Girl on the Run (23 page)

I
'm not sure how long I sat on Kirk's unmade bed, staring at the window across from me. But time was moving forward, the routine of morning life at camp had begun. The random voices of kids echoed across the grounds, canoes were being put in the water, a game of blindfolded tag had started, and there was the distinct sound of flapping sails. My head began to throb as I slowly emerged from my daze.

I looked around Kirk's room. A small desk under the window was covered in papers and magazines. A bowl of what looked like potato chip crumbs was on the floor by the bed. The drawers under his bed stuck out a bit, stuffed with T-shirts and socks.

Draped over a chair across from me was the shirt he'd worn the night we kissed. I wiggled my fingers, remembering how I'd grabbed the fabric. Then Spencer had interrupted us.

“Oh god,” I whispered, my voice rough. It hurt to speak. I let my head fall into my hands. “Please let him be okay.”

Footsteps thumped on the porch. My head whipped up as the door opened. Kirk came in with two steaming mugs. “Sorry,” he said, pushing the door closed with his elbow. “I had to have a talk with the guys.” I felt a little thrill that he was apologizing for leaving me. He walked toward the bed, sweeping the pile of wet towels on the floor to the side with his foot.

“I thought you could use something warm,” he said, handing me one of the mugs. I wrapped my cold fingers around the mug and inhaled.

My good friend vanilla chai.

He pulled the chair up to the bed and sat down, watching me over the rim of his cup.

I took a few sips. The tea slipped down my throat, soothing and warm. I rested the mug on my knee, then slowly met his eyes. I shook my head. “He can't swim!” I said. My voice raised at the end like a question. It made no sense. “How is that possible?”

Kirk gave me a worried look, then his expression softened. He let out a long sigh and began to explain what happened. “Spencer confessed to Scotty and the twins last night,” he said. His voice was level and calm. “He convinced the guys to teach him while everyone else was asleep. You almost caught them, actually. They hid while you ran past.”

I remembered the grass had been beaten down to the dock, but I was too pissed at the world to notice what it might mean. My stomach dropped. Lewis was right—I
had
been playing the victim. I was so wrapped up in my own problems, I didn't see what should have been obvious. “Why didn't he tell me?” I asked.

“He was embarrassed and beginning to panic. Water safety with Alicia was starting this week, and Lacey wasn't going to help him ditch anymore.”

I almost choked on my tea. “Lacey was helping him?” I actually cringed when I said her name.

Kirk rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and looked unconvinced. “Yeah, I'm not sure on that one. The guys were vague on the details. All they knew was that Lacey and Spencer had some kind of deal.”

“Deal?” This was so twisted. My head started to throb again. “Well…what does she say?” I couldn't say her name, my shock was turning into hate, quickly.

Kirk read my expression and leaned back in the chair. “She's in Susan's office,” he said. I couldn't tell if he was upset about that or not. “I'll talk to the guys again, but not right away. They're still shaken up. I mean, Duff had to watch it all.” There was a pause. “And if you hadn't come along, even Scotty…” his voice caught. Embarrassed, he looked away, and I did the same.

I stared down into the tea, a distorted reflection of my face wobbling back up at me. Kirk reached out and put his hand over my fingers. “You're still shivering.” He put my drink on the table beside the bed. “Get under the covers,” he said, pulling back the blanket. “You need to warm up.” I let him tuck me into his bed. The fog I'd been in slowly started to lift. I was lying in his bed—
his bed!
A place he might have been naked in just hours ago.

Kirk brought the covers up to my chin. He smoothed his hand over my arm, slowly, deliberately. I lay there quietly, watching him watching me. His expression started a warm glow inside me. But instead of the usual racing pulse I felt when he looked at me, this time I was calm. I knew that I could trust him…with anything. After all, he'd pulled me out of the lake, clinging to an unconscious kid. I wasn't exactly sure how he felt about me, and what I had to say may change everything, but I realized the time had come to finally tell someone the truth.

“It's my fault,” I whispered.

Kirk shook his head, misunderstanding. “There were a lot of factors leading up to today, but the blame doesn't lie with you.” His voice was so gentle it broke my heart. “Like I said, I'll talk with the guys later, but don't worry, I don't think there was anything you could have done.”

I took a deep breath, ready to confess. “I mean my dad.”

He moved closer and studied my face for a few seconds. His eyes grew large, finally making the connection. “But the article said he had a heart attack.”

“He was running…with me.”

Kirk reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he said.

“I made him go,” I said. “He forgot his bike, and I should have let him go back and get it. Or when the cell phone wasn't charged, I should have taken mine!” My voice was rising. “Or when he kept having pain in his arm, I should have taken him to emergency, I should have done…something.” I sat up, unable to hold back my sobs. “He died because I was so selfish I wanted to run for a stupid chance at a scholarship that I don't even need until next year!”

He leaned close, bringing his face inches from mine, his stare intense. “Your dad died because his heart stopped,” he said. “Not because of anything you did.”

My tears kept coming. I covered my face, ashamed. I'd never mentioned my true feelings to anyone, not to Chloe, not even to Grandma. But here I was, spilling my greatest sin to Kirk. The bed sagged under his weight. I turned and buried my face in his chest. His arms wrapped around me as I continued to cry.

We stayed like that, listening to me let out a string of great rolling sobs followed by a few gasps of air. I'd sniff for a bit then start all over again. It was a full-fledged ugly cry.

Unlike in my bedroom at home, I could be as loud as I wanted. I hadn't realized how much I had been holding back. The whole time Kirk stayed quiet, rubbing my back, and handing me a Kleenex when I got too slobbery.

I wasn't embarrassed. After all the times he'd witnessed my humiliation, being with him when I was at my most vulnerable seemed…just right. There was no pretending. I was content to be myself, even if that meant being a goobery mess.

When I was finished, his shirt was wet.

“Sorry,” I sniffed.

He brushed a finger across my cheek, wiping away the last tear. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Totally exhausted.” I gave him half a smile. “But better, thanks.”

Kirk was still holding me close. His milk chocolate eyes stared into mine and my heart responded with its usual ‘Ode to Kirk' beat. He hadn't smiled back and I worried what he must be thinking. He seemed to read my mind. “It's not your fault,” he said. Then he nodded to the pillow. “You need to get some rest.”

He stood up, taking his body heat with him. My shoulder missed the weight of his arm. I reached for his hand. “Please stay,” I asked. “I don't want to be alone.”

I could see the various emotions play across his face, trying to decide. Finally he nodded. I put my head on the pillow and turned on my side. Kirk lay down on top of the covers, and then wrapped his arm around my waist, tucking in close.

I was warm. I was safe.

Slowly, his hand found mine and we linked fingers. I closed my eyes and felt the heaviness of approaching sleep. Kirk breathed against my wet hair. “It was never your fault,” he whispered.

T
he afternoon sun streamed through the windows. I squinted at the alarm clock on the bedside table and realized I'd been asleep for six hours. I rubbed my eyes and pushed myself up in bed and sat crossed legged under the covers. Kirk had left. This observation had a profoundly depressing effect on me. The door creaked open.

“Hey, you're up.” Her voice was animated—and totally fake.

“What is it?” I asked, alerted by her strained smiled. “Is Spencer okay?” I suddenly had visions of the ambulance breaking down on the way to the hospital or Spencer choking on a clump of eelgrass vomit.

“He'll be okay,” Lacey said. “At least that's the update we got a few hours ago.” She walked in like she owned the place. I was relieved to hear about Spencer, but then I instantly deflated, realizing she'd probably spent a lot of time in Kirk's cabin, maybe even in his bed—which I now occupied.

“Why are you here?” I asked, wondering if she was staking claim to Kirk's bed.

My tone tipped her off. Her forced smile dropped away. She pressed her lips together like she was silently rallying herself. “I, um…that is.” She shifted her weight a few times and stammered a bit more. A nervous beauty queen was the last thing I needed right now. I put a finger to my throbbing temple, trying to massage away the ache.

She shuffled her pink flip-flops toward the bed, then sat in Kirk's chair. She looked down at the potato chip crumbs and wrinkled her nose. I noticed she was holding a dish. She followed my gaze and looked surprised, like she'd forgotten she was carrying it. She smiled and thrust the bowl me.

A spoon was sticking out. Guardedly I peeked inside. I was breathless. “Is that what I think it is?” I asked.

Lacey gave me a half smile. “Since this is technically your first meal of the day, it still counts as breakfast.” I took the bowl from her, staring at the delicious treat. She dropped her voice like she was telling me a juicy secret. “This is Lewis's tenth attempt. I've never heard him swear so much; he's such a perfectionist.”

I looked up at her. “Lewis?” I asked. My stomach twisted. We'd had such an ugly fight this morning.

Lacey nodded encouragingly. “He was going to bring it up himself, but—”

“But he doesn't want to see me,” I finished.

She fidgeted with the hem of her pink tennis skirt. “He wasn't sure how upset you'd still be,” she said. “You have a reputation for losing it. He said you guys had a fight earlier. Are you dating now or something?”

I ignored her dig and carved out a spoonful and raised it to my lips, my mouth already watering. “I can't believe he made me deep fried ice cream.” The vanilla and crunchy brown sugar coating sent a glucose rush to my brain. Lacey literally sat on the edge of the chair, waiting for my reaction.

I didn't stop until the bowl was almost empty. “Wow,” I finally said, licking the end of the spoon. My headache was gone, my stomach didn't feel so knotted up anymore, and there was a lightness in my chest. It wasn't so much the treat, but the fact that Lewis had made it for me. I hope this meant we could still be friends.

“Good?” she asked, in that fake happy voice of hers.

“Of course it's good,” I said. “It's ice cream and sugar and it's cooked in grease.”

“I haven't had ice cream in four years.”

I looked at her like she was crazy. “Are you allergic or something?”

She clutched her upper thigh. “No, stupid. Bikini competitions.”

Once again, she left me speechless. Lacey stood up and started shuffling the papers on Kirk's desk, putting them in neat piles. “I don't know how he can live like this,” she giggled, but it sounded too loud. I watched as she picked up the wet towels and hung them on the porch railing. She came back in and looked down at me, her hands folded in front of her. It was obvious she wanted me out of her spot.

I purposely made slow scraping sounds on the dish, getting every last bit of ice cream. She sat down, and started to play with her hem again. Then she fixed her headband, and after that adjustment, it was back to the hem again. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer.

“I have to tell you something,” she practically shouted.

“I know,” I said. “I'm in your spot.”

She scrunched up her face, which I thought was a weird reaction. Then she waved her hands in the air. “No,” she said. “I…I…” The stammer started again; she was clearly uncomfortable.

“For frig's sake, Lacey,” I said. “I know you had some stupid deal with Spencer.” I didn't know for sure but I thought I'd fake her out, maybe get her to admit something.

She stared down at her lap, clicking her fingernails together. “A stupid deal that almost got him killed,” she said.

My mouth hung open. I totally wasn't expecting that. When Lacey lifted her gaze, her usual mask of perfection had melted away. I noticed the extra makeup she had used under her eyes. She looked guilty and exhausted—just like me. “When I overheard your mixed up assignment during registration,” she said, “I came up with a plan to get Ben up here. I encouraged Spencer to try and make you want to quit, and in return for this favour, I had to help him avoid any activity to do with the lake.”

“Did you know he couldn't swim?”

Her eyes flashed at me. “No,” she said adamantly. “Of course not. I just wanted you to quit.”

This was too surreal. “Because of Ben?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

My ears grew warm remembering my midnight stroll. No wonder she hated me. After all her evil planning, I ended up stealing her guy. We finally looked at each other. “I had hoped he was looking for his old job back,” she continued. “With his experience and Susan freaking out from Mr. Baxter breathing down her neck…”

“Mr. Baxter?” I interrupted.

“Spencer's dad.”

“Oh.” The ice cream in my stomach threatened to come up.

“Anyway,” she continued, “the pressure was on, and since Kirk knew the only alternative was you being fired, at my urging he called Ben and tried to get him up here as fast as possible.”

I saw everything in a new light. Kirk, it seemed, had actually been trying to save my job. I felt a little fluttering of hope. “What's going to happen now?” I asked.

Lacey opened her mouth to say something, then she shut it and only shook her head. “That's up to Susan,” she said. “I might lose my job.” Her voice quivered at the end. “Regardless, she's ordered me to apologize to everyone involved.” She stood up and cleared her throat. And I'm not entirely sure, but I think she was standing in a ballet pose. Oh my god, everything was a production with her.

“I'm sorry, Jesse,” she said. It was well rehearsed; she was certainly prepared.

I was unconvinced, and I wanted to see her suffer. “I don't understand why you would do all this for Ben,” I said. “You guys broke up. And he's not even a very good kisser.”

Lacey made a dainty noise at the back of her throat and flicked her ponytail. “Okay,” she said. “I guess I deserved that. But,” she hesitated, then sized me up, taking in my messy hair and Kirk's baggy clothes. She slouched down on the chair again, looking pained. “When Ben and I broke up, I didn't think I was ever going to be happy again. I stupidly thought if we had a summer together here like last year, he'd fall in love with me again.” I could tell she was completely serious. “Haven't you loved someone so much you felt totally lost without them?” she asked me. “Like you had no idea what you were going to do?”

I felt a tug on my heart. Strangely enough, under all that pink, Lacey and I weren't all that different. In fact, I sort of understood her motives. “Yeah,” I said. “I have loved someone that much. And when he left, my whole world fall apart. I'm still lost. I get it.”

She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. “I'm sorry, Jesse,” she repeated. And this time it was real. “I only wanted Ben to replace you. I didn't mean for everything to turn into a…a…” she started the word search again.

“An unmitigated disaster?”

Her shoulders fell. “Yeah.”

Yeah,
I thought.
Welcome to the club
.