Girl on the Run (14 page)

S
pencer and I had only been running together for a few days, but we'd already slipped into a comfortable routine. He would wake first and pick up the snack from the kitchen, then after we ate, we'd take off for the trail into the woods. I always began the jog by talking about the things I knew best: running and Jesse Owens.

“You know,” I said, “his name was actually James Cleveland Owens, but everybody called him J.C. When he started a new school in grade nine, the teacher asked for his name, and he said J.C. Owens, but she misheard him and wrote down Jesse Owens, and it stuck.”

“Kind of like your name,” he panted.

“I'm named after him.”

“Yeah, I know that, I'm not a total idiot. I mean he started out with initials, and ended up with a first name. And you have his first name, but we call you by your initials.”

“Huh.”

“And,” he continued, “his nickname is the same as your initials.”

I was dumbfounded. “I've never noticed that before.”

Spencer snickered. “Well, maybe that's because you're a dork.”

I started to run faster. I could hear him struggling to keep up and that made me race even harder. Soon the wind was the only thing around me. I kept my eyes on the top of the hiking trail. My lungs burned and I knew I was pushing it, but I couldn't let him mouth off too much. When I reached the top, I did a little victory dance.

“Beat that, dork!” I hollered.

Only my echo answered. I caught my breath then called out again, “Beat that, dork!”

A woodpecker tapped on a tree, breaking the silence. A chill ran through me as the familiarity of the scene screamed from my memory.

“Spencer!” I ran back down the trail. It was so twisted I couldn't see more than ten feet in front of me.
He's only fallen behind
, I kept telling myself. Then I saw him on the ground, unmoving, his leg at an unusual angle.

“Spencer!” I gently shook his shoulders. “Are you okay? Wake up! Wake up!”

It wasn't a broken bone I was worried about. My shaking fingers found his pulse. I brought my cheek to his face, hoping for breathing. I counted to five, silently praying. My plea was answered…with a loud belch in my ear.

“Beat that!” he laughed.

I pushed away and sat on the ground, pressed up against a tree, hugging my knees. I started to shake and couldn't stop.

Spencer's laughter quieted. “Sorry,” he said.

“It's my fault,” I said. “This was a bad idea. I shouldn't be running.”

“Are you okay? You look like you might be sick.”

Beyond Spencer, pale and covered in dirt, I saw Dad's body lying on the trail, face down. “Oh god.”

“Should I get someone?” He sounded far away.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but that damn woodpecker kept tapping.

“J.J.?”

“I'll be all right.” I put my head between my knees and breathed deeply, fighting the approaching blackness.

“I'll get Kirk.”

“No.” I put my hand up. “Give me a few minutes.”

He sat beside me until I could open my eyes without screaming. The woodpecker finally moved on. Spencer's voice was soft. “How fast did Jesse Owens run the two-hundred-metre dash in the Olympics?” he asked.

I stared at the ground. “Twenty-point-seven seconds.”

“Did he win?”

“He earned a gold medal and a new Olympic record.”

I raised my head and glanced at the trail.

Empty. No bodies.

We walked back to the Cabin 4A without saying anything. I lay down on my bed and listened to the soft whispers of the boys as they woke up. I slipped off my runners and put them back in the side pocket of my duffel bag—for good.

I was like a zombie for archery and tug-of-war. The guys stayed quiet, only whispering among themselves, sneaking glances my way. I dressed for lunch in a long-sleeved sweatshirt, my damp hair pulled loosely into a bun. I had stayed in the hot shower until the water ran cold, but I was still chilled from this morning.

Spencer, I guessed, had given the other boys the 411 on my odd behaviour. By the time the cupettes had regurgitated the story, the main hall was full of people convinced I had been attacked by a bear.

No one at my table was laughing. My seafood chowder grew cold. The truth was I really scared the hell out of Spencer and myself. The tray of food lay in front of me, untouched.

Kirk appeared with his own tray. “You're looking pretty good for someone who wrestled a cougar,” he said.

“It was a bear,” I said.

“Move, please.” He tapped Scotty on the shoulder making him slide over. “What happened?” he asked, sitting across from me.

“Um…I went out too fast, and when I ran back for Spencer, I must have twisted my ankle and I got a little light-headed.”

Kirk kept staring at me, waiting for me to continue. “You're all right now?”

No.

“Yup.”

Spencer piped up. “J.J., you can't say that; it makes you sound like a loser.” He looked at Kirk. “I got mad because she wanted to prove how amazing she is, so to scare her, I pretended to be dead.”

“You arsehole,” Scotty interrupted suddenly.

“Scotty!” Kirk raised his voice.

“It doesn't matter,” I said. “It's over.”

“Yeah.” Spencer stretched out his arms, and folded his hands behind his head. “New run tomorrow, and guess who's going to be the big loser? And I don't mean in the usual way, J.J.”

“I'm not running anymore,” I told him. “It's over.”

He sat forward and leaned in closer. “What?”

I pushed a wet strand of hair back into my bun. “I can't do it.”

“I was kidding about passing you,” he said. “God, you're so competitive.”

I pulled the sleeve of my sweatshirt over my hands. I was so cold. “No,” I said.

Spencer put his hands out palms up. “Okay, look, you can talk the whole time. This is all I hear when we run anyway. Jesse Owens, blah blah blah…my mom is the best…Grandma can breakdance…my dad…”

“Shut up!” I said. A few of the tables around us had gone quiet. I stared down at my tray, fighting the sting of tears. “I'm not saying
you
can't run.”

“That's great, thanks. I can't wait to go running at dawn by myself.”

Duff signed quickly.

“Oh, shut up!” Spencer answered back. “You're good at everything.”

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“You really suck, you know,” Spencer said.

Kirk stood up and pointed at the door. “You're gone,” he told Spencer. “Stay in your cabin until I get you.” Kirk looked back at me, but I pushed back the bench and left the hall. No point in staying where I'm not wanted.

I spent the rest of the afternoon playing soccer with Scotty and the twins. Lacey was on my team, and I did my best to kick the ball straight to her head. The constant exercise kept my mind occupied and was proving to be the best thing for me.

Kirk had come to watch the last half of the soccer match and he brought Spencer, who laced up and took to the field. He
was
fast. With an unexpected surge of guilt, I noticed he was wearing new runners—the kind I had recommended. His dad must have had them shipped express delivery.

After the game, everyone began to file down through the trails to the beach. I lagged behind, hoping to talk with Kirk.

“Hey,” I said, falling in step with him.

“How are you feeling?” I watched the pathway, careful to avoid looking at the spot where I had almost passed out. Kirk slowed down his pace, staying beside me.

“Um…better. I'm sorry about lunch. I should have had that talk with Spencer privately. I didn't realize how much he was enjoying the running.”

“It's okay,” he said. “I think he's over it now.”

We stayed quiet for the rest of the trip down. We were among the last to leave the woods. I was glad to be back in the sunshine. “Thanks for bringing him to the game.”

“Sure,” he laughed. “You're very apologetic this evening.”

“It's a habit of mine, from screwing up all time.”

He wrinkled up his nose and laughed at me. “Is this going to carry over to the dance tonight?”

“I'm not sure,” I said.

Lacey called out to Kirk, “Over here!” She was sitting on one of the overturned kayaks, looking beach party perfect.

The smile on his face was automatic. “See you later, Just Jesse,” he said, already jogging toward her.

I skipped supper, prepared to keep a low profile for the rest of the evening from everyone, including Kirk and certainly from Spencer. If he put an eel in my bed after I did nothing, what's he going to do when he's really pissed? Forgetting about the dance seemed like a good idea for a lot of reasons.

I sat on the porch steps in what Chloe claims is my worst outfit ever: soccer shorts and a big baggy T-shirt. Without warning I was hit by a wall of spice and talcum powder.

Spencer and Scotty pushed through the screen door and stood on the porch. Plaid shorts and polo shirts were apparently the dress code for this evening. Unfortunately, I was downwind from them. “Um…guys, body spray is for
after
showering, not instead of.”

Scotty looked at my outfit. “Is that what you're wearing?” he asked.

“I'm not going.”

“Don't be stupid,” Spencer said. “You have to go.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “There's a bucket of pig's blood rigged with a macramé rope to fall on me tonight.”

He put a hand to his chest as if shocked. “That's so unoriginal,” he said. “Although…”

“Get going.” I waved them on.

They scrambled down the stairs like a walking Ralph Lauren ad. Scotty stopped and called back, “You have to come, J.J.”

For the next half hour, I sat on my bed, staring at the bag labelled DANCE. The music trailed over from the main hall. Originally, I had planned on spending the evening safely tucked in my bed, with the lights off, hoping to forget today ever happened. But I imaged sending an email to Chloe about how I chickened out. I knew what she would say.
“What would Old Jesse do?”

Looking in the mirror, I gauged the time and effort it would take to get ready. My hair had dried to its usual waves. Hopefully my outfit would make up for my lack of finesse with hair products. Feeling like Cinderella standing in her ripped dress beside the pumpkin patch, I opened the bag.

T
he main hall wasn't so much decorated as empty. The usual row of tables and benches had been moved to the side, with baskets of chips and party mix placed every few feet. The lights were down and the music was thumping. The dance floor was mainly full of girls, with the boys looking on sheepishly from the side.

Hesitating at the doorway, I adjusted the patterned silk headband and smoothed out the pale yellow halter top dress, wishing I had worn a sweater and opted for the ballet flats. Wearing Chloe's wedge sandals guaranteed I was the tallest girl in the room.

My own warriors of puberty were clumped in their usual corner. I had an odd sense of pride; they were probably the cutest bunch in the room. I spotted Alicia and she waved me over to her table.

“Hey!” she shouted over the music. “I heard you were attacked by bees this morning.”

“Um…yeah.”

“Every summer I worry that I'm going to miss television and movies and stuff, but having you here this year has been more entertaining than I can remember,” she laughed. “You're a hot shit, Jesse. I'm glad you're around.”

“Thanks.” I looked down at my Jazzy bracelet and smiled.

“Speaking of hot,” she said.

Dressed in a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of faded jeans, Kirk strolled in with his hands in his pockets, looking like he had just happened upon the event. I hated how he managed the ‘scruffy yet sexy' look so perfectly.

“Damn,” Alicia said.

No kidding.

“Well, go ask him to dance,” I said.

“Please,” she grinned. “I have a boyfriend back home.”

“I bet you miss him.”

“More than I thought I would,” she nodded. “I wish I was going back the end of the July. I signed up for the whole summer thinking of all the easy cash I'd make.” She slouched her shoulders and sighed. “I asked Susan if it was possible to leave early. She said she's looking for a replacement, but it's kind of short notice, I guess.” She reached for a handful of potato chips from a bowl on the table. “What about you?”

“I'm not sure,” I said. “I'm just taking it one prank at a time.”

The gloominess lifted slightly, and Alicia laughed.

But silently I wondered if Cabin 4A and I would survive the whole summer. Would I be leaving camp earlier than planned? I was surprised to find the thought depressed me.

“I'd love to go home early,” Alicia said again. She stared at the potato chip in her hand.

I figured Alicia was deep in some memory of her boyfriend so I let the conversation fade out. Besides, I wasn't much help in that department.

I turned my attention back to my guys. They had finally eased out of their corner. I almost fell off the bench when I saw Duff dancing with Diana—or was that Liam? I checked the time, and realized I'd been sitting beside the bowl of chips for half an hour.

Then I saw someone almost as pathetic as me—Scotty, sitting by himself. I made my way around the jumping dancers.

“Hey, Scotty,” I yelled over the music. “Do you want to dance?”

He looked terrified. “With you?” he asked.

“Come on,” I pulled him off of his chair and led him to a corner where it was so crowded, no one could tell who was dancing together. Scotty and I were able to fake it enough to look like we actually knew how to dance, sort of.

The dark-haired cutie Scotty had been talking to for the last two weeks waved and smiled at us. Little by little, I moved us closer to where she was dancing with her friends. When the song changed to a slow one, the other cupettes stepped away.

“Now's your chance,” I told him. “She's right there, waiting for you to ask.” I gave him a push then walked into the crowd. When I peeked over a few seconds later they were slow dancing.

I brushed by a few more bodies and bumped into Lewis.

“Hey, gorgeous!” He led me to the middle of the floor and soon we were swaying with the other couples. “I'm making dough for tomorrow morning,” he smiled. “Jesse needs her cinnamon buns.”

I grinned. “You're the best, but I'm worried you're becoming a kitchen slave.”

“The Brasseau sisters let me experiment all I want,” he explained. “As long as I clean up.”

Lewis scanned the room a few times, then he cleared his throat. “So,” he started, “you've danced with Scotty, and me…”

I detected a hint of matchmaking. “Yeah, so?” I asked.

“No one else?”

I snorted and gave him a look. “Like who?”

Lewis and I slowly turned on the spot. I ended up staring right at Kirk. He was leaning against the wall, watching us. I looked away because I wanted him to think his attention didn't matter.

“There's a rumour going around,” Lewis said.

I groaned. “No! I was not attacked by anything in the woods this morning.”

“Attacked?”

“Oh—what are you talking about?”

Lewis leaned back and gave me a serious look. “I heard you're going to finally win the cup.”

“Are you kidding?” I thought I was going to throw up all over Chloe's halter dress. “I'm so sick of hearing about that stupid cup.”

“Sorry.” His quietness was unnerving.

“No, I'm sorry,” I said. “It's been a weird day. I should probably go back to the cabin.”

“You can't, you're too hot to leave early.”

We danced for two more songs, and then he glanced at the swinging door. “See you later,” he said.

“You're leaving me now? But you just got here!”

He held his hands at his sides as if surrendering. “Cinnamon buns, Jesse,” he explained.

I walked back to the table and sat with Alicia. Lacey had joined her as well.

“Don't my girls look great?” Lacey said, smoothing out a flaxen wave behind her ear. “You look nice, Jazzy. I didn't recognize you at first.” She reached out and touched my bracelet.

“Girls are so much sweeter than boys,” she said. I faced the other way so she wouldn't see me roll my eyes. My heart stopped. Kirk was cutting through the crowd, walking straight toward me. I ran a hand through my hair, and glanced to the side, pretending not to see him.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked. He was standing right in front of me, but looking at Lacey.

“Sure,” she said, jumping up.

Someone at the table began to tell a funny story. I smiled and laughed with everyone else, but I felt like I'd hit a brick wall. Stunned, I reached into the bowl and began eating potato chips.

Dill pickle flavoured. Great.

A slow song began, but Lacey didn't return to the table. I snuck a glance and they were still dancing with their arms wrapped around each other, hips swaying side to side.

Ten seconds later, I peeked again. He was leaning down as she whispered in his ear.
Who am I kidding? This contest was over before it started. Kirk the jerk. Kirk the flirt. Kirk the jerk is nothing but a flirt.

But who could blame him? Lacey was all boobs and perfect suntan, with her long blond hair and a gleaming smile. Who wouldn't want to be pressing up against that? Her kisses probably taste like crème caramel.

Oh. My. God.

The world flipped upside down. I pushed myself up and took a few shaky steps.

“Jesse? Are you all right?” I heard Alicia say. I swerved in and out of the couples, keeping my eyes on the swinging door at the front of the room.

Lewis looked up from the counter and frowned. “What's wrong?”

“I think I'm gay!”