<< Go Back

Speak No Evil (Rustic Knoll Bible Camp)

By Mary L. Hamilton

Order Now!

Taylor Dixon hopped from the family van and locked his gaze on the red Corvette entering Rustic Knoll Bible Camp’s parking lot. Its supercharged engine purred like a monster cat as the ’Vette prowled the rows of parked cars hunting a space of its own. He stuffed his auto magazine into his pillowcase and distanced himself from the van, ignoring Dad’s command to unload the car. Taylor drank in the Corvette’s sleek body as it settled across two slots in the back. His heart raced with the engine when the driver revved it up before shutting off the machine.
Oh, for a closer look, but he didn’t dare. Not with Dad nearby. His younger sister came over and leaned into him.
“Nice.” Marissa drew the word out, keeping her voice low.
“It’s awesome.”
Her finger poked his side. “I wasn’t talking about the car.”
Taylor glanced sideways at her, then looked back at the ’Vette.
A boy emerged from the passenger’s seat. He looked to be about Taylor’s age, fifteen. The kid stretched and surveyed the parking lot, a smug grin hugging his face. His eyes met Taylor’s. One eyebrow arched as he lifted his chin high. His grin changed to a smirk before his gaze slid over to Marissa.
Wait. Was that a wink?
Marissa stiffened, caught her breath and stifled a squeal. She squeezed Taylor’s arm, her fingernails biting into the soft skin of his inner elbow. He had little time to consider some guy flirting with his sister before Dad finger-thumped his head.
“Don’t get any ideas. You’re not getting your driver’s license. I don’t want you anywhere near a car like that until I’m not responsible for you anymore.”
Taylor huffed and turned back to their drab gray minivan. “Dad, I’m at camp, remember? Swimming? Softball? Sermons? No cars.”
“Yeah, so quit drooling and get your stuff out of the car. I don’t want to be here all day.”
Ducking under the liftback, Taylor muttered while he pulled out his duffle and sleeping bag. “I wasn’t drooling.”
Marissa reached for her pillow, giggled and whispered, “I was.”
Taylor growled. “Forget it, Riss. He’s a stuck-up snob.”
“How do you know? You haven’t even met him.” She didn’t bother to keep her voice down.
“Didn’t you see the way he looked down his nose at us? He thinks he’s hot because he came to camp in a ’Vette.”
“Oh, he’s hot even without the car. Maybe he looked down his nose at you, but he winked at me. Admit it. You saw it, too.” Marissa struggled to pull her suitcase out of the car. “Ugh! Can you get that out for me?”
Taylor tugged on her overstuffed bag. “What’s in here? You must’ve packed your whole bedroom.” He hauled it out and set it on the ground with a thud.
“Everybody ready?” Mom grabbed her purse and closed the car door.
Dad shut the liftback door. Even though it was summer, he still wore his football coach’s shirt. Dad’s hefty build and graying buzz-cut hair were so different from Taylor’s few kids at school ever guessed he was Coach Dixon’s son. Before Taylor started out with his own duffle bag on wheels, Dad clamped a vise grip on his shoulder. “Take your sister’s suitcase. It’s too heavy for her.”
Taylor handed Marissa his pillow and sleeping bag, then dragged both their suitcases across the gravel parking lot. Marissa’s must be loaded with bricks. He stopped to switch hands. “Riss, we’re only here for a week. Why’d you bring so much stuff?”
“I only brought what I need.” Marissa repositioned her purse strap on her shoulder, then shifted the pillows to her other arm. “Taybo, I can’t wait until you have a car like that Corvette.”
Dad grunted. “In his dreams.”
“His dreams will come true. One day, he’ll be a famous race car driver and he’ll get to drive Mustangs and Corvettes and all kinds of hot cars.” She threw a smile Taylor’s way. “And he’ll take his favorite sister for a ride in them, too. Won’t you?”
Dad shot Taylor a warning look. “He’ll stay miles away from those cars if he knows what’s good for him.”
Taylor hurried to catch up with Dad. “Can’t I at least get my license? I’m almost sixteen. All my friends are learning to drive, and I pulled my grades up like you wanted.”
“You think you deserve to drive? Prove it.” Dad might as well have been talking to one of his players.
“How? What do I have to do?”
“Show me you’re responsible by staying out of trouble.”
Like that would ever happen. Not as long as he kept getting blamed for Marissa’s adventures. Taylor grimaced, but Marissa continued the argument.
“Daddy, just because Jesse stole a car and went to jail doesn’t mean Taylor will, too.”
“Princess, you can stick up for your brother all you want, but I know boys. Taylor hung around Jesse and those delinquent friends of his. Who knows what they taught him?”
Mom threw a glance at them over her shoulder. “Can we not talk about this right now?”
Taylor slowed, letting the others walk ahead of him. Marissa was only thirteen but the way things were going, she’d get her license before he did. The family princess. And Jesse was the prince, Dad’s favorite from the moment he put on a football uniform.
Being stuck between a princess and a prince stinks.
Taylor yanked hard on Marissa’s suitcase and joined the rest of his family at the end of the check-in line. Nurse Willie manned the registration table like last year, wearing her weird hat with the fishing lures all over it. He’d almost persuaded Mom to let him stay home this summer. But then Marissa decided camp sounded like fun, and if she was going, he had to go, too.
Taylor searched the line for a familiar face. No luck. Whenever they inched forward, Dad checked his watch and sighed loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.
Marissa nudged Taylor’s arm. “Tell me where everything is so I don’t get lost. That must be the church.” She pointed to the chapel with its steep roof and blue cross-shaped window.
Taylor nodded toward the nearest building with redwood-stained siding. “That’s the dining hall. The girls’ cabins are over on the other side of it. Guys cabins are back this way, past the chapel.”
“What’s that little hut over there?” Marissa indicated the small building at one end of the dining hall.
“That’s the Snack Shack. A message board is posted on the outside wall on the other side. You’ll need to look there for your Rec team assignment and daily activities.”
“Will we be on the same rec team?”
“I hope not. You’re such a klutz, we’d never win anything.”
“Hey!” Marissa punched his arm and turned her back to him. But it was true. Marissa was as uncoordinated as Jesse was athletic.
Jesse. Even though five years separated them, Jesse had always let him tag along, announcing to his friends, “Hey everybody! Taylor’s here. Say hi to my little brother.” Had there really been a note of pride in Jesse’s voice or was it his imagination, wishful thinking on his part? For a while, he’d taken on his brother’s shuffling walk and the way he pointed both thumbs in the air when something pleased him. But Jesse had often teased him, too, and they’d had their fights. Still, when Jesse was around to toss a football or shoot hoops, Taylor hardly noticed the lack of attention from Dad. He hoped prison wouldn’t change his brother too much by the time he got out.
When they finally reached the check-in table set up in the shade of a large oak tree, Mom handed their health forms to Nurse Willie.
Marissa eyed the camp nurse, her white hair a contrast with her dark skin, and the bucket hat adorned with fishing lures atop her head. “Cool hat.”
Dad rolled his eyes and walked away, shaking his head.
“Thank you.” Willie scanned their health forms. “You must be Taylor’s sister. Good to see you again, Taylor. Looks like you’ve grown a bit since last year.” She held the papers out so the counselor sitting next to her could see the names. “Lauren, this is Taylor Dixon and his sister, Marissa. Taylor was here last year.”
“Hi! Welcome to Rustic Knoll.” Lauren’s smile showed off perfectly white teeth. A bit of red chewing gum peeked from the corner of her mouth. “Marissa and Taylor?” She snapped her gum and slid her finger down a list of names. After highlighting two in pink, she looked up. “Okay, Marissa, you are in Magnolia Cabin. That’s back over here.” She pointed to the right behind her back. “And Taylor, you’re in Spruce Cabin.”
“I know where it is.” Taylor let go of Marissa’s suitcase and flexed his hand a few times. No way was he dragging that thing to the cabin for her. His gaze snagged on a kid with red hair farther back in the check-in line standing next to a taller kid wearing dark glasses. Brady and Steven. They were in his cabin last year, but he wouldn’t get a friendly greeting from them. Not after all the trouble he gave them. The girl with short blonde hair talking with them was Claire Thompson. No surprise there. The three of them were buddies. Would Claire remember him? Taylor caught her eye and waved, but she barely lifted a hand before turning away. He frowned.
“Who’s that? She’s cute!” Marissa sounded surprised, as if he wouldn’t know any pretty girls.
“Yeah, but she didn’t look too impressed,” Dad said. “I’d say she’s a little out of your league.” He prodded Taylor away from the check-in table. “Show me to your cabin, Hot Shot.”
“Aren’t you going to help Marissa with her suitcase?” Anything to keep Dad from accompanying him to the cabin.
Mom moved the suitcase away from the check-in table. “We girls can manage.” She kissed Taylor’s cheek, and gave him a quick hug. “Bye, Honey. Have a good week. We’ll see you on Saturday.” Mom took hold of the suitcase handle. “C’mon, Marissa.”
Dad urged Taylor forward. “Let’s go.”
Taylor yanked his bag behind him, using his chin-length brown hair to cover the scowl on his face. Last year, Mom had brought him to camp while Dad stayed home with Marissa. But with both of them coming to camp this year, Mom talked Dad into coming along for a “family outing.” At least with Marissa here, he wouldn’t have to endure Mom making his bed and hanging up his clothes like last year. He crossed his fingers that no one else would be in the cabin when Dad started spouting his opinions.
They skirted the chapel, walking alongside the windows that looked out over the lake. Dad peered inside. “How often do they make you go to church here?”
“All morning, plus another worship session in the evening.”
“Worship session? You mean like Sunday church?”
Taylor shrugged. “Kinda, but the music’s more like our kind of music.” His roller bag bounced and tipped when they reached the end of the sidewalk.
“You listen to what the preacher says?”
“Sometimes.” Taylor righted the bag and tugged on it. The wheels didn’t work so well in the grass.
“Sometimes? If you want your license, you’d better pay attention all the time, y’hear? Your mother and I don’t need another jailbird, like your no-good brother.” Dad whacked the back of Taylor’s head. Not hard, but his wedding ring bit into Taylor’s skull.
“Ow!” Taylor dropped his sleeping bag and rubbed his head. “I’m not Jesse. Okay?”
“We’ll see. You listen to that preacher every time he talks. Do you understand?”
“Okay!” Taylor moved out of ring-shot. Nothing he did would ever convince Dad he wasn’t running in Jesse’s footsteps. His brother, the star player on the school’s football team, could do no wrong. But he’d fooled everyone, including Dad whose dreams of borrowed glory became nightmares when Jesse quit the team, got arrested and sent to prison.
They skirted the giant blue spruce tree that identified the cabin and Taylor climbed the two concrete steps to the front door. The screen door squeaked as they entered and Taylor led the way through the common room, its worn couches and ragged armchairs perfect for teenage boys to lounge on.
Dad let go a low whistle. “Rustic Knoll, huh? Rusty nail is more like it. And we pay good money for this.”
Taylor entered the bunkroom and tossed his sleeping bag onto the first empty bed, shoving his duffle bag underneath. A couple of sleeping bags lay tossed on other bunks but the cabin was empty at the moment. Now, if he could get rid of Dad before anyone else arrived. He dug his hands into his pockets. “This is it. Not much to it.”
The screen door squeaked open and slammed shut. A young man with dark skin and close cut hair unlocked the door to the counselor’s room before glancing in their direction. He strode toward them and extended his hand. “Hi! I’m Harris Franks, your counselor. And you are—”
“Taylor Dixon.” He shook the counselor’s hand, then watched as Harris shook Dad’s hand. Dad liked using his vice grip to test the strength of guys’ handshake. Taylor didn’t see the customary wince, which wasn’t surprising considering Harris’s biceps. When did a counselor get time to work out?
Dad released the counselor’s hand. “You’re here all summer? How much they pay you to live in this dump?”
Harris’s brows popped up and a smile flitted between the corners of his mouth. His gaze flicked from Dad to Taylor and back to Dad. Taylor hung his head, his long bangs falling over his face.
Harris tapped his keys against his thigh. “I don’t do it for the money.”
“Uh-huh. You in college?” Dad eyed Harris who stood half a head taller but only half as wide.
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s your major?”
“I’m in a Biblical Studies program, planning to enter the ministry.”
“Gonna be a pastor?” Dad grunted. “Good for you. Maybe some of it’ll rub off on Taylor this week. Keep your eye on him. He likes to get into trouble.”
Taylor peeked at Harris through strands of brown hair.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Dixon. I’m sure Taylor and I will get along fine.” Harris stepped between them and gently guided Dad toward the door. “If we do have any problems, how do you suggest I discipline Taylor?”
“Well now, I’m not one for smackin’ kids around…” Dad’s voice trailed off as they exited the cabin.
Except for vise grips and brain thumps. And the verbal smackdowns. Those hurt most.
“Taylor?” Dad called from the front steps. “You keep an eye on your sister this week.”
“Yeah, I know.” The Princess at camp. This was going to be a royal pain.
 

Order Now!

<< Go Back