"Casey?" Jillian Winthrop popped up from her assigned seat at the end of the sixth-graders table and waved, gesturing at the aisle seats where the adults sat for meals.
Still not used to being considered one of the adults, Casey mused silently. She grinned. Her grin got wider when Jillian and some of the other girls gestured like they were directing an airplane on the runway.
The campers were assigned seats, but the staff rotated among the tables. The theory was to make it easier for the girls to get to know the activity leaders one-on-one at meals. It also gave the counselors a break from the cabins to which they were assigned.
"Hurry!" Glynnys Chalmers half-slid out of her seat and held out her hand as if she would pull Casey into the adult's chair at the table. The rules were that once the third gong had sounded in the dining hall, the campers were not allowed to leave their seats except to use the restroom. Standing up wasn't "leaving the seat," but stepping away from it was.
"What's the hurry?" Casey said, stepping up to her chair.The girls' eyes got wide, in perfect synchronization, and they glanced past her. Casey swore she felt a chill in the air as she turned and looked over her shoulder. Brandy stood two tables away, fists jammed into her hips, her plastic surgery-refined nostrils flaring, sparks in her eyes. Casey idly wondered if constant flaring of nostrils would undo that bit of expensive sculpting. She had heard from no less than six girls in the last two weeks, all of them related to Brandy in one form or another, that she used to have a nose an inch longer and an inch wider, with a pronounced hook. Some of the boys in their massive, wealthy, influential clan were taking bets that by the time she finished with law school, Brandy would have had more surgeries than Michael Jackson.