!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pull it together, Viv. Don’t get distracted by all that fineness. You’re on a mission. Theo isn’t part of it. Unless he needs to be. Sweet Jesus Lord I hope he needs to be.

Update: It’s after dinner. No fourth camper has arrived. Fingers crossed she never does.

Update #2: The fourth camper just came in. A new girl. Time to either terrorize her or befriend her. I haven’t decided which one it’ll be.

June 23,

Today I showed New Girl the ropes. Someone had to. This place is not for the faint of heart.

New Girl has a name, by the way. It’s Emma. Cute, right? And she is. So young and innocent and shaky. Like a newborn kitten. She reminds me of when I was that age, mostly because, underneath that My Little Pony exterior, I think she might actually be a bitch in training. She stood up to me last night, which took major ovaries. I was duly impressed. No one has stood up to me since Katherine died. I missed that feeling of being put in my place. It’s tough being the only alpha female in the pack.

But, like Theo’s divine handsomeness, I can’t let New Girl distract me too much. Mission first. Friendship second. You-know-who learned that the hard way.

At least I got to roam a little bit after archery. I scoped out all the places I haven’t looked yet, including the Big L. I almost made it inside before Casey caught me sniffing around the place. With any other counselor, I would have tried to sneak in anyway. But not her. She’s weirdly devoted to this place. I mean, a former camper coming back as a counselor for two summers in a row? I can’t think of anything more pathetic.

My guess is she’s obsessed with Theo. It’s obvious she’s got the hots for him. She throws herself at him every chance she can get. Last year she caught me flirting with Theo and got all huffy, like she fucking owned him or something. Ever since, she’s been dying to get me kicked out. Hence the extra attention I receive during cabin check.

Like I said—pathetic.

June 24,

On her second night at camp, poor Emma had her VERY. FIRST. PERIOD. She woke me up last night with blood on her fingers like Carrie White. I felt so bad for her. I remember my first period. It was awful. I swear, the only thing that kept me sane was Katherine, who’d been through it all by that point. And where was Mrs. Senator, you ask? Gone, of course. Oblivious. She didn’t even know I was menstruating until the maid told her six months later.

So I did for Em what Kath did for me. Which means, in Carrie terms, I’m Sue Snell in this scenario. Wait, I guess that actually makes me the gym teacher. No, I refuse to be that bore. I’m sticking with Sue.

She survived.

June 26,

I almost drowned this afternoon.

Well, pretended to drown, which isn’t quite the same thing. It wasn’t planned. I just spontaneously decided to do it. Still, I deserve an Oscar for that performance. Or at least a Golden Globe. Best Performance of Drowning by a Regional Champion in the 100-Meter Butterfly. The gulping-down-lake-water part sucked, though. There’s probably some creepy water-borne microbe swimming in my stomach as I write this. But it was worth it. I got the reaction I was looking for.

While I’m on the subject of drowning, let’s talk about Franny’s husband for a sec. Don’t you think it’s strange that a dude who almost made it to the Olympics drowned? I sure as fuck do.

June 28,

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

I made it into the Big L. At last! I went during lunch when I knew all the campers and counselors would be in the mess hall and F and her entourage would be dining on the back deck. That gave me enough time to slip in through the front door without anyone noticing. And wow, was it worth the wait. I knew F was hiding something in there. And, sure enough, she was. Several somethings. I managed to steal one before Lottie caught me in the study. She acted all cool about it, but I think she was seriously pissed to find me there. And now I’m freaking out because she’s going to tell F. I just know it.

Not fucking good, diary.

My reading is interrupted by a sudden, startling rap on the cabin door. I’d fallen so far down the rabbit hole of Vivian’s thoughts that the real world melted away, unnoticed. Now it’s back, making me look up from the page and call out in a trembling voice, “Who is it?”

“Emma, it’s Chet. Is everything okay?”

I slam the diary shut, stuff it under my pillow, and take a quick, calming breath before saying, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The door opens a crack, and Chet peers inside, his hair a swoosh over his eyes. He pushes it away and says, “Can I come in?”

“Make yourself at home.”

He steps inside and takes a seat on my hickory trunk, his long legs extended, arms crossed. Although he and Theo aren’t biologically related, the two nevertheless share some traits. Both have the height and physique that makes everything they wear seem perfectly tailored. Both move with athletic grace. And both radiate that laid-back, carefree vibe that comes from being to the manor born. Or, in their case, adopted.

“I noticed you weren’t at the campfire,” Chet says. “I wondered if something was wrong. You know, after what happened at lunch.”

“Which one of them sent you? Your mother or your brother?”

“Neither, actually. I came on my own. I wanted to clear up a few things. About the camera and why my mother invited you back here. Both were my idea.”