Girl on the Run (28 page)

Although Lacey would never get on my Christmas card list, I appreciated the effort she put into cheering for Spencer. My eyes darted back and forth from the opening of the woods to the finish. Susan had been eyeballing the cup since Camp Whispering Pines had dropped it off. She was surrounded by the other directors and—he had come!

Mr. Baxter looked over at me then squinted, trying to verify what he was seeing. The tweed cap soon made its way through the crowd, and I prepared for a showdown.

“Jesse,” he said. “You told me you would be running.”

“I lost a sneaker,” I said.

“Is this some kind of prank?”

“No, sir,” I said. “It's not a prank. It's a chance.”

He crossed his arms. “I don't understand,” he said. “If you're not running, who is?”

“Spencer.”

He stared back, almost daring me to continue. I swallowed dryly, and I took advantage of his silence to plead my case. “He's very talented,” I stammered, “and I think you should encourage him with this. In the short time we've been training, he's made a lot of progress. Make sure he keeps running at school. Maybe get in touch with the track and field coach before September. But he doesn't just have to do track, there's soccer, or basketball…”

A wild cheer interrupted my hastily prepared parenting advice. We turned to see the winning runner emerge from the woods.

T
he main hall was crowded with almost three camps' worth of kids. A full buffet was spread on the tables, and music was vibrating off the walls. The celebratory crowd from Camp Skylarker were the loudest, hoisting the triathlon cup in the middle of the dance floor. At the front of the room, Susan's glass case remained in its perpetual barren state.

I stood in the doorway, separated from everyone, watching Cabin 4A in the corner. Spencer's wild red hair was barely visible over the heads of the guys and the cupettes. Since the party had started, a continuous parade of teenagers had made their way over to offer congratulations. I never thought I'd be so happy standing on the sidelines—make that floating on the sidelines. The knot in my stomach had been replaced with helium. I don't think my feet were touching the ground.

Someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see Kirk standing there in his cargo shorts and red and white Kamp Krystal Lake T-shirt. We walked outside, leaving the music echoing behind us.

“I saw you talking with Susan earlier,” he said. His voice rose up at the end, unsure. My heart fluttered a bit, knowing he was worried about me leaving.

I stared at our fingers entwined together. He squeezed my hand, making me look into those milk chocolate eyes. I stayed quiet a few extra seconds, shamelessly enjoying the drama. “She asked if I wanted to bunk with another girls' cabin or keep my shed.”

“You're staying!”

I nodded. “Alicia called her boyfriend as soon as she got the good news. He's on his way to pick her up.”

A grin broke across his face. “Okay, then,” he laughed. “What's it going to be?”

“I told Susan I'm prepared to teach water safety, and that I'm happy staying where I am.” I stepped closer to him and lowered my voice to what I hoped sounded like a sexy whisper. “I'm partial to having my own place.”

Someone cleared their throat, in that obvious way that you can't ignore. I saw Spencer and his dad standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Baxter,” I smiled.

After the race, while Janine was enjoying her easy victory over a twelve-year-old boy and a skinny occasional jogger, I found out that Spencer would be going to her school in September. Mr. Baxter spent a long time speaking with her, and by the end of the conversation, he had all the contact information he needed to get Spencer started on the right foot—in a manner of speaking.

“Nice finish,” Mr. Baxter said to me, for like the tenth time that afternoon.

Nice?

I grinned at Spencer. “A winning sprint for second place, with everyone screaming your name,” I said, “is a
great
finish.”

“And a personal best,” Spencer reminded me. He reached behind him and then handed me a rectangular box.

“What's this?” I asked.

Spencer shuffled his feet. “It's for all the training…and stuff.”

“It's a thank you,” Mr. Baxter explained. “I may not be good at time management, but I'm good at buying gifts.”

I opened the box and lifted the tissue paper. I was pulled into a memory. I had begged my parents, but Adidas only made so many pairs to commemorate my namesake's Olympic success.

“Look. Dad,” I'd pleaded while pointing to the computer monitor. “There's even a little flying golden shoe on the side.”

“You won't even be able to run in them,” my dad had justified. “Besides, they're too expensive.”

“They're not like the runners you lost in the lake,” Spencer said, bringing me back to the present. “But like Dad said, he's good at buying stuff.”

My mouth hung open. I looked at Spencer, stunned by the generous gift. “You remembered” was all I could choke out. My hand touched the dark blue sneakers with the red and white stripes. I picked up one shoe and found the tiny golden wings.

“How?” I began.

“From eBay,” Mr. Baxter replied.

Yeah, eBay for millionaires,
I thought.

“I can't accept these,” I said. But I already had them out of the box.

“At least try them on,” Mr. Baxter said. “Make the cost of shipping them worth my while.”

Of course they fit.

“Good,” he said, satisfied, then he shook my hand.

Kirk and I
spent the rest of the evening on his porch, listening to the party in the main hall wind down. I sat on a chair with my feet up on the railing, enjoying how my new sneakers looked.

“I guess there's nothing you can't do,” he said, passing me a brownie from a plate that Lewis had dropped off.

“I'm never doing that again,” I sighed.

He put an arm around my shoulder. “Coaching?”

“No,” I said, cuddling into his side. “Watching the race. I don't know how my family ever did it.”

“For the same reason you were there for Spencer, I imagine. I'm really proud of you.”

I smiled, enjoying the bubbles popping inside me. I couldn't remember feeling so light and airy. “Thanks, but Spencer did all the work.”

“No, I mean you believed in him when no one else did. He'll remember this summer forever.”

“Me too.” I closed my eyes, trying to remember the right words. “‘Find the good around you and share it, showcase it and people will start believing.'”

Kirk chewed thoughtfully. “One of your dad's?” he asked with a mouthful of chocolate.

“No, Jesse Owens,” I said. I took a bite of brownie. “Holy crap! This is so good!”

“Spencer got a pan too. Although I'm sure the guys had it finished before they even left the parking lot. I heard the twins signed up for another two weeks.”

“Who knew Cabin 4A would turn out to be so sought after?” I teased. “I still can't believe Mr. Baxter is taking all four boys on his yacht for the weekend.”

“I don't think Ben will get too lonesome while they're gone,” he said.

I could see a blond couple in the distance walking hand and hand.
Surprising how well dill pickles and cupcakes went together.

Kirk brushed the chocolate crumbs from his hands, then stood up and reached for me. “Come on,” he said. “I've got something for you.”

Curious, I followed him into the cabin. Kirk had his back to me, and opened one of the drawers under his bed. He stood up and faced me with his hands behind his back.

“I guess I was saving these, but then I wasn't sure if you'd want them. So I was just going to hide them in your duffel bag to find when you got home.”

“Kirk! What is it?”

He handed me the bundle of denim.

“These are my favourite jeans,” I said, holding up the shorts.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded uncharacteristically shy and it made him even more endearing.

“From the night Scotty dumped the eel crap on me?” I clarified.

“That's right.”

“But I threw them out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You made them into cut-offs?”

“Um, yeah.” Kirk's ears turned bright red.

I thought my heart would burst. “They look…perfect.”

He smiled and started to talk quickly. “I had to fray the edges a few times, and I washed them over and over, to get the right, well, feel, I guess.”

“Thank you.” I hugged him, resting my chin on his warm shoulder.
I could stay in his embrace forever.
“When do the new kids arrive?”

“We have all day tomorrow to ourselves,” he smiled. “And tonight, of course.” The light, airy bubbles in my stomach began to grow. I still had my job and another whole month with Kirk. He began kissing me, and I melted into his arms.

T
he next morning at five thirty, everyone was asleep. Except for me; I had a date…with my dad. Running was our time again, and just like when he was alive, I was able to talk with him. I started out slowly, telling him about Kirk.

“He's travelling Europe with friends,” I said. “Yeah, I know. We have separate lives and my last year of school will be so busy getting back into training. He promises to keep in touch, though, and says he'll send me a postcard every two weeks, and email in between. You know I love him, right? It's just that I wish our finish lines were in the same time zone.”

“Yes, that's true. I still have another four weeks.” I embellished a bit here, knowing that Dad wouldn't be encouraging me in what I was thinking at that moment, but that's the nice thing about one-sided conversations: it's so easy to agree.

“I talked with Susan,” I began again. “She has no hard feelings about the triathlon, considering Mr. Baxter was so pleased. And she's excited about the running club I want to start here. I think she likes the idea of grooming future athletes for the triathlon cup.”

When I reached the soccer field, Kirk was waiting with the stopwatch.

I began my sprints across the grass. “Feet and lungs, Jesse,” he called out.

Afterward, we walked down the trail, and came to the mist-covered lawn. The lake looked cool and inviting.

“Let's go for a swim,” I said.

“You read my mind,” he grinned, walking to the dock.

“I'll get my suit.”

“You're forgetting.”

“What?”

“I still owe you a peep show.” He peeled off his T-shirt and dropped it on the dock. Next came the sneakers and socks. “Are you ready to get even?”

Was I ready?

I looked at the row of quiet cabins; no one else was up yet. A splash made me turn back, and he was gone. The end of the dock was wrapped in a haze. I ran to the edge and saw the rest of his clothes in a pile. I squinted through the fog.

“Kirk?”

“Yup,” he said, from beyond the mist.

“We're not even if I can't see you.”

There was a pause. “So, come in.”

“With my shorts on?”

“Whatever you want,” said the fog. “It's up to you.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart knew what it wanted. My body knew what it wanted. It was my brain that was holding me back—I was scared.

Scared of how it would feel. Scared of how much I would lose when the summer was over.

“Just Jesse?” his voice sounded a bit wounded. “Still there?”

“No.”

He splashed a few times, but I couldn't tell if he was coming closer or swimming away from me. I began to panic at the thought of him leaving me. What was wrong with me? Only yesterday I was crying over the possibility of having to go home. I looked down at my sneakers. I was so scared and full of guilt after dad died that I gave up running, thinking I didn't deserve to be happy. I let my fear take over my life, and dictate my choices, and it almost cost me everything.

“Still there?” he asked again.

I dove in and swam towards the float. When I surfaced, Kirk was ten feet in front of me, grinning. I turned around, but the shore was a bank of haze. The only things visible were my pile of clothes next to his on the dock. No one would be able to see us.

“I don't have a mask,” I said.

“Then get closer.”

I treaded water for a moment, then disappeared under the water. I slowly resurfaced right in front of him, and I saw
everything.

“Bet I can guess what you're thinking,” I said. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and we started to kiss. I laughed as we sank for the third time.

“Come on,” he said, leading me to the float. He held the ladder with one hand, and reached for me with the other.

I hesitated. “Are we getting out?” I asked.

He chuckled nervously and pulled me into his arms. His mouth was warm and soft on mine. I felt my back press up against the ladder.

“I love you,” Kirk whispered around the kiss.

My skin was on fire everywhere he touched. His hand smoothed down my side and hooked behind my knee, circling my leg around his waist. A terrified thrill ran through me. I kissed him back eagerly, combing my fingers around his head, clutching his hair. He broke off the kiss then leaned back, watching me carefully.

“Before we go any further I have to ask you something,” he said, his face inches from mine.

“It's my first time, and I have condoms in my room,” I said.

“I know,” he laughed. “You already told me.”

“What then?”

He raised one eyebrow. “Are you ready to quit?”

I fought the grin and cleared my throat importantly. “Hell no. I definitely want to see this through to the finish.”

“And the finish line is where?”

“My cabin,” I answered, pulling him closer.

“And the start?”

“Here.”

It may have been romantic, and we were both willing, but the logistics of having sex in the water, up against the ladder, proved impossible for us that morning. But I'm no quitter, and once I decided we should hold the whole race in my cabin, Kirk smashed his own record swimming back to the dock. Getting out of the lake and struggling to put sweaty clothes on over wet bodies was the most unsexy thing anyone has ever attempted.

Racing up the grassy slope, before anyone woke up, we tumbled into my tiny cabin laughing nervously, with most of our clothes in a bundle in our arms. My twin bed was a more realistic place than the water. After a frantic fumbling of long legs and blankets, we were quickly under the covers, and in each others' arms.

“Just Jesse,” he said, cupping my face with his hand. He started kissing me and I felt like we were the only two people that existed, and that my cabin was our own little planet.

Even after everything we'd been through, I was still too embarrassed to watch him put the condom on. And I soon realized that Chloe's mother's romance book had it all wrong. There was no rapturous climax for me.

But I was in love, and just the feel of his warm body against mine was enough. I held him tightly, not wanting anything to come between us. Soon I began to relax, and all I could think was:
I'm having sex. I love Kirk. I'm having sex. I love Kirk. I love having sex with Kirk.

Later, after the most delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the main hall ever, we went back to my little twin bed, and this time I watched him put on the condom. And the next morning, I even helped.