Dead of Summer

by A.J. Merlin

Working as a camp counselor has been eye-opening when it comes to kids. Namely, how much I don’t want any of my own.

Whatever love she has for gossip cannot be matched by my obsession with it. “Don’t leave me like this. I’ll die⁠—”

For me—who’s never had an extra social bone in her body and barely has enough to get through the day here—he seems to be a fountain of wealth in that area.

“I’m almost done, so I’ll be out in a few minutes. If you see any of my kids actively killing someone, can you at least dangle something shiny in front of them until I get there?”

“Oh, my god.” The words come out as a whisper as all the warmth drains out of me, into the ground below. “Not quite,” Kayde responds, still with that half-apologetic smile. “And if you’re really good for me, sweetheart, I won’t make you meet him tonight.”

But this isn’t a movie, and I’m not emotionally equipped to be the final girl of a summer camp massacre.

The rope wavers, and distantly I hear the other campers and counselors cheering for one team or the other. Melody’s voice is the loudest, however, as she instructs all of Redtail to try harder and not let Coyote win. I’d never say it, but the little monster really is my favorite. She’ll probably grow up to be wanted in more than one country, but that’s okay. The nuclear weapon screaming insults at Coyote in front of me is perfect in her own way.

“You were so good for me, sweetheart,” my ax murderer whispers against my hair, just over the sound of the water. “Just relax for me, baby. I’ve got you.” Somehow, this is just as bad as everything else. My hands curl against his chest, eyes clenching shut again as I stand there against him, held up like a lover, and shudder with something that’s close enough to revulsion and fear that if it’s something else, I sure as hell can’t tell the difference. “I hate you,” I whisper against his tanned, perfect skin, breathing in open-mouthed pants. “I hate you so much.” “I know, Summer.” His hands shift down to my hips, just to wrap around me again and hold me close in his embrace like he really gives a damn. “But if you didn’t, then this wouldn’t be nearly as fun for me.”

“Well, I’ve been kayaking with Liza long enough that surely some of her skill has rubbed off on me. So no, I’m not nervous.” None of her skill has rubbed off on me, and there’s not an ounce of confidence sticking to my bones today.

Melody nudges me and I turn to look at her, unsurprised to see the small bruise on the side of her chin. According to her and the other girls in my cabin, she’d ‘slipped’ and accidentally taken down the boy who hit me with a paddle. With her fist. According to Daniel, though he’d been sheepish when he’d said it, the kid had deserved it. He’d thought it was funny that he’d knocked me into the river, and funnier still that Kayde needed to fish me out. The boy was telling everyone at the beach about it, before Melody’s little ‘accident’ knocked him into the lake, off the dock, and into the arms of some very unsympathetic girls who wanted to see how long he could hold his breath.

“I was okay. You didn’t have to try to drown him.” “If I’d wanted to drown him, he’d be drowned,” Melody mutters, almost too quietly for me to hear.

She grins once more before walking off in the direction of the Redtail girls, probably telling them I’ve shot down their dreams of sawing one of Daniel’s boys in half and only announcing later it’s not a magic trick.

Summer, tell me how to make you mine in your mind and not just my own.” “Get hit by a semi.” “Like I said, baby girl, only if you’re behind the wheel.”

“All mine, for the rest of your life. I don’t really believe in an afterlife, by the way. But if there is one, you’re mine there as well.” “What if we go to separate places in the afterlife?” I ask, scoffing a low laugh. “Last I checked, heaven isn’t for murderers.” “Then I’ll just have to drag you down to hell with me.”

“This song choice is abysmal,” I mumble, my eyes closed as the wind whistles in through the window and blows against my face. “Like, if this is coincidence, it’s probably fate telling me something.” Kayde chuckles, the sound barely audible over the words of “Psycho Killer” circulating through the car before being snatched away by the wind. “It’s a coincidence,” he assures me, and reaches out to touch the screen of the console to skip the rest of the song. Not that “Tainted Love” is much better. I snort and turn my head to face him as my brows climb toward my bangs. “Really?” I ask, voice deadpan. “Did you make this playlist just for today?” “This is my usual playlist. Not my fault it’s out to get me today.”