A Parthan Summer by Julie Steimle (intellectual books to read TXT) 📕

immediate household.

“Look, I know her better than anybody. This isn’t a trap. This is the real deal. Now have you established the alibi she needs?”

The woman groaned.

“Giisa,” Jeff protested. “This is important. As her alibi is mine. Everyone already knows that we’ve met before. And everyone thinks we met at an Irish military school, because that is what I told them. So, please tell me you’ve got something solid.”

“I’ve got something solid,” his social worker replied, though she glared at him as if she thought he was being foolish. She opened her briefcase and extracted a stack of documents. “A real academy in Ireland, close enough to fit what you described. We’ve even got one guy in a leadership positon there named Kevin who will vouch for a crazy little blonde girl attending there for a short time, as well as some Americans visiting for a couple weeks.”

“Is he one of us, or some Irish guy you paid off?” Jeff asked warily.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Luckily for you, one of us. The school is not very well known and has a high turn-over rate, including with the staff. So they don’t exactly remember all their students. And most of their students are troubled, so this fits perfectly. Also, their headmaster is the kind of man who understands the need for secrecy.”

“That can be useful,” Jeff murmured. “Do we have someone there to pretend to be someone named Arden and Salvar?”

The social worker cringed. “Uh…well, that was tricky. We got a man who is willing to go by the name of Arden for us…  His name sounds like Arden, but is actually something else. But, uh, the name Salvar is a no-go. It sounds too Arrassian—or Spanish, Kevin said. Kevin and that Arden guy intend to say that Zormna is schizophrenic, and imagined most of what happened to her when she was with them.”

Jeff choked on a laugh. “Oh…no. We can’t do that.”

“And why not?” Giisa looked at him indignantly. “I still think she’s playing you. And even if she is not, that Zormna Clendar deserves a little pay back.”

“She deserves nothing of the sort,” Jeff retorted, rolling his eyes to the trees above.

“Do you know how many of our people she arrested?”

“She was only doing her duty,” Jeff responded, sighing.

“She even got you locked in prison—in case you forgot,” she snapped. Then she stared at him. “You were beaten to almost an inch of your life. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you remember?”

Jeff sighed heavily. “She isn’t the one that—”

“If she hadn’t caught you, it would not have happened,” she said. “I remember how long it took for you to recover. All those scars are her fault.”

Meeting her gaze, Jeff replied with pain, “Giisa. This isn’t about that. And she didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Hah!” Giisa’s face flushed. “All the same. This is her alibi. Let her take it or leave it! You yourself said she had relative around here that was assume to be crazy. Insanity like that can be genetic.”

Jeff groaned. “She is not going to like this.”

“I don’t care. She doesn’t deserve more.”

A heavy dinner bell sounded down below.

“It’s lunch time,” he murmured. “She should be at the main lodge by now.”

“Ok.” Giisa nodded. “Let’s go. Then I can wipe my hands of this.”

He shook his head and sighed.

Though it was against her better judgment, his comrade in the rebellion of Arras and pretended social worker reluctantly followed him down the hill, though she muttered under her breath the entire way. “You know…your ‘father’ and ‘mother’ in Chicago have been investigated by the FBI because of her.”

“I am really sorry about that…” Jeff said.

“She’s the one who should be sorry,” Giisa said. “It should have been a quiet job for them posing as your family.”

“They knew the risks,” Jeff muttered, trying to keep his voice low so no one would overhear. “And they are no longer being watched, right?”

“All the same,” Giisa ground out, “She has a lot of payback coming to her. She deserves a little comeuppance.”

Jeff decided not to argue anymore. His social worker would not see it his way, no matter what he said. 

They halted at the lodge entrance with trepidation. Jeff peeked through the large doorway, looking left then right at the crowd there. Most of the campers had already gotten their food, so the lines were small. In the back of his head he wondered how long lunch had been going and would there be any food left for him. That was when he spotted Zormna. She sat at a long table on the south end near the large stone fireplace. Joy was next to her, which made him smile. He liked that Joy had befriended Zormna so readily. He could feel Zormna’s loneliness at times. It was as painful as a razor, and Joy’s friendship eased that so much. But Michelle and the other Pennington cheerleaders were saying something that was making Zormna’s face red.

Jeff whistled to get her attention.

Half the hall of heads turned to look—all except Zormna’s. His shoulders sagged. He moaned, He forgot that she was the kind of girl you had to be direct with.

“Zormna!” He called over the din.

Her head popped up from the ‘conversation’ she was having with Stacey. Her eyes scanned the lodge. Almost immediately, she spotted Jeff in the doorway.

He waved for her to come out to talk.

Zormna rose a little from her seat, her eyes turning to his social worker, her mind quickly working out what was going on. She climbed out from the bench to go to him.

Jennifer McCabe nudged Zormna with her elbow, winking and smiling. Stacey giggled, making kissing noises. Michelle Clay smiled widely as the other girls on the cheer team burst into giggling fits. Though Joy, he noticed, sighed with dismay.

“Go on, Zormna. Lover-boy is calling,” Michelle said with an obvious simper.

Lover-boy? Jeff raised his eyebrows.

“Shut up!” Zormna scowled at her, looking inclined to kick the head cheerleader in the head.

Getting away from the table, Zormna picked her way through the dining crowd toward the entrance where Jeff waited for her. And she almost made it to the door. But her cabin counselor stepped up, stopping her from prematurely leaving. “Zormna, you need to wait in the hall until lunch is over. We have announcements.”

Rolling her eyes, Zormna shot Jeff a look. She turned to go back to her table.

“Zormna? Where are you going?” His voice echoed above the clamor. And more heads turned.

This time the counselor turned to look at Jeff. Seeing him at the door, she frowned with recognition.  

“Young man, where is your cabin group? You should be with your cabin group.” She beckoned him inside until her eyes set on the social worker at Jeff’s side, whose business-like demeanor drew her curiosity.

“Well, my—”

Zormna’s counselor walked past him to face the non-camp authority. “And who are you?”

Zormna walked almost on the heels of her camp counselor, also peering at the social worker whose eyes had fixed sharply on Zormna. Giisa was raking in Zormna’s obvious ethnicity wrapped in Pennington casual sportswear. She seemed to take personal insult to it.

 “I’m Mrs. Guisse.” Giisa extended her hand to the counselor with the best business-like American accent she could muster. It was almost flawless. “Mr. Streigle’s social worker.”

“Miss Betiford,” Zormna said, quickly stepping up. “She’s here for me.”

“What?”

“I told you about my situation,” Zormna said. “And you didn’t believe me. She’s also my social worker.”

The camp counselor paled. Drawing in a breath, she whispered, “You mean, the whole thing about—”

“Yes. My great aunt being dead,” Zormna said. “Not that other weird nonsense I said after that.”

“What other weird nonsense?” Jeff raised his eyebrows at her.

Zormna waved it off.

“All right,” Miss Betiford stepped back, still looking pale. “But only for a moment. You both should hurry back, or you’ll miss the program.”

Zormna politely nodded with a smile that gave the impression she was an obedient child, and she turned out the door.

Miss Betiford watched her though, noticing how Zormna took a position on the other side of Mrs. Guisse rather than next to the boy she had said she disliked so much.

Zormna and Jeff walked a good distance from the lodge into the gravel parking lot, going near the busses. The social worker followed slowly, though from behind no one noticed her apprehension. When Zormna pivoted around to face the woman, she was surprised to find the social worker white with indignation.

To Jeff, Zormna asked, “So, what exactly did you want to talk about?”

Jeff gave an approving smile, seeing that she was going to cooperate, and extended an arm to the social worker. “This is Giisa. And she has brought something that will help with your problem. We just need you to sign a few documents that will go back to an Irish private school that will claim you as a student.” 

“What?” Zormna made a face. “Come on, Jafarr. The FBI are not going to believe that. They already know the truth.”

“Not the whole truth,” Jeff said. “If we can establish a middle place at least, an Irish link between you and me, it will—”

“Oh…I get it.” Zormna nodded, turning to Giisa. “Ok. I’ll sign whatever. Your alibi needs to be protected.” Though, she rolled her eyes.

“It is to keep…” He peeked at Giisa as the woman silently drew out the documents. “…us all safe.”

Nodding silently, Zormna took out a pen. Yet she hesitated over the documents when she had them in her hand. She pulled her pen back from the paper. “But I didn’t learn how to write in English until I got here.”

Giisa choked. She looked to Jafarr. “You’re joking.”

Zormna shook her head. “I can’t sign any of this. …Unless you want me to forge something for you, like a parent’s signature or something.”

“I totally forgot.” Jeff stroked his forehead. “I didn’t crash into you until after you learned to read.” He then looked to Giisa. “Ok, then we just need to discuss and memorize the name of the schools and such for future reference.”

Giisa chuckled. “Sure.”

She grabbed back and put away the documents. Staring Zormna squarely in the eye, she said, “Your hometown was originally Dublin, and your parents died in a fire—”

“What? I’m not saying that. They did not die in a fire,” Zormna said, peeking once to Jeff who shook his head to say he had not told Giisa her entire story.

“They died in a fire,” Giisa said again, “Which you survived—”

“Scar-less?” Zormna shook her head angrily. “No. My parents were murdered. The FBI already know this.”

“They know you believe this,” Giisa replied tersely. “Your school is going to say that you invented your imaginary past and you were only there for two years. Your parents died in a fire, and a policeman brought you to the school.”

Zormna’s mouth opened in protest. “Imaginary past?”

“You need a viable alibi,” Giisa replied vindictively. “And you already have a famous crazy aunt—”

“Great aunt,” Zormna corrected sharply. “And she wasn’t actually crazy.”

“The FBI don’t know that.”

“I think they actually do,” Zormna retorted with bite. “You don’t know enough to make that statement.”

“I know enough about you to know you are not to be trusted,” Giisa said.

Zormna narrowed her eyes at the woman. “Oh, because my former duty was to shut down people like you here on Partha?”

“Because you put a lot of people in prison!” Giisa snapped. “A lot of good people!”

Zormna stepped back from her, looking exasperatedly to Jeff.

“And I don’t believe you are defecting to the rebellion as he says,” Giisa growled.

“That’s what you told her?” Zormna whispered.

Jeff looked skyward, whispering back, “I wasn’t going to tell her everything.”

“Why are you whispering?” Giisa approached them, noticing how they truly were conspiring together. It was unnerving actually, as they looked for a second like opposite chess pieces. “What’s really going on?”

Huffing, Jeff replied, “Look, Giisa. The whole schizophrenic thing just won’t work.”

“Schizophrenic?” Zormna’s jaw dropped. “I am not schizophrenic!”

Ignoring her, the woman said, “Why do you think it won’t work?”

“Because,” Jeff said, “her great