Scarlett and her Disastrous Summer [ H i a t u s ]

✿9✿ It Isn't My Fault You're a Pedophile

Wowza, long time no update. Sorry to those who actually like reading this book. I promise I'll update once a week a now. Whoa, just noticed another thing, too: First author's note. I've been practically silent throughout. xD

Okay, okay, back to the story.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Chapter Nine

It Isn’t My Fault You’re a Pedophile

It was pretty dark out, but with the guide of the light from my phone, I made it outside of Camp Cactus. I let out a sigh of relief when I glanced back to find no one following me.

Twenty minutes or so later, I found myself back in front of the restaurant I was at earlier today. The whole place was vacated and looked eerily quiet. I sat down on the curb and was delighted to see that my phone had some signal. Immediately, my phone sounded with unread text messages, and a Skype message from Pierre.

I read through my Pierre’s first before starting on my friends.

Pierre: Qu’est que tu fais Scarlett? (What are you doing Scarlett?)

Me: Rien. C’est très ennuyeux ici. (Nothing. It’s very boring here.)

 

He didn’t reply back. Probably because he was busy doing something at the moment, unlike me.

Anyway, my friend, Quincy, was asking me where I was, and to call her when I got her text. So, I dialed her number and put the phone to my ear, waiting patiently for her to pick up.

When she did, the first thing she said was, “Where the fuck are you, Scarlett?”

“You probably won’t believe this, but I’m in Arizona.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s true,” I said, unhappily. “My parents thought I should bond with my cousin, so they shipped me off to Arizona with her. Apparently, Agnès had signed up for a summer camp here, without my notice. It was a last minute kind of thing.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“There was no signal here. And plus, I forgot.”

“Wow, you’re such a good friend, Scar.”

“I’m sorry.”

“How’s it there?” I could hear her drinking something. It was probably an energy drink. She’s obsessed with them.

“Terrible. I’ve already gotten in trouble with the head counselor here.”

Quincy gasped. “What?!”

“This camp’s fucking lame, alright? I met this cute boy yesterday at a restaurant, though, and we hung out, and then—”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there. You met a cute boy?” I could practically hear Quincy’s smile. “Oh my god, Scar. No way. You have to tell me about him.”

So, like the good friend that I am, I told her about Cain. But it’s not like I liked Cain or anything. He wasn’t my type, but I wanted to make it seem that I was doing at least something cool here. To be honest, my type of guy is the one that brings me flowers on every date and holiday, the one to carry you on his back when you’re tired, and the one to cuddle with you under the stars…