Page 85 of Lady and the Camp
Maggie blinked rapidly. “It’s nottrue. Those people sound like wackos. They’re talking about some girl boss influencer stealing bitcoin. You haveyarn in your hair.”
I’d attempted a crochet headband of sorts. B plus for effort? C minus for execution. Failing grade for any fashion sense.
“The stealing part isn’t true, right, Miss Hudson?” Vera flashed at look at me, mouthingI’m sorry. She meant involving Maggie, but it was on me that Maggie didn’t know those details.
The silence became too much. “You datedKristoff Krom?” There was no mistaking Maggie’s reaction. She did not like this information. “You never—” She huffed and returned to the screen. “Well, the rest of this is total nonsense. How do you steal bitcoin? Wait—I don’t want to know. None of this sounds like you, Hudson.” She handed the phone to Vera. “People lie on the internet all the time. You can’t always believe what you read.”
True. But I’d hurt Maggie by keeping my real life a secret. What was new? It seemed a common theme. Maybe I could build a career out of it.
Maggie shook her head and directed herself toward the volleyball players.
“Maggie, wait—”
She didn’t turn back.
“Sorry,” Vera said to me.
“You did nothing wrong. Can I see that again?” I gestured to her phone.
As I read the forum post, she recapped. “This guy is saying he knows Kristoff and there’s an account he doesn’t have access to. That you have access to it. And…”
I landed on the comment she referred to. This person wanted to find me. Somebody who believed I’d stolen something from Kristoff was intent onenacting justice. I shuddered. Even though these posts were pure fiction, if this person really believed I had something belonging to Kristoff, if they really knew Kristoff personally, which I doubted, then this was freaking scary.
The comment existed on a subforum with few replies or upvotes on a massive website. “How did you even find this?”
“We want to look out for you, Miss Hudson. We’ve been thinking of ways to support you.”
If my heart was butter, it had transformed into an oily, melted mess. “That’s incredibly sweet, but I’m afraid I overshared the other night. It’s not your responsibility to take care of me. I really appreciate it, but please don’t go looking for posts like this.”
I handed the phone back. Vera’s shoulders sank. “Sorry. We were trying to help.”
My oily heart oozed again. “Don’t feel bad or apologize. I’m the one who shared too much of my personal life. Maggie would never have stood for that.” I pressed my lips together. “You didn’t hear me say that. Maggie is incredible. She’s just tall and comes off a little intimidating with all her rules.”
Vera smiled now. “No worries.”
She trotted off to the rain shelter with the craft stations even though I swore she was up for volleyball next.
Later at dinner, the campers at my table buzzed with conversation until a lull hit. I was about to bust out an icebreaker question when Bianca slid beside me on the lunch table bench.
She made eye contact with a few girls before turning to me. “We’ve identified a threat.”
I waited for the punchline. Her face was serious. Oh—oh no. “Radio Lucas.” I twisted and scanned the Mess. He wasn’t here. “What did you see? Is it—”
“Not here at camp—online.” Bianca lowered her voice. “Vera told me she showed you that post.” She held up a hand. “Don’t get mad at her. She did the right thing. We checked out this guy’s digital footprint. We think he’s legit.”
My mind swirled with responses, from reprimands to denials. “What do you mean, legit? And I’m not mad, but you shouldn’t be involving yourself with this. Or be on your phones when you’re supposed to be doing…organic stuff.”
A girl across from me at the table giggled, but it was short lived. “Miss Hudson, we really are worried. This isn’t a joke or made up.”
“Here’s the thing,” Bianca said, revealing what was one hundred percent a contraband item: her cell phone. She knew the rule better than anybody: there were no phones allowed at the Mess or outside the bunkhouse.
But what she said next hit hard.
“They know where you are.”
This was not good. Very not good.
We split from the Mess for an emergency bunkhouse huddle. I let Bianca lead the way. I needed to hear them out to determine if this threat was legitimately legit or an invented time-waster the girls risked getting in trouble for. They were allowed phones to use sparingly, and I hated to bethat counselor, but they were violating the very rules Camp Junebug held so strong.
