A Parthan Summer, Julie Steimle [best ereader for pdf TXT] 📗

comparing the contents with Michelle’s. “Maya is not FBI.” 

Joy stepped up to Michelle’s side, snapping back at Marissa. “Maya has to be. If Jeff Streigle said she was FBI—”

“And he picks on Zormna all the time,” Michelle added with a brisk nod.

“Then he is telling the truth.” Joy folded her arms and cocked her head to the side with a satisfied smirk.

Holly shook her head, taking a step back. She placed her hands on her hips. “Baloney. If Mrs. Brown is an FBI agent, then why not Coach Brown? And if Coach Brown is FBI then who is to say that this isn’t some government plot to sabotage all the future games of our district? I mean, get real.”

Those not from Pennington nodded as if that was that, though several others jeered at the Pennington girls for being such airheads.

“You people don’t know anything,” Jennifer snapped, nodding to her teammates.

Holly stepped up to Jennifer. “And I think you’re a dimwit.”

“And you’re a total witch!” Jennifer spat back, ready to leap on Holly to tear her hair out, her mind completely forgetting the girl was a black belt in karate.

Before a fight could start, Michelle pushed in between the two girls. “Jennifer is right. You all know nothing about it. It is a Pennington matter.”

“Pennington matter….” Holly snorted with a look at the others around her who laughed.

Michelle talked over the laugher, raising her voice. “We know because we all knew about her aunt. Zormna’s aunt—the crazy lady of Hayes Street—was killed by the FBI.”

“Was not!” Holly protested with a huff. 

Marissa stared. “Her aunt really was the Pennington crazy lady?”

All the Pennington girls nodded in unison.

Marissa whipped her eyes up the hill to where Zormna had gone and shook her head. “Then maybe Maya is FBI. Zormna is about as weird as that psycho.” Then turning excitedly back to face Michelle, she said, “She doesn’t believe she is a Martian too, does she?”

“A Martian?” Holly said, walking back from both head cheerleaders in disgust.

With a bite, Michelle answered, “No. Zormna may be weird, but she is sane.”

“The FBI kidnapped her too, though,” Stacey interjected, finally feeling it was safe to speak again.

Backing further away from them, Holly shook her head, along with most of the others.

“This is too weird.” To the Pennington and Monroe teams who were now looking as if they had made some kind of a peace agreement, she said, “You are all nuts. The FBI is not following Zormna.”

“Yeah?” Stacey said, angling her head to the side with a cocky smirk. “Well ask Zormna to show you her bullet wound some time. She didn’t have it before she vanished for three days.”

“She probably ran off with a dangerous guy, like that Jeff.” Holly turned with a snort, striding back to her team. But they were now looking puzzled at the Monroe girls.

“Zormna?” Michelle threw her head back with a laugh. “Little miss I-don’t-wear-anything-without-sleeves, girl? Now you get real. You don’t know her like we do. She may be a little goddess with all the boys staring at her as if she’s miss perfect, but she’s just some military school chick with a stick up her butt. A goody-goody that kisses up to teachers and—”

“Zormna is not a kiss-up,” Joy shot a glare at Michelle. “She argues with them. She and Mr. Parker—”

Jennifer stepped between them, shaking her head at Michelle before saying to Holly, “What she means to say is that Zormna is really naïve when it comes to that sort of thing. The girl has only sports and studies in her head. I can’t imagine her running off with a guy—especially Jeff who hadn’t gone missing when she did. We just tease her about him because it riles her up. She was kidnapped.”

But Holly huffed and turned, stomping away. “You’re all paranoid.”

Most of her schoolmates followed her.

But Amy Fields paused, leaning near to the Pennington girls in a whisper. “Was she really kidnapped by the FBI?”

Stacey nodded vigorously. And so did Joy.

“Come on Amy!” Holly shouted, glaring down the hill.

Amy went white and hastily ran up the hill, joining her teammates. Holly sneered back at them before leaving entirely.

“I hope someday Zormna kicks her butt,” Jennifer said out loud.

Agreeing nods came from all the teams around her.

 

Chapter Thirteen: Judgment

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heredity deals the cards; environment plays the hand—Charles L. Brewer—

           

 

Someone reported the incident at the lake to the camp director. So once again Zormna and Jeff were summoned to the director’s officer where they sat before the man. Exasperated, he lectured at the two of them for two hours. And for two hours they ignored every word with bored looks on their faces. He could tell he had not gotten through to either of them. 

“You both have been thorns in my side ever since you got here, but that last incident takes the cake!” Mr. Hardt paced in front of his desk, his face red as he fumed at them.  

Jeff rubbed his forehead, wondering if the man was going to use every trite colloquial phrase in his lecture. It had been tedious.

Zormna hung back her head in protest, speaking her views as loudly as she ever did: “But they are FBI! And it was self-defense! Had she been a real counselor she would have let go of my arm, because grabbing me would have been considered harassment.”

“Or you would have pushed her in the lake,” Jeff mildly added, glancing at the ceiling.

Zormna shot him a dirty look. It really annoyed her that Jeff never let go of things.

Mr. Hardt stared at their exchange, glowering. “This isn’t funny! You have accused two good people—”

“Good?” Zormna exclaimed feeling exasperated. “Do you have any idea what the FBI did to me last time?”

Jeff smirked. “It’s not like you remember either, Zormna.”

Turning on her fellow captive, Zormna rose in her seat. “Shut up, Jafarr! I wasn’t talking to you!”

Turning away with his chin up as if what she has said didn’t bother him, Jeff kept smirking. Director Hardt thought it was insanely obnoxious, watching them bicker like this. He could not understand why Zormna had called for him of the first day in the first place. They really fought like cats and dogs.

“I have had it! Now I want the both of you to be silent.” He stared down at the two, glowering in such a forbidding manner both clammed right up.

The director walked back to his seat behind his desk. He sat down and took a breath. Steepling his fingers, he said while struggling to contain his temper, “I have derived a punishment for the both of you.”

Both lifted their heads sharply.

“Punishment for telling the truth?” Zormna exclaimed, rising from her chair.

“Sit down and be quiet!” the director ordered.

Jeff cringed, pressing a hand to his temple.

Zormna scowled but sat down. 

“You will both be confined to your cabins except for meals, which you will both eat in the kitchen after you work K.P.”

Jeff lifted his gaze in protest but stopped when he saw the director’s angry glare. He shrank back.

Mr. Hardt continued. “You will report to me after each meal, and we will discuss your goals for improvement—”

“Goals?” Zormna repeated with disgust. 

Mr. Hardt’s glare ended her protest quickly. “And you will both apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Brown for your rude behavior.”

Jeff shook his head, turning his eyes to the floor. Zormna rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

Opening his mouth decidedly, Jeff said, emphasizing each word as he watched the camp director’s reaction, “You want me to apologize to them for what? What exactly am I being punished for?”

Mr. Hardt’s eyed narrowed tighter. “I want you to apologize to them for accusing and humiliating them. Is that clear?”

“Almost.” Jeff lifted a finger.

Mr. Hardt stiffened.

Leaning forward, Jeff asked clearly, “You want me to apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Brown for accusing them of what?”

The director sat tight-lipped. “You know what.”

Smiling slightly, glad to find out that Mr. Hardt wasn’t entirely ignorant of who had come to camp, Jeff replied with a devious glitter in his eyes, “Oh, I know. I know what. I just want to hear you say it.”

Mr. Hardt shook his head. “Don’t drag me into your fantasy world, Mr. Streigle. I’m not playing that game.”

“Fantasy!” Zormna’s eyes popped down from the ceiling. She stared indignantly at the director. “I know you there when those first two agents came. We were in your office! You know full well the FBI intended to watch me, to ‘protect me’ as they called it. Why are you pretending it didn’t happen?”

“Maybe he is in denial,” Jeff muttered, though he didn’t believe it. He was watching Mr. Hardt’s face turn pale. There was something the FBI had told him that he and Zormna didn’t know about. But considering the FBI’s track record and what he knew about them, Jeff decided it was best to keep playing like he was just a kid from St. Louis/Chicago.

Zormna stared with disgust. “I doubt that. They made some arrangement. That is obvious.”

Jeff chuckled, mostly for show. “Of course…. He knows they are FBI agents. It doesn’t matter that it was Mark that found the bug. It doesn’t even matter that Mr. Hardt met those two agents on the first day. He is pretending it didn’t happen to keep their cover. They must have said something to him.”

Mr. Hardt went rigid, looking entirely offended at the accusation. 

Jeff kept going. “In fact, I bet he even knows that the lodge and this office is bugged.” Rising slowly out of his chair, Jeff murmured as he mused it over, “I bet they even bugged our cabins, and there are more operatives around the campground than we think.”

He shared a look with Zormna who looked annoyed that he was pretending to be figuring it all out just then. She knew he had known all this for a while. Not that Mr. Hardt could tell that was what was bothering her.

“Sit down!” Mr. Hardt demanded.

Jeff ignored him. “Zormna, I bet you’re good at finding bugs. Where do you think one is?”

Snorting, Zormna smothered the urge to grin at him. She didn’t rise from her seat, though. Instead, she lifted her head and peered about the room, murmuring in speculation, “Under the phone, in the pencil holder, the underside of the desk lip, uh…window sill and on the loudspeaker near the door.”

Obligingly, Jeff reached over to the desk sticking his fingers into the pencil holder. He pulled out a small rectangular object with prongs, lifting it up for the director to see. “Nice piece of machinery, don’t you say?”

But Mr. Hardt looked like someone had hit him with a crowbar. He had gone white, his eyes fixing on the rectangular object. The silence in the room became tangible, as if it could be plucked out of the air and pocketed.

“Oh.” Jeff peeked at Zormna. “So he didn’t know they were bugging his office after all. Maybe Palmer and Powell put this here.”

Zormna nodded, slumping deeper in her seat. “I swear they leave bugs everywhere they go. You have no idea how many I have smashed in the past few months.”

Mr. Hardt stood up with an angry glare at Jeff. “Sit. Down.”

Jeff stopped smiling. He tossed the miniature radio transmitter on the table. Stepping back, he sat directly in his chair