Trent the instigator had done this. The thought seemed crazy considering the way he had acted earlier.
"Hiding out, or contemplating death by clay?" Amy teased, coming into the room.
"Ha, an hour ago, I would have said both, but now...," I said, smiling crookedly at her.
"Hot damn, I mean, hot dog. It went well?" she asked with sparkling eyes.
"Not at first. I literally thought I was in hell, but one of the campers and Rick helped me pull it together," I said, linking my arm through hers as we headed out of the room toward the dining area.
"Really? Who?" she asked.
"Aw, Quinn. That kid is freaking awesome," she said affectionately as she headed to the kitchen to grab the overflowing serving bowls for all the tables.
"He really is," I answered, juggling two heaping bowls of french fries. "He talks like an adult, but looks way younger than the other guys."
"He is," she said, balancing a glass pitcher of lemonade and a stack of glasses in her hands.
"Really?" I asked, heading back to the kitchen for more fries.
"Yeah, he's only twelve. Rick moved him up to the Eagle cabin last year."
"Seriously? The older guys didn't mind?" I asked skeptically.
"Nah, he could shame anyone with his sophisticated speech. Plus, they pretty much treat him like a mascot anyway."
"Is that why Rick moved him to the Eagle cabin?" I asked, confused at the wisdom of pulling Quinn from his own age group.
"Not really," she hem-hawed, looking uncomfortable.
"Amy, seriously, you're not going to hold out on me are you?" I asked, intrigued by her sudden secretiveness.
"I just hate being a gossip on something like this," she said quietly, juggling a platter of corn dogs.
I raised my eyebrows at her since we'd pretty much done nothing but exchange tidbits on everyone since I got here.
"Okay, I was trying to turn over a new leaf, especially when it comes to Quinnie. We all sort of love him here. Anyway, Rick moved him because he has ferocious night terrors and it was freaking out the younger kids."
"Night terrors?" I asked, confused over the term.
"Yeah, freaky dreams that make him wake up screaming like the hounds of hell are after him. Rick researched it a lot when Quinn first got here last summer and it's not all that rare. Anything can trigger them, but we're all pretty sure his stem from his asshole father. And no, I'm not apologizing for that one because I'm pretty sure Louise would agree with me," she said with venom in her voice.
"What would I agree with?" Louise asked, coming up from behind and startling us both.
"Quinnie’s father," Amy said, grabbing another pitcher of lemonade while I grabbed the cups.
"You mean, the prick asshole," Louise said with the same venom as Amy.
"Yep, that'd be the one," Amy said, shooting me a smile despite the heavy topic.
"Why, what'd he do?" I asked, delivering the stack of cups to the Raven table before heading toward our own table.
"He set him on fire," she said, dropping in a heap in the chair next to me.
"What?" I screeched. Bile rose up my throat as I recalled the scars on the backs of his hands and his words about always being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Shhhhhhhhh," Amy hissed as several people turned our way.