25 | A Lot Of Trouble

Lizzie told me on day one that Haru is the camp's most notorious prankster, and over the past month, I've quickly learned why. I've heard stories that range from mattresses on roofs to underwear being strung up on the flagpole, and one very memorable story about slipping laxatives into his best friend's oatmeal. I know if anyone can help me, it'll be Haru.

He's surrounded by his usual posse on the beach, and is, as always, the center of attention. He's like a charismatic male version of Rita, and I can only hope that the charm isn't a front. If he turns out to be even half as bitchy as she is, I'll be better off doing this alone.

A scowling boy and a girl with threatening biceps stand up as I approach, crossing their arms and standing in front of the group like a pair of bodyguards. I slow my walk as if to invite conversation, but their faces remain blank as Haru continues talking with the others behind them.

"Um," I look between them, not knowing if this is normal, "I need to talk to Haru."

"About?" The guy asks, arching a dark eyebrow.

"I need his help," I answer. What are these, his goons?

The girl speaks next. "Is he expecting you?"

"Well... no, but it's sort of urgent."

"Mr. Nakamura is a busy man," she replies. "You'll have to make an appointment."

I try not to scoff at the absurdity. Mr. Nakamura? The kid is what, sixteen?

"Jennie, Xavier," Haru speaks up, causing the two henchmen to turn and look at him. "I've got time— let her pass."

With the single wave of his hand the group around him disperses, and the pair step aside to let me pass. I thank them, trying not to show how seriously weirded out I am by whatever type of mafia I've just unknowingly walked into.

"I apologize for the dramatics," Haru says, gesturing for me to sit across from him in the sand. I do, crossing my legs and returning his smile. "I heard you say you need my help. What with?"

I take a deep breath, warm him it's a long story, and delve into everything, starting with what happened between me and Mei in April. He offers nods and hums of understanding throughout the explanation, and listens intently when I tell him my plan to stop Rita from sabotaging the costumes.

When I'm finished, he clasps his hands on his lap and closes his eyes, as if he's taking it all in. The sun shines on his long, black hair, and for a second, it's easy to see why he has so many people who respect him. There's something regal about him, even knowing how outlandish and childish he can be.

"Delena..." he finally breaks the silence, opening his eyes. "It's a beautiful tale. A truly moving story of friendship and betrayal."

I just nod, not sure how to respond to his flowery words, and expecting him to say more. When he doesn't, I prompt, "Um, yeah. Right. So... that means you'll help?"

My nerves are eased when he gives a single nod, and I can't help myself from letting out a heavy breath. "Thank you. Seriously, thank you. I know it's asking a lot—"

I stop myself as he holds up a hand, smiling knowingly.

"I don't measure favors that pertain to matters of the heart. I will do what you've asked of me. And I'll be keeping my fingers crossed that your plan works."

I grin, feeling myself relax. With how royally I've been screwing up lately, I didn't expect this to go so well. My gut tells me to have faith in Haru, and I do. Not trusting people is part of what got me into this mess in the first place.

I thank him again and stand, but hesitate. "Um... Mei will be okay, right? I don't want to hurt her."

Haru waves his hand and shakes his head, as if to say there's nothing for me to worry about. "Trust me, I've done this before. There will be very minor discomfort for about an hour, but she'll be right as rain tomorrow morning." He pauses for a second, then gives me that smile again. "You're a good friend, Delena."

"I— thank you," I stutter, surprised by the sentiment.

Hopefully, by tomorrow, I'll feel like that's true.

• • • 🌻 • • •

Step two of Operation Ending It has me skipping lunch and heading across camp grounds, over to the staff area. It looks different in the daytime— much less intimidating than it did that night when we planted the bag of underwear. A few counselors are making their way over to the mess hall, and some of the teachers are hanging out by a cabin chatting away.

I walk past them, heading straight for the main office. As I reach for the handle, Lizzie's words from our first day echo in my head.

You won't need to go in there unless you plan on getting into trouble.

It almost makes me laugh, thinking how that definitely turned out to not be as "unlikely" as I thought. And Liz was right: not impossible. That's for sure.

I head inside the small building and spot exactly the person I'm looking for, sitting behind a cluttered desk and typing away at a computer, glasses perched on her nose. Ms. Rodriguez only looks up once the door creaks and shuts behind me.

She offers me a warm grin, swiveling her chair in my direction. "Well, hello Ms. Torres. What can I do for you?"

I must not hide my shock very well, because she laughs and waves it away. "Oh, don't look so surprised— I know all my campers' names. Even the ones who behave as well as you."

At that I grimace, and walk over to take the seat across from her. I'm clammy with sweat, and the slowly spinning fan above our heads doesn't do much to help me. Still, nerves be damned. I have to do this. There's no turning back, and I don't want to, no matter what the consequences are.

"Well, I hate to tell you this, but I've actually gotten myself into... a lot of trouble this summer," I admit, fidgeting in my seat. "That's sort of why I'm here."

"Oh?" Ms. Rodriguez takes off her glasses and turns off the computer monitor, giving me her full attention. "Well, I'm sure it's nothing we can't fix."

"I seriously hope you're right about that," I say, and for the second time today, I delve into the story of how I ended up here. I confess everything, but leave out Lizzie and Zack as much as I can, taking the blame for all the pranks. But other than that, I spill it all, admitting to starting the war, being the one behind the theft of Rita's underwear, and telling her what really happened to the dock.

Eventually, my rambling leads me to what I overheard between Rita and Mei. And once again, I twist the facts a little. "Basically, Rita's going to do it because Mei refused. She said she's going to go to the fashion building after curfew and destroy her and Mei's costumes, then plant the evidence at Lizzie's sewing station so it'll look like she did it."

It's a lie, but if everything goes to plan, it'll hopefully turn out to be the truth.

"I know you have no reason to believe me, but I'm really sorry for everything I did," I conclude, hearing the desperation in my voice as Ms. Rodriguez looks on with a hard-to-read expression. "I'll work to pay you back for the dock, because I know that was my fault. But I came to you because I need you to know, if something happens to those costumes, it was not Lizzie Braun who did it."

Ms. Rodriguez sighs, sitting back in her chair. There's a heavy moment of silence, and then she exhales again, sitting up and leaning against her desk. "Well. That certainly is a lot of trouble. But like I said, it's nothing we can't fix."

I swallow my nerves, wondering if she can see that I'm shaking and bouncing my leg like a madwoman.

"First of all, I appreciate your honesty, Delena. I know that coming forward about the theft wasn't easy, and I admire you for admitting to it. The dock is none of your concern— you didn't vandalize it, and you didn't encourage anyone else to, so you hold no responsibility for that. About the costumes, rest assured I'll be taking your hint about Ms. Wexler very seriously."

I let myself relax, breathing out in relief. That was exactly what I wanted to hear— I should've tried this honesty thing sooner.

"But,"

Of course, I wince, Of course there's a but.

"You did steal another campers property, and there has to be a consequence for that."

I nod, even as my heart clenches in fear. "I understand."

"Obviously our options are limited, given that tomorrow is the last full day, and that this is the last year you'd be allowed to attend Camp Create It anyway. And... truth be told, as someone who had to deal with my fair share of bullies back in the day, there's a large part of me that wants to send you out that door without any punishment."

A smile breaks out on my face, relief washing over me that she at least understands where I'm coming from and why I did the things I did. I never wanted to cause trouble for the sake of it; I was just trying to do what I thought was right.

"I'm revoking your participation in the showcase," she finally says. "But I hope you find some comfort knowing that if Rita Wexler gets caught anywhere near the sewing building tonight, you'll be seeing her understudy in tomorrow's play."

I manage to smile again, nodding. "Thank you, Ms. Rodriguez. For hearing me out, and for... everything."

"Thank you, Delena," she says as I stand. "I know this was difficult, but just think, you saved the work of two very dedicated tailors, the production of an entire cast and crew, and your friend Lizzie. That's a whole lot of heartache you prevented."

There's a lot I want to tell her. That she runs a wonderful camp, that I've had more fun this summer than I ever could have imagined. But as she gives me a gentle smile and takes a sip from her coffee, I get the feeling she already knows.