Page 3 of Faun Over Me

Sure, she had seen inhumans. She wasn’t a flower in the attic or anything weird like that. It was just that people like her didn’t associate with inhumans like them … until now.

“I want to be here,” she said. “I want this job, I want to teach these kids, but I—”

“There’s those buts again,” Director Murray smiled. “The campers have only been here for two weeks, and you did great during onboarding with the counselors and staff. Take it each day at a time, pick a different kid in each class, and give them some special attention. Learn how the unique qualities they each bring can help them excel in music, and you’ll have done your job.”

Avery exhaled, blowing a stream of air at a curling wisp of her hair. “Okay.”

“And maybe sit with the other counselors at dinner?” Director Murray added. Avery straightened, a tendon in her neck pinching. “It hasn’t gone unnoticed …”

“They don’t want to sit with me.”

“Says who?”

“I—no one.” She dropped back in her chair, arms crossed. “But—”

“No more buts, Avery, Jesus.” Avery flinched, and Director Murray dropped her head back, groaning. “Ugh, sorry. Look.” she rose and stepped around the desk, cuffing Avery on the shoulder with a loose fist. “I know this is a lot, and I respect how you addressed this in your interview, but don’t give up after two weeks. A lot of these kids and counselors have grown up in this camp. I marched at OSU with Nurse Almaden, and your roommate has been a counselor here for as long as I can remember. We’ve got you at a disadvantage, but it’s not one you can’t overcome. You’re here, and you’re coming to me when you need to talk it through. Keep doing that, and next summer this’ll be as common as a chord progression in C.”

Avery huffed. “You’re saying that like you know I’m coming back next year.”

“You haven’t run screaming for the hills yet.” Director Murray smiled. “That’s a good sign.”

“There’s still twelve weeks to go,” Avery replied as she stood, adjusting her skirt. “Plenty of time.”

“There’s that can-do attitude I hired you for.” She sighed and straightened the papers on her desk. “I could use a little of that, I think.”

“Still no takers?”

Director Murray shook her head, lower lip thrust in a pout. “Not yet. My mom is gonna talk to a few of her associates in DC. Hopefully, someone will be interested in investing, but it feels like cheating.”

“How so?”

A bell rang before she could answer, the electric tone buzzing through the open window and calling the camp to breakfast. Director Murray checked her watch and tipped her head at the door, gesturing for Avery to walk with her.

“I can’t even get investors to call me back, much less answer the phone. Growing Elkwater to welcome more students feels like something I should be able to do without relying on my parents’ connections,” she said.

“It’ll happen.”

Director Murray snorted quietly and bounced her shoulder against Avery’s. “Where’s that confidence when it applies to your job performance?” Avery opened her mouth to argue, holding her tongue when Director Murray sighed and shoved her hands in her pockets. “Let’s talk about this later; if you don’t mind channeling some of that Payne knowledge, I’d like to pick your brain on how I can better approach sponsors.”

“Sure thing.” She sent her boss a weak smile.

Director Murray jogged up the stairs to the dining hall, pausing at the door when she realized Avery had not joined her. “Not hungry?” she asked, offering an easy out.

“I had cereal in my bunk,” she lied.

“Right.” Director Murray nodded and hit her with a direct stare. “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

“See you at dinner.”

Not a request, but then again, Avery couldn’t really blame her. She was the Assistant Director. It was her job to be present and available for the campers and counselors, and she couldn’t do that by hiding in her bunk and eating alone.

“At the counselor’s table,” she added. Avery bit her lips and nodded, sagging with relief when Director Murray slipped inside the dining hall.

Embarrassed and not yet ready to be immersed in the bustle of a band camp in full swing, she took a narrow trail around the side of the dining hall, cutting onto a well-used path through the woods. Twigs, leaves, and fallen branches from the previous night’s storm cluttered the trail. Her conversation with Director Murray rambled over and over in her head as she kicked the mess aside, clearing the path for others. It helped to hear she was coming into this at a disadvantage, and yet, it didn’t. Avery was raised to do the good thing, to love thy neighbor, and all that, but nowhere in the doctrine of her congregation had they allowed space for those who weren’t her fellow man.

But being a good neighbor was about loving those around you, regardless of creed or color.

Right?

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