Alt couldn’t help it. He had to chime in. He then pressed a look to Connie and mouthed, “we’ll talk later.”
In the midst of the internal war waging within the confines of her mind, the sound of Alton’s voice momentarily pulled Connie out of her thoughts before she offered a single nod “okay” at their scheduled regrouping. Though, she hadn’t been entirely engrossed enough to dismiss the air that grew rapidly thick with tension.
He noticed that the campers around them were engrossed in the conversation like a bunch of old bitties at BINGO night. “Ignore them; they’re just having some sort of rehearsal for an X-Files stage play they’re doing or something. Huge nerds.”
“Your man?” Levi echoed, his brows knitting together in mild confusion as he leaned back in his seat, unbothered by the prying campers. A slow blink followed before realization dawned on him, and his expression shifted. “Oh, right. You would be familiar with Officer Jones.”
Oh, right. You would be familiar with Officer Jones. Woah, wait—
His gaze flicked away momentarily, landing on Connie and Joey. A hint of apology flashed in his eyes—he had no intention of ruffling feathers, but irritation simmered beneath the surface. Joey’s obvious distress was being brushed aside, and that didn’t sit right with him.
“She’s scared,” he stated plainly, voice firm. “And she made a solid point.” His jaw tensed slightly before he added, “plus, being on meth is a crime.”
Meth?? The subtle apology that Levi had offered to Joey and herself faltered the moment the conversation became heated enough to derail into heavier topics, and she couldn’t help but throw a discreet look around at the campers, whose attention to their own conversations seemed to subside in an exchange for a louder one. “Guys, I don’t think—”
Liberty’s disapproving expression turns to Alton, unamused by his misguided comment. It shouldn’t have been frustrating to overhear—not when the pale blonde walked a thin line between witty and condescending; as was now apparently evident from the previous summer. Murders and kidnappings weren’t solved in a day, months, even years—and if Alton thought the police should arrest the first person deemed suspicious enough for the crime, then his presence would be noticeably absent from the table.
“Funnily enough, Alton,” Liberty crosses her arms as she glowers at him from under her lashes. “I thought you might have more compassion for law enforcement taking their time and ensuring the right person is prosecuted. Isn’t the overpopulation of our prisons partly on account of rushed and biased decision making?”
Turning her attention towards Joey, her voice softens, “I won’t make the call to Officer Jones without you. Pinky promise.” Extending her right little finger to the swimmer, she hopes the display calms the girl further from her justified panic.
A fleeting, taut frown settled on Joey's face, her eyes dropping as the familiar burn of tears welled up once more. She inhaled deeply, the much needed breath filling her chest being a quiet plea for calmness amidst the intense banter. The table was growing more divisive by the second, and she could feel it pulling her under. Joey shook her head, not wanting to fall under the spell of dejection. Don’t cry—she reminded herself, raising her head to blink the wetness away. On any given day, she might’ve met Alton’s pointed criticism head-on, or at the very least, repeated her stance with her usual adamancy. Though, she didn't feel she had much fight in her now.
Liberty's voice tethered her—reeling her away from the impending sadness—and instinctively, she curled hers around it. The delicate gesture steadied her and she smiled, nodding at her words. “Okay. Tomorrow, let’s do it.”
Joey felt some sort of regained strength over the matter. Despite how much she resented not being taken seriously, she knew how she usually came off to people. It was no secret that she wasn’t the smartest nor the first to call for anything too serious. Especially with something this crucial, Joey wouldn't have been surprised if her suggestions were just dismissed entirely. But Levi and Liberty listened and for that, she was grateful.
Alt rolled his eyes. “It’s a turn of phrase, Levi. Or is your head too high up that you don’t have the oxygen needed for your brain to function?” He lowered his voice. “Look, I’m not dismissing anyone’s feelings on the matter–sorry Joey–I just think believing cops will help has been disproved with everything that has happened. Especially cops in Easthallow.” He ignored Liberty’s finger-pointing yet again. “I’m not saying let’s team up and be Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, but I would rely less on authority figures to do right by you.”
The history buff doesn’t bother concealing the roll of her eyes. It was an impossible task to convince anyone steadfast in their beliefs how the real world worked. She considers dumbing down the explanation for Alton, to express that a lack of faith in law enforcement was understandable in his circumstances, but writing them off for simply lacking the evidence to make a case was short-sighted and placing blame where it wasn’t.
Instead, she settles for a dismissive wave of her hand—an arrogant gesture reserved for people pulling at her patience—and sighs, “Rome wasn’t built in a day and cases aren’t closed in a year.”
Joey straightened up, turning towards Alton with a firm tenacity, "Think what you want, but we don't really have another choice here. If the clues Me and Liberty have to offer don't end up helping then whatever, at least we're trying." Her arms folded tightly across her chest. She didn't want to be mad at Alton and she couldn't, really. But it was hard to deny how frustrating his stance was. We're not hurting the case by doing this anyway.. What's the problem?
Funnily enough, Alton…It’s a turn of phrase, Levi…Think what you want—Stand up. Releasing a shaky sigh under her breath, and feeling suddenly flustered under the weight of how small the table seemed to become, Connie’s attention caught on the serving bowls that sat untouched at the end of the table. at least we're trying—They’re too distracted. Do something.
Propelled by the idea of the argument making another round between the engrossed counselors, Connie stood up from her seat, decidedly making the effort to douse the flames of the conversation before it turned into an uncontainable wildfire. But, not before leaving, did the boating instructor place a gentle hand on Joey’s shoulder and softly squeeze—refusing to have them all mistake her mediation as invalidation of her obvious distress.
“It’s okay, Joey.” she offered in a whisper, hoping that the swim instructor noted her gesture as more than just a comfort tactic, but as an agreement. Anything they found was better than no evidence at all, and nobody at the table Connie shared it with was in any sort of position to reduce their findings as miniscule.
Overwhelmed, she welcomed the feeling of her legs solidifying as she walked toward the bowls, the adrenaline coursing through her body beginning to slowly diminish. “Sorry about that, guys. Long day.” Ensuring that her attitude didn’t reflect just how right she was with a smile, Connie grabbed the serving spork and gestured to the individual bowls still stacked. “You know the drill—single-file line if you’re hungry.”
The hand that briefly rested on her shoulder was a subtle reminder that she was holding on to far too much tension. She turned her head slightly, offering Connie a brief nod before the girl drifted away from the counselor’s side and made her way to the hot plates at the far end of the table. Joey peered down the long stretch of wood. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she watched the line of kids eagerly awaiting their portions, all very giddy and carefree. One of them caught her eye, flashing a grin as they held up their plate piled high with spaghetti. "Jojo, hurry before it's all gone!" she called out. Joey returned a short laugh, though the wavering smile remained a tad bit distant. She decided to file in line behind a pair of friends she recognized from her swim session and hear what was going on in their lives—wanting to take any chance she could to distract herself.
It’s a turn of phrase, Levi. Pulling a face and ignoring the dig at his height, Levi instead let out an open laugh—short and completely humorless. “What? I can’t point out the fact you used the term ‘my man’ like you’re buddies while also completely dismissing the whole point of Officer Jones’ job? Yeah, okay.” His voice was laced with dry amusement, but there was an underlying edge.
He rolled his eyes back. “But I’m lacking the oxygen,” he muttered under his breath, careless if Alton caught the end of his comment. Unbothered. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.
If this riled up the kids, then fine. But someone was missing, and this camp was still running like it was just another summer. Why the fuck is this place still open?
The words were on the tip of his tongue, just about to spill out and add fuel to the disagreement—You piss me off—but before he could speak, a camper bumped into him, an elbow jabbing into his side. Reflexively, Levi tensed, his irritation flaring. “Watch it,” his voice tight with annoyance.
Realizing he was getting worked up over Alton’s fucking riddles and that the heat from Rowan’s massive costume still weighed on him like a furnace, he decided it was time to head back to the cabin, ditch the costume, and clear his head. Catch my breath.
“I’m gonna—” Levi didn’t even finish his sentence before Rowan walked through the dining hall doors, the sight of him catching him off guard. His frustration simmered, but he couldn’t just stay. He made the move to stand at the same time as Connie, wrapping the large costume around his arm, trying to relax. His tone was clipped but apologetic, even though the words came out short. “I’ll be back, don’t wait up,” he muttered, barely meeting Liberty's eyes as he made his way to the front of the hall.
Liberty watched Levi retreat away from the table for a second time that day. Disheartened, she has half a mind to fix Alton with another pointed stare, that’s your fault, but clamps her mouth shut for the sake of Connie and Joey. Truth or Dare was around the corner, anyway.
Following Connie’s lead, Liberty tosses an expectant look at the campers gathered around the table. One that said, serve your own food, not wanting Connie to shoulder the burden of serving thirty eight ungrateful campers and hopes the display of ladling the spaghetti onto her plate would suffice as a demonstration. She refused to parent the elite children—two weeks wasn’t enough to rewrite the previous three hundred and fifty one days at home, and Liberty saw little point in weak attempts of making an impact on them when they’d be returning to the same selfish environment in which they were raised. It was too little too late to be teaching the pre-teens empathy—or, to be self-sufficient.
A hand snatches the handle of her ladle just as she places it down, the movement jostling sauce onto the varnish. This camp needs to invest in some tablecloths. She scowls at the heavy-handedness and flicks her gaze to the offending camper, “it’s not going anywhere.” Her comment fell on deaf ears as they spoon three helpings, a sharp thwack onto the plate that twitches the corner of her eye.
She takes Levi’s plate in hand wordlessly, carefully constructing a significant amount of spaghetti as the bill of their liquor purchases comes to mind. Don’t make it easy for him, Liberty decides firmly—his day was the definition of rough and it wasn’t over just yet.
Connie had instinctively shifted slightly to the side for Liberty’s arrival, ensuring the history buff had enough space to comfortably fill a bowl while the rest of the hungry campers decidedly chose to ignore her appointed directions. Kids are kids—she spared them a fleeting look, and internally discredited the fact that the majority came from money—no matter how spoiled.
Thankful that her distraction had caused them all to settle and pick up their own conversations again, the boating instructor utilized the relative silence—or rather, the lack of an intense argument—to revisit the topic of conversation with someone she knew could remain levelheaded. Levi’s angry, Joey’s angry—I’m angry… Though, she was highly aware of one thing: turning on each other would get them nowhere.
She kept her tone quiet, just enough for Liberty to hear. “I know we can’t expect everybody in town to care about them as much as we do, but…” The counselor stopped abruptly, forced to swallow the rest of her sentence when a camper’s fork tumbled to the floor in a sharp clatter. Quickly, Connie bent down to retrieve the metal utensil—starting a new pile away from the clean ones—before sending them off with a replacement. “Dakota was weird. Dakota Holt.”
The fact that the strange man’s name had to follow her back to camp could curl Connie’s lip in annoyance, disdain even, but she controlled her emotions before they could cross her features. “Okay at first, I guess. But—after he got into his car, it was a different story.” She hadn’t thought to question his behavior before but, why didn’t he grab his keys? Internally scolding herself for being too caught up in trying to reprimand Juliette, a sigh followed. “We offered to call Officer Jones to keep an eye on his car just in case, but he didn’t seem interested.” This time, the curly-haired woman looked up toward her company. “Joked about how we’re known for missing girls.”
“I might just be—” Biased? Reeling over Lisa? Missing Paige? Connie forced the thoughts to subside, choosing to bite the bullet instead. “He seemed to have a lot to say about how rich white girls got ahead even though he had a daughter to get to. Could be nothing but an ass with nothing else interesting going on for himself, but I’d rather not rule him out entirely either.”
At Connie’s hushed tone, Liberty tilts her head in the green thumb’s direction—the conversation away from prying campers hastily reaching for their servings—and chews thoughtfully on her bottom lip. Holt? A clear disadvantage lay in the fact she didn’t hail from Easthallow like her fellow counsellors, but from the suspicious tones of both Connie and Joey, it seemed Dakota and Hal were a mystery even to them.
Joked about how we’re known for missing girls. Liberty kept her gaze downwards, busying herself with the act of loading Levi’s bowl—only to reluctantly switch into assisting the campers, a task she previously loathed to do—for the purpose of continuing their conversation without raising any curious ears. At that comment, she glanced up. Part of her longed to jump to a conclusion—maybe the residents of Easthallow are resigned to their newly unfortunate pattern. But Liberty was standing with a grieving counsellor, a resident, and knew that couldn’t be the answer.
Liberty was unable to help the quiet surprise by the revelation coming from Connie, no less, a girl she was cordial with at best but hadn’t the chance to deepen their companionship beyond that of co-workers. “No one should be ruled out.” Not even us. A notion she bites back from sharing in the middle of a dinner when she, Joey, and Levi had been through enough for a single day.
“A daughter…?” There were barely enough children in the population of Easthallow to fill up the school. Children from neighbouring towns bussed in daily to attend and increase funding, and if the name Holt rang no bells for people that lived in the town all their lives—
“A father wouldn’t say that about missing girls.” Liberty states, a whisper to her voice.
Alt stood, bored and done with this. He moved towards the food and ladled some spaghetti onto a plate before grabbing utensils and sitting back down again. They all decided to turn against him, thinking he didn’t want the police involved because he was guilty of something. That was not the case. Well, it wasn’t the entire case. Alt just didn’t trust the cops. He’d been here less than twenty-four hours and found one clue, and he was around when Liv found the other. They hadn’t done a good sweep but acted as if they knew everything. What if they were in on it?
If they want to align themselves with corrupt pigs, then go ahead. I’m having nothing to do with it, he thought while chasing noodles around his plate. Alt hadn’t eaten anything all day, and his stomach was tied in an angry knot. He didn’t know if he wanted to aggravate it by continuing not to eat or aggravate it by eating. Either seemed right.
Nodding, Connie’s gaze drifted upward at movement in her peripheral vision, only to find a silent—but thoroughly—apathetic nurse serving himself a bowl of pasta and quietly returning to his seat. The two weren’t exactly close, only just brushing on cordiality at the start of this new session, but the green thumb hadn’t been oblivious to how the table flipped on him in response to his two cents.
He had strong opinions—everyone was entitled to one—but at some point in her life, Connie could, and still often sympathized, with losing the same faith in law enforcement that he had, flaring up again at the sight of aged missing posters in town, and yet another unfortunate repeat that they had only all learned happened days ago to a cherished friend.
A huff—If they couldn’t even save Paige… Once Connie had begun to feel the familiar sting of her eyes dampening again, she inhaled strongly, welcoming a reset in remembrance of where she was and who was beside her. We’ll find her. Or, with any luck, all of them.
“Oh—” struck by one last thought, the boating instructor waited until the last camper was served and seated before she addressed Liberty again. “The library. That’s where Dakota said he was going before we all left. To meet a friend or something.”
Between the time crunch they had been under while Kayden worked to get his car unlocked and the unspoken knowledge of an early curfew for businesses, any local to Easthallow would have given up their errand as long as a wrench inconvenienced it. It was common knowledge: the wrench was their errand now.
In an attempt to make sure that everyone was accounted for before dismissing herself, Connie caught sight of the former musician making his slow return to table five, an unreadable expression on display. Hope he’s feeling better, at least. With a gentle nudge against Liberty’s arm, the woman nodded upward toward Levi, an unspoken signal to end the conversation. “I’m gonna sit. Good luck with Officer Jones tomorrow.” She offered a small smile before leaving with a bowl in hand.
“Mm.” Liberty eyes were trained on an empty spot of the table, taking in the information Connie willingly divulged. Officer Jones and her met only once—that day—as each counsellor was pulled into the department for a round of questioning. It was impossible to determine what his reaction might be to talks of—Hal. Dakota. Library. A daughter. A friend. The receipt—a small touch at her arm pulls Liberty from her focus, settling on the person that embodied restless energy, but managed to be a surprising calm in the history buff’s circling storm of resentment.
She understands Connie’s message loud and clear—Levi wasn’t in any suitable mental state to dissolve further into the tenuous discussion, not when a night of drinking and pointing fingers was right around the corner—nodding, grateful he still had a friend from Lisa’s tight knit circle looking out for him, Liberty willing steps towards their seats. “Thanks for sharing, Connie.”
Motioning to Levi with a wave of her hand and sincere smile to rejoin her—them—Liberty settles across from Joey once more and engages with the swimmer, “find what you were looking for at the store?”
Making his way back towards his assigned table, Levi felt a little bit better after his discussion with Rowan—relieved, at the very least, that he had one less costume to worry about. The flurry of red fabric beside Liberty caught his eye, his seat thankfully saved, and he heaved out a quiet sigh as he slid into it.
But as he settled in, his movement halted at the sight of an already plated meal waiting for him.
Raising a brow, he shot the blonde a knowing look, his gaze silently reading thanks in return. No need for words—disrupting the conversation happening before him felt disrespectful. Instead, he reached for his fork, letting the familiar rhythm of dining hall chatter wash over him.
Dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin, Joey's eyes brightened. ”Yes! Actually, I’ll be Dorothy tonight.” She flashed a smile, shrugging lazily. “I’m never usually this last minute, but Fancy That! never fails.” She tilted her head, eyes moving between Levi and Liberty, “And you guys? Wait—don’t tell me..” Pondering for a moment on whether the two were coupling up for their costumes this year. Normally she had some good suggestions to make, but with how draining the day was she felt awfully blank.
Liberty wasn’t sure that Joey would be strutting in a pair of ruby slippers across the yellow brick road to success and happiness while at Camp Evergreen, but the childlike wonder of Dorothy Gale seemed all too fitting for the young basket case. Click your heels and protect yourself from evil, Joey—or whatever Hal Philips and Dakota Holt were.
“Okay just tell me—Wait! I got it. Pulp Fiction. No, Natural. Born. Killers. Final answer.”—and if she was wrong, there would now be two fabulous future options at their disposal.
About to raise a fork to his mouth, Levi openly laughed at Joey’s guess, the sound coming freely before he dropped his fork with a soft clatter. His interest piqued, he leaned in, forearms resting against the table as he decided to get in on the fun, hoping to keep the good mood rolling.
“Fuck, how did that quote go again?” he mused, eyes narrowing in thought as his posture relaxed, tension slipping from his shoulders. “Something like… you look in the forest and you see species killing other species—” He paused, letting the moment stretch for dramatic effect, his gaze drifting across the table. He even lingered on Alton for a beat before settling back on Liberty and Joey. “—our species killing all species, including the forest, and we just call it industry, not murder.”
With a tap on the table—not quite a smack, but firm enough to showcase his passion—he grinned. “Solid quote. Plus, Pulp Fiction would’ve been fun. Didn’t know you were a little movie buff, Jo. Good taste.”
He shot her a knowing look, though He didn’t voice it, but Joey’s assumption about the costume made him think back to Nicolas at Willamina—and the way he had assumed they were a couple. Was there something I was missing? Have I been that obvious?
"They had to teach me something before I got kicked out!" Joey laughed, grinning wide, clearly pleased her movie knowledge was coming in handy to impress her friends.
“Close,” Liberty speaks after swallowing her first mouthful of spaghetti—far better than what Paige typically served—and spins her fork to gather the noodles. Forcing the image of both movies to take over the confused satisfaction of their assumed couple costume again, Liberty glances at Levi briefly before continuing, “Natural Born Killers? Mack has the hair for it, not me—”
“Mack!”
Liberty pauses mid-chewing. Did I hear that correctly? Convinced the campers might only be jesting, it wasn’t until a hushed silence fell across the room that the history buff drifted her gaze to the Hall’s entrance. Bleached blonde hair is all Liberty needed to glimpse to accept this was real. Her hand falls to Levi’s wrist as she rises from the chair, squeezing for a moment, with a smile of disbelief being cast around towards her tablemates.
Fuck, I think I need a cigarette. Taking a slow drink from his cup of water to still the familiar itch, Levi nearly froze as a familiar name was shouted across the dining hall. The silence that followed didn’t go unnoticed, but he convinced himself he had misheard.
Shaking off the thought, he turned his attention back to his plate, twirling the pasta around his fork with forced nonchalance—only for a hand to wrap around his wrist, halting him mid motion. He barely had time to glance at Liberty before she was already rising from her seat, her eyes locked on something—or someone—at the front of the room. Levi followed her gaze, catching the sight of familiar chopped hair. Well, that was easy.
“Mack? She’s back?” He redirected the question towards the others at the table—toying with the idea of letting Liberty have her moment alone, while also curious to know how the resident stoner was doing.
By the way the two danced around the subject, Joey was pretty sure of one thing: it was a couples costume. A playful smile tugged at her lips as she shook her head. "Okay, true, Mack totally does, but—"
Joey paused, watching Liberty head off, then hesitated, brow furrowing. She thought she’d heard a camper calling out from a distance but couldn’t quite place it. She turned to Levi, who pulled her back into the moment with the claim that Mack—Mack fucking Griffin—was in their vicinity.
"MACK?" Joey’s voice shot out in surprise, her eyes darting back to find Liberty. Then, finally, the embrace confirmed everything. “Oh my god!!”
Without missing a beat, Joey excused herself, her bag nearly slipping off the back of her chair as she darted toward the infamous blonde shag.
“What…?” Connie had only half-listened to the conversation taking place at the table, and spared the occasional glance away from her plate to acknowledge the different movies being referenced between her friends. For the most part, she was consumed in trying to satiate the empty feeling in her stomach that only now became unpleasant as the various Italian scents filled her senses. But, a name she hadn’t heard in well over a year caused the forkful of spaghetti to pause in mid-air.
Can’t be her—Immediately betrayed by her memory of the choppy blonde head of hair that used to occupy Paige’s other side, the hand that held the fork naturally came down, wrist resting on the edge of the table. She was kicked out…
She didn’t want to, but her conscious wouldn’t let her continue eating until she confirmed otherwise. Slowly, Connie turned to face the direction Liberty had run off to, and the hunger died with the last of her will to pretend that she could still manage the rest of the night.
Jonathan must’ve been desperate to rehire someone who—willing the rest of the thought away, and unable to spare patience that had been stretched thin by today’s events, the green thumb dropped the utensil, a harsh clatter emanating when it came in contact with her plate.
Tapping his knuckles against the edge of the table, Levi openly stared as the numbers at the front of the room slowly grew. Joey trailed behind Liberty, other counselors reacting in their own ways to Mack’s sudden reappearance. Sly, he thought, lips twitching slightly. What the fuck did she have to do to get back?
And then—shit.
Leaning back, he subtly searched the room for another familiar head of blonde hair, eyes catching on Lou a few tables down. He didn’t even need to see his face to know exactly what he was thinking. His stomach gave a dull twist, yeah..Sorry, man. I had no clue.
The former band geek winced inwardly, knowing it had taken him pointing out that Mack got kicked out, that Renee was somehow behind it, and that Lou might as well step in to fill the free spot—because why the fuck not?
Lazily, he lifted an arm, gesturing vaguely in Mack’s direction, only to hear the sharp clatter of a fork hitting a plate a little too hard. “Easy target for truth or dare if you ask me,” he muttered, aiming for indifference as his attention flickered towards Connie, curiosity tugging at his expression. She good? “You alright?”
You alright? No—
The boating instructor barely registered the sound of Levi’s question at first, her mind still stuck on the image of Mack standing there like she was never gone—like she hadn’t left a mess in her wake. It was almost laughable. Just when Connie thought Mack had taken the past with her, she somehow found a way to weasel back into the picture and stir up old feelings.
But the weight of her friend’s gaze was hard to miss, and the woman knew that he saw the split-second crack in her usual composure. “Yeah,” she answered Levi finally, voice even yet her tight-lipped smile contradicted her attempt. Her fingers itched to pick the fork back up, if only to give herself something to do, but the hunger vanished. Instead, she reached for her glass of water, letting the condensation dampen her palm before taking a sip. “Neverrrrr better…”
Elbow deep in a noodle and thought, Alt jerked his head up when someone exclaimed, “Mack!” And people were surprised that he was back. “Good. Someone else can be the pariah for a change,” he grumbled softly under his breath.
Not wanting to stare too long, Levi averted his gaze at the sight of that familiar tight-lipped smile—one he was all too aware of wearing himself when uncomfortable. Best to leave it alone, she said she’s good.
Connie dragging her word caught his ear, along with the muffled end of Alton’s comment, but Levi only sucked his teeth in response. The whole room felt heavier, like the air had thickened the moment Mack reappeared. And fuck, if that didn’t remind him of his own past, the wilder parts of himself he’d shoved aside.
Itching for a smoke now, he decided to excuse himself, slipping out without much fanfare. His hand automatically found his pocket, fingers curling around the familiar weight of his lighter and pack of cigs. One wouldn’t hurt.
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