New Year Island (29 page)

She tried to jam the blue flag into the base, but the end wobbled, missing the hole. She glanced toward Mason, who was sitting up now.

Swallowing, she tried again. The end of the flagpole skated around the edges of the hole, not going in. She concentrated, staring at the pole and steadying her hands. In her peripheral vision, Mason was walking toward her now.

Camilla took a deep breath and slid the end of the flagpole along the surface of the base. It dropped into the hole, and she felt a wash of relief. Standing up quickly, she faced Mason.

She had just seen him pepper-spray three people. He was like one of the problem kids that Euclid House sometimes sent her way: he just did whatever he wanted, with no fear of consequences. What if he was mad at her?

Unsmiling, he stopped six feet away. She could see no expression on his face at all. His glasses were dusty, so she couldn’t even really see his eyes. Was he angry? Mason had lousy posture and a habitual stoop, probably because he spent all his time in front of a computer, but that made him look smaller than he really was. For the first time, she realized that he was a lot bigger than she was. He could probably hurt her pretty easily.

For a long, awkward moment, neither of them said anything. Then he lowered his head and turned away, walking over to the water’s edge.

“Mason?”

He didn’t answer, didn’t look at her.

Camilla’s throat was suddenly tight. Mason wasn’t angry; he was upset. She hadn’t realized how much she had come to enjoy her irreverent buddy’s company. What had she been thinking? Now she had destroyed their developing friendship.

Then she pictured Lauren, gagging and choking in the sand, Juan and JT scrubbing at their faces. Eyes narrowing, Camilla marched forward and yanked the bear spray out of his belt. Stepping back, she whipped her arm sideways and threw the black cylinder out into the crashing whitewater.

“I don’t care about Julian’s stupid rules,” she said. “Here’s mine, Mason: you don’t get points for hurting people.”

Behind his glasses, he blinked.

She stared up into his face, defiant.

Then he grinned. Wincing, he bent down to rub his knees. “No points for hurting people, huh?” The elbows and knees of his suit were torn. Blood showed through the rips and welled from the abrasions on his palms.

Camilla flushed; her tackle had done all that. She was such a hypocrite.

Slowly, painfully, he dropped to sit on the ground. “I’m not giving you any more advice. It seems I’ve created a monster.”

“Oh god, Mason, your hands! I’m sorry, but you—”

Laughing, he waved her away, rubbing at his injuries. “Congratulations. I guess you and our team captain are two of a kind.”

Sensing someone at the top of the ramp, she looked up to see Veronica staring at her. She had been standing there all along. Her pale, silvery eyes bored into Camilla, icy with judgment. Camilla couldn’t believe she had actually mistaken this woman for a soccer mom. But shame washed over her, making her face hot.

She couldn’t meet Veronica’s gaze.

S
plashing sounds. Coughing and gagging next to her. Her own choking noises, too. She couldn’t breathe. A strong arm around her shoulder, holding her steady. All she could see was red. Then a blurry glimpse of JT on his knees, cupped hands scooping seawater onto his face. Oh Christ, she couldn’t take a breath. Steel bands cinched around her chest, crushing. And the pain, like frostbite thawing all over her face.

Lauren threw up.

She sucked in a gasping breath, hearing it wheeze into her lungs. She heaved again, tasting acid and the peanut sauce from the last MRE. Her legs buckled. Juan supported her, splashing more water into her eyes with his free hand, scrubbing her face like a little kid’s.

Shoving him angrily aside, she fell to her knees in the surf.

She threw herself facedown into the water and held her eyes open with shaking fingers. The salt water was cold, soothing. She could hear Juan nearby, his voice a hoarse croak, talking to JT:

“Stay with me, man. We need to focus.”

“I swear I’m going to kill that little shit,” JT rasped. “I can’t see.”

Lauren rolled onto her back, hyperventilating, chest spasming. The sky was a blur above her. Her eyes stung, throbbed. Her face was on fire. She wiped her nose, and her wrist came away coated with snot. Then her wrist started burning, too.

She lay there, panting, until she got her breathing under control.

“Score’s two-two,” she said, staring up at the sky. “We’re going to win this thing, and I don’t give a fuck what we have to do to them to do it.”

• • •

Cracking her knuckles, Lauren watched Camilla jog away after handing the red team’s flag back to Juan. Little Miss Politician thought her apology was worth something? Lauren had just glared at her. That must be how it worked in the corporate world: lie, cheat, and steal; then send the doe-eyed ones to say “sorry.” Real cute. Psycho Barbie was probably running toward them along the beach already, coming to steal their flag again.

JT ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. They were bloodshot almost solid red. Lauren was pretty sure hers looked the same.

“All right,
Captain,
” she said to Juan. “
The plan.
You’ve got one, right? Astonish us with your brilliance.” Her eyes narrowed. “But you and JT both scored already. This time,
I
plant the blue flag.”

Juan nodded. Then he pulled the red flag out of its base and walked to the water’s edge. The ropes they had used yesterday to go after the water jugs still trailed across the waves toward the distant boulders. Grabbing a rope with one hand, he braced himself. Then he plunged into the whitewater, taking the flag with him.

A minute later, he stood in front of JT and Lauren again, dripping onto the rocks. He was no longer holding their flag. Tilting his head, he cleared water out of his ear with a twist of his finger. Then he pointed toward the blue base.

“Now we
all
go.”

• • •

Mason was alone, standing next to the blue flag. Grinning.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Lauren said. “We should try not to hurt you too badly
why,
again?”

He reached behind him. “I wonder if anyone’s ever been bear-sprayed twice in one day before? Once is probably enough for most people.”

She flinched, then stepped forward, angry with herself. “Do it and I kill you.”

“Take the flag. Just please don’t hurt me.”

“Chickenshit.” She grabbed the flagpole, but before she could yank it out of the base, Mason’s other hand darted forward, tapping her wrist.

“Tag.”

He scooted back fast, looking ready to yank the bear spray out from behind him.

Oh Christ, he had just taken five points from her.”You little asshole.” Lauren’s fists clenched. “You’re dead.”

Juan laid a hand on her shoulder. “Back up, Mason,” he said. “Now.” His voice was mild, but Mason retreated a few steps.

Juan waved Natalie forward. “Natalie, grab the flag.”

Lauren stared at him. Why was he giving the flag to the most useless member of their team? But he only pointed up the ramp.

She met Mason’s eyes. “Later for you.” Then she followed JT’s broad shoulders up the slope.

Sprinting ahead of the others, Lauren looked back, smirking at how slow Natalie was. Running flat out, she hurdled the barricade, and her foot came down on a bird nest. She winced at the crunch of eggs and fragile bones beneath her shoe, but she didn’t stop. Mason had tagged her out… but once she touched her own base, she would be back in play.

“W
here’s their flag? Camilla asked.

“They hid it.” Jordan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh my god, Julian never said we couldn’t.”

Veronica snorted. “What kind of imbecile dreamed up these rules?”

They stood staring down at the empty plastic cone that was the red base. A scrambling noise came from behind, and Lauren shot down the slope beside them.

“Back up, everybody,” Camilla said. “Don’t let her tag you.”

But Lauren ran to the red base. When she knelt and slapped it with her hand, Camilla understood that Mason had tagged Lauren again. She looked so angry—didn’t Mason understand he was going to get himself killed here?

Juan skated down the slope and stopped next to Lauren, his eyes narrowing when he spotted Jordan. JT slid to a halt beside the two of them.

Juan pointed at Camilla and her teammates. “Tag them,” he said. Then, to her surprise, he plunged into the water.

Jordan pointed up the slope the red team had descended. “That means Natalie’s got our flag up there,” she said. “Get her.”

Camilla charged up the slope, spotting Natalie a short distance away, out of breath, the blue flag drooping in her arms. She looked up, an expression of resignation on her face, and then her gaze flicked past Camilla’s shoulder.

Camilla tried to dodge, but too late. A hand caught the back of her shirt, jerking her backward, and a thick arm wrapped around her upper arms and chest.

JT laughed. “Tag.” But he didn’t let go. Instead he hoisted her off her feet, and she found herself being carried under his arm like a misbehaving child.

“Put me down.” She tried to wriggle free.

“Nah,” he said. “Can’t trust any of you to play fair.” The muscles of his arm tightened like a python coiling around a deer.

“Get your hands off her
right now
,” Veronica said from nearby.

Camilla’s face flushed. This was embarrassing enough, being carried like a doll. Having Veronica rescue her would be even more humiliating. She struggled but couldn’t move.

“I mean it.” Veronica’s tone turned jagged. “Let her go.”

JT jerked forward, jouncing Camilla against his arm. “Gotcha. Double play.” Veronica’s face was suddenly inches from Camilla’s, and JT’s other arm was wrapped around Veronica’s shoulders, pulling her against his chest.

“Take it in, Natalie!” he yelled. “Lauren, cover her. I got these two.”

Veronica had been trying to help her, and now JT had them both. “Sorry,” Camilla said to her.

Blazing with icy blue fury, Veronica’s pale eyes met Camilla’s for a second; then she looked down. She raised a knee high between them and stomped hard, raking the side of her shoe along JT’s shin, like a skateboarder grinding a rail. Her foot smashed into the top of his arch with crushing force, and he let go of both women. Camilla fell to her hands and knees and drew in a gasping breath.

Veronica spun on JT and raised a finger, leveling it at his face. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on one of us again. Not ever.”

Veins stood out on the side of JT’s shaved head. He turned and walked away, limping slightly. Veronica stalked after him, continuing to berate him in a low, angry voice.

Natalie stood fifteen feet away, eyes wide, mouth open. She hadn’t moved. Lauren materialized at her side and grabbed the other end of the blue flagpole. “If you’re just going to stand there like an idiot,” she said, “give that to me.”

Natalie shook her head, refusing to let go.

Watching the two red-team women struggle over the flag, Camilla shook her head in disbelief. Then she thought of what she herself had done to Mason earlier.

It was all of them, really. Julian had turned them into animals.

Tinkling laughter trailed past her ear as Jordan ran forward, clapping a hand on Natalie’s shoulder as she went by: a tag. Natalie’s face crumpled, and she released the flag, sending Lauren stumbling back with it. Falling to her knees, Lauren immediately threw the blue flag away before Jordan could tag her, too.

But Jordan didn’t stop. She scooped up the flag and continued down onto the beach, where the red base was.

“Where are you going?” Camilla shouted after her.

Jordan should have taken the blue flag to safety, not closer to danger. Mason was stuck back at their base, unable to run, after Camilla’s own tackle had injured his knees. And JT had tagged both her and Veronica out—by the time they made it to their base and back, it would all be over. This was all down to their team captain now.

“Jordan, get it out of here!” Camilla yelled.

Shaking her head, Jordan tossed the blue flag onto the sand next to the red base. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, she took a few barefoot steps back toward the water and settled into a ready stance, facing Lauren. The flag lay between them.

“You dropped something,” she called to Lauren.

She was baiting Lauren, wanting her to pick it up so she could tag her. But from the expression on Lauren’s face, Camilla could see what a bad idea this was. She ran forward.

Lauren’s mouth pulled into a snarl. She took a few steps to the side and crouched, reaching down by her feet. Then she straightened, holding a four-foot length of steel pipe with a jagged chunk of concrete at the end. It looked like a medieval mace.

Jordan’s eyes widened.

“No worries—I found it,” Lauren called back. “But thanks.”

“Stop it right now!” Camilla shouted at them.

Jordan glanced at her. “Stay out of this, sister.”

“Listen to your captain,” Lauren said, moving toward the flag, steel pipe held ready. “She’s got the right idea.”

Camilla got in between them and stepped toward Lauren, hands raised. “Can’t you see what’s going to happen here?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something black and red rising out of the water behind Jordan.

Camilla screamed.

Jordan whipped around, too late. An arc of red knocked her legs out from under her with a wet slap, and she crashed to the ground, flat on her back. A black figure whipped the soaked red flag upright and swung a leg up onto the rock behind her. Then a dripping Juan pushed himself upright and swept past Jordan, thrusting the base of the flagpole into her stomach as he went by—a quick, vicious jab, like a downhill racer planting a ski pole. She doubled over onto her side, arms wrapped around her midsection, and pulled her knees to her chest.

Camilla ran to her, passing Juan as he bent to grab the blue flag. She dropped to her knees by Jordan’s side. “Oh god, are you okay?”