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To say I was on edge was an understatement.

Ever since Carter's threat yesterday morning, I've been sure to keep eyes on the back of my head. I always check my bed and possessions carefully, as if something will explode on me if I make the wrong move. Poppy keeps her eyes narrowed and suspecting of his every move in fear she'll be his next target. Unfortunately for me, I have a feeling I have the red bullseye right on my forehead.

Mrs. Brady hasn't scolded me for being distracted ever since that one morning, and I was determined to keep it that way. The last thing I needed was a phone call home to my parents saying I didn't have my head in the game. They would probably drive up to camp just to yell at me themselves, or worse- take me back home.

After practice this morning, when I was packing up my piano books, Mrs. Brady asked me, "Have you applied to Juilliard yet, Amelia?"

The subject immediately made me tense, like cold water was just splashed all over my body.

"No," I told her, my tone tight. "They aren't accepting applications until the beginning of my senior year."

She nods, oblivious to my discomfort of the subject. "Very well, only a few weeks then."

I nod stiffly and mumble a lame goodbye before exiting the auditorium as quickly as I could. I let out a big breath when I was finally outside, thankful that my escape had been swift, and try to clear my mind on the walk back to the cabin. On my way back, I noticed that most of the campers were awake, something that was a little unusual at this hour.

As I walk back toward the cabin, a group of girls pass me and snicker as they do so. Although I'm confused, I just let it go, deciding that they weren't talking about me. Then a group of boys pass me, and Mark smirks once he sees me.

"Nice bras, Mina," He says mockingly, and the rest of the boys burst out in laughter.

My brow creases as I look down and check if my bra was showing, but it was concealed by my long sleeve. When I looked up, though, I saw it. Waving in the wind on top of the flagpole, all of my bras were tied together and on display for the entire camp.

I recognized them as mine immediately. My blue and grey one, my lace white one, and, most embarrassingly, my bright pink push up bra that I only bought in case there was ever a moment I needed such a thing. My cheeks flushed in embarrassment for only a second before it was replaced with anger when I realized that this was Carter's doing.

The devil himself stood underneath the flagpole smirking victoriously, high fiving his friends as they appreciated his work. I wanted to smack all of them, but most importantly, Carter. He must've told everyone those bras belonged to me, or else Mark would've never known they were mine.

Once again, I found myself in a familiar anger-fueled march straight up to Carter. When I stopped in front of him, his laughter had ceased a bit, but he still wore his stupidly cocky smirk on his lips. James and Justin immediately backed away this time when they saw me, as they knew this wouldn't be pretty.

"You stole my bras?" I hiss, eyes ablaze.

Infuriatingly, he just winked. "I told you I could play dirty, princess."

I open my mouth to let out a string of words that no one should have to hear, but instead another voice speaks, his tone full of authority and anger. "What is the meaning of this?"

I turn around and see Marcus standing behind us, red in the face, angrier than I've ever seen him before. His hands are curled into tight fists by his side, and his expression is murderous. I shrink away when I see the usually happy-go-lucky Camp Director shaking in rage.

"Miller, Stevens, my office. Now." Marcus all but growls, his voice deadly serious.

Even though I'm merely the victim, I put my head down and don't protest, but instead walk towards his office. The laughter around us had come to a halt when they saw Marcus fuming. Even Carter was at a lack of inappropriate remarks back to Marcus, and remained silent as he followed me.

When we entered his office, Marcus stood behind his desk and motioned for us to sit in the two chairs in front of him. The door shut loudly behind us, and then a horrible silence filled the office room. It was the kind of silence right before things were about to blow up.

"Miller, you were told coming into this summer camp that we would not tolerate your reckless behavior," Marcus starts immediately, putting the blame on Carter without questioning the situation. "The court order said that you must abide to all our rules and refrain from making any trouble if you want to stay. This was your last chance before you had to go to the Juvenile Detention Center. But now that I've seen that you clearly can't do such a thing, I have no choice but to call the judge."

"But Marcus-" Carter began protesting, his eyes wide and voice panicked.

"There are no 'but's," Marcus interjected fiercely, shaking his head with a sense of finality. "You had one last chance, and you screwed it up. Now you are going to deal with the consequences."

All of this information was swimming in my head, but all I heard was the fact that Carter had screwed up his last chance, and he was about to be shipped from camp to Juvie.

I don't know why I said what I did next, considering my life would be ten times easier without Carter's existence. But without thinking in terms of logistics, I blurt out:

"It wasn't his fault."

Marcus' disappointed gaze snaps to me, and his brow furrows. "What was that, Miss Stevens?"

I can feel Carter's gaze shift to me, but I look right into Marcus' eyes and lie like I've never lied before. "I put my own bras up on the flagpole, sir. As a practical joke. I thought it was funny. But Carter had nothing to do with it. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, I guess."

Marcus glances between me and Carter like he's waiting for one of us to admit I was lying. Carter was deadly still beside me, and I kept my poker face on, praying that Marcus wouldn't see through me.

"Why would you do that?" Marcus asks wearily, his brow furrowing.

I straightened up. "Like I said, I thought it would be funny." Under my breath, just for Carter to hear, I add, "Which it wasn't. At all."

Marcus stares at me for another moment, trying to catch me out, before he turns his calmed gaze to Carter. "Well, Mr. Miller, I'm sorry to have jumped to conclusions." He looks back at me. "As for you, Miss Stevens, I'm very unimpressed. Because it was your first offense, I'll let you off with a two week shift in the cafeteria. I'll have to call your parents to inform them of your 'practical joke'."

My eyes widened as he mentions my parents, and I lurch forward in my seat, eyes wide, and plead, "No, Marcus, please don't call my parents. I swear I'll never do anything like that again. Just... please don't call my parents."

Marcus stares at me for a moment, his lips pressed together in a tight line. I see some sympathy dance in his eyes and practically sigh in relief when he says, "Okay, fine, I won't call your parents. But if you let anything like this happen again, then I will not hesitate to call home and tell them."

I nod feverishly. "Thank you, Marcus."

"Remember, two weeks work in the cafeteria. Be there by ten o'clock tomorrow morning for your assignment." Marcus nods once. "You are free to go."

Extremely exhausted from our exchange, I trudge out of his office, letting out a deep breath when I was outside. That was close. If Marcus had called my parents, then I would've been done for. It wouldn't matter that I was here for one of the best piano teachers on the East coast; I would've gone home.

"Why did you do that?"

I turned around and saw Carter standing there, watching me with an unreadable expression on his face. It was obvious that he hadn't expected me to save his ass back there, and to be fair, I didn't expect myself to do it either. But something about the way Marcus threatened him with Juvie made my stomach uneasy, and I did what I thought was right.

I shrug at Carter and admit, "I don't know." After a second, I add, "It would suck to go to Juvie all summer."

Carter remained silent. There were so many questions on the tip of my tongue that I wanted to ask, but didn't know how to ask any of them. So instead, I just waited for him to speak so I didn't have to.

"No one has ever covered for me," Carter admits quietly, and I can tell that it takes a lot for him to say what he does next. "Thank you."

I nod awkwardly, my mind still swimming with questions I wanted to ask. Like how the court thought going to a summer camp would straighten Carter out instead of Juvie, or what he had done to land himself in court in the first place.

Before I could think better of it, I blurt, "What did you do?"

Carter's eyebrows raise, but you could practically feel him recoil. His expression hardens and an invisible wall is pulled up miles high so I'll never understand what he was actually feeling. I would've yelled at him for doing such a thing if I didn't do the exact same.

"Didn't you hear the rumors going around camp?" Carter says nonchalantly, but I could tell it bothered him. "There are plenty stories."

"Rumors are rarely true," I answer honestly, eyeing him carefully in case his mask fell.

His hazel eyes examine me after I say this, silence settling between us for a moment. It wasn't intimidating, but rather curious. Like he's never received such an answer before. Finally, he shrugs, a movement so small it would've gone unnoticed had I not been studying him the way he was studying me.

"Shit happened, I got caught, end of story. That's all you need to know." Carter's voice is filled with a sense of finality.

He starts walking away, and I momentarily feel bad that I've upset him. Why, I'm not sure, considering that this was the boy that dyed my hair blue and hung up my bras on the flag pole for everyone to see. But for some reason, my heart broke a little when I noticed how cold he suddenly got, like the past plagued him somehow.

So in an effort to lighten the mood, I call after him, "Does this mean we have a truce?"

When he turns around, he's got a small smile on his lips, and I practically sigh a breath of relief when I see it. "For now."

It was only after Carter successfully disappeared among the campers that I wondered why the hell I suddenly cared so much.

+ + +

"Wake up, Mina," Poppy's familiar voice began lulling me awake. "Come on, it's already ten thirty."

This piece of information made my eyebrows furrow, and I forced my eyes open. Sleepily, I turn on my side and face my best friend, who was dressed up in her going out clothes, fresh makeup on her face, her wild curls looking somewhat tame.

"Ten thirty?" I mutter, and then glance out the window to see darkness outside.

"You slept all day," Poppy mused, shaking her head. "I tried to wake you up for dinner, but you wouldn't budge. But now it's time to go out."

I groan, letting my face fall on the pillow as an emptiness upsets my stomach. "I'm hungry."

"I thought you would be, so I stole the key to get into the dining hall." Poppy says excitedly, and I can practically hear her smirk.

I let it settle that I slept all day, from ten in the morning to ten at night, before finally shaking off my sleepiness and getting up. Clumsily, I tugged on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top, putting very little effort into my outfit, partly because I could barely see in the darkened cabin but mostly because I didn't care. I skipped reapplying makeup and embraced my slept-on mascara from earlier in the day.

We tip toed out of the cabin so we didn't wake anyone else up, and once we were out, we headed for the dining hall. Poppy teased me as my stomach growled, but I just shrugged, too excited for food to care. When we got to the back of the dining hall, near the door that I caught Carter stealing boxes of supplies, I kept guard while Poppy slipped the key in the lock and opened the door.

Once we were inside, Poppy flicked the light on and grinned. "Well, this worked out nicely."

And it did. The lunch ladies had, apparently, left the already prepared breakfast out on the counters, wrapped in cling wrap. There was bacon, sausage, eggs, French toast, home fries, muffins, croissants, and grits laid out nicely in individual metal tubs. Poppy had already reached the croissants before I was done examining the spread, and my stomach growled in anticipation.

I ended up with two muffins and a chocolate croissant in hand before we tip toed back out of the dining hall. I stuffed a muffin in my face immediately, almost moaning from how good it tasted. Say what you want about dining halls at school, but the dining hall at Camp Wisahickon was to die for. As I was mid-bite in my blueberry muffin, walking out of the dining hall, the chocolate croissant was suddenly plucked out of my fingers.

"Aw, princess, you shouldn't have," Carter's obnoxious voice coos.

I turn and see him standing there with James and Justin, biting into my chocolate croissant that he stole from me. My eyes narrow at him immediately, feeling a newfound hatred for him. There's a special place in hell for people who steal other people's food.

"Miller, I know you did not just take my food," I try to say calmly, eyes zeroing in on the croissant. "Because that would've been a very big mistake."

He smirks. "Oh, did you want some?"

Justin hits his arm, and looks back and forth between Carter and me. "Dude. Remember what happened last time you messed with her? Our cabin still reeks of vinegar."

Poppy laughs loudly upon hearing Justin, and I smirk smugly at Carter as he reassessed. I could tell Carter was struggling trying to decide if it was worth it to back down, and I wanted to roll my eyes at his stubborn pridefulness. Poppy watches impatiently before sighing dramatically.

"I'll make the decision for you," She says sweetly, and leans forward to grab the remains of my coveted croissant from Carter's loose grip.

"Thanks Pop," I say gratefully, reclaiming my food. "Let's go in case a counselor wakes up."

She nods in agreement, and without another word, we walk away from the boys. Unfortunately for us, we didn't get very far before their footsteps mirrored ours, catching up to us.

"So how'd you get into the dining hall?" James asks curiously.

Poppy glances at him with a mischievous smirk. "I stole the key from one of the lunch ladies when she was looking through the cabinets."

Justin snickers and asks, "How the hell did you do that without her noticing?"

As Poppy shows off her sneakiness to the twins, I notice Carter is silent beside me, the air of playfulness now gone. For a brief second, I remembered our conversation this morning, about what he had done that was bad enough to get him in Juvie. Curiosity poured through my veins all over again, like I needed an answer or else I might physically collapse, but I bit my lip to keep myself from asking questions.

"So, are your parents really that bad?" Carter muses, surprising me, and I frown at him.

He was looking forward, ignoring my gaze, when he asked me. My brow furrows and I wonder why he would ask me such a question out of the blue, and then wonder if I should tell him the truth.

But this is Carter Miller we're talking about here, and I didn't trust him with my personal issues, so I just shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

He glances at me sideways, his hazel eyes examining me in the moonlight. "You seemed pretty worried earlier just because a camp counselor was going to call your parents."

"Camp director," I correct lamely instead of giving him any insight into my relationship with my parents.

Carter snorts. "Same thing. So, they're that bad?"

I take a look at Carter and see genuine curiosity in his gaze. His expression isn't as guarded as it was this morning, and for some reason, I think that I can trust him. Just as I make the mental decision to tell him at least some of the truth, he opens his mouth again.

"Who am I kidding? You're the perfect daughter. Of course your parents aren't that bad," Carter concludes, bitterness lacing his tone.

Why would I ever think that I can tell Carter anything about my personal life? I shake my head, not at his false information but my stupidity for thinking that maybe he wasn't as bad as he seemed.

"You know," I say quietly, disappointment evident in my voice, my eyes straight ahead instead of meeting his challenging gaze. "I didn't jump to conclusions when I heard the rumors about you, but clearly it was too much to expect that you would do the same for me."

He didn't respond, and I didn't give him time to. We had reached cabin 14, and I just walked towards the front door, where Poppy was standing, and entered with her, leaving Carter behind. The second I got in there, I went to the cooler and grabbed a beer, suddenly intent on getting drunk enough to forget Carter Miller existed.