PewDieCry: A Summer Best Forgotten (Collab with Mocha)

Chapter Six

A/N: Hey Guys! Here's another chapter of the collaboration between me and the utterly fabulous Mocha Latte who has once again helped fix the mistakes I make while writing. This is my chapter I have here for you, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, thanks for being so patient while waiting for an update, hopefully we aren't keeping you waiting too long.

 

Cry’s P.O.V

The rest of the day was a drag. Any activities we were meant to do that afternoon were called off and moved to tomorrow. Apparently almost drowning someone was a big deal around here, and Scott was missing for most of the afternoon after being dragged to Rhys’ office after the lunch I decided to skip. Technically, it was Rhys’ fault for making us do all that stupid ‘trust’ shit. It’s not like Pewds died anyway, he was perfectly fine! How was Scott supposed to know he couldn’t swim?

A soft tap on our cabin door brought me back to reality. Russ sat up on his bed and dropped the comic he’d been reading.

“Yeah?” he called.

“It’s only me,” Red replied. At the sound of her voice, Russ was already calling her in and throwing his comic under his pillow, making me chuckle at his eagerness to see her. We hadn’t seen much of her since this morning but as she came into our cabin, we both noticed something was troubling her.

“Is everything alright, babe?” Russ asked as she dropped onto the end of his bed and brought her legs up.

“What Scott did was pretty fucked up.”

Russ and I exchanged a nervous glance and I found myself shuffling to the end of my own bed.

“Scott didn’t know he couldn’t swim, it was just a stupid prank,” I muttered.

Red rolled her eyes and turned to Russ. “I don’t even get why you hate him so much. Maybe you could try and be a little nicer to him?”

I noticed Russ consider her words and I quickly interrupted whatever he was going to say. “Ah, you don’t understand. He’s an asshole. I can’t stand him.”

A loud sigh filled the room as Red rolled her eyes at me. “I just don’t get why. If he’d done one shitty thing to you then I’d get it, I’ll leave you alone to do whatever the fuck you like...but he hasn’t done a single thing,” she argued, a certain passion weaving into her voice like it did whenever she spoke her opinions. Sometimes I found myself wondering why she hadn’t run for Senior-Class President of her school, instead of trying to ruin it with graffiti.

“Are you forgetting the food fight he started this morning?” I asked.

“No. He only did that because you stole all of his stuff,” she pointed out, dismissing my point and any relevance it held. “And don’t even try telling me that you had nothing to do with that.”

I raised my arms as if announcing that her accusation was false. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said softly, making sure my voice was filled with innocence.