Girl on the Run (5 page)

A
fter supper, I gave myself a pat on the back for not becoming soiled at any time during the meal. There was a scavenger hunt over the whole grounds that lasted the longest hour on recorded history. And since I spent most of my time making sure Spencer wasn't making booby traps or collecting snakes for my bed that night, we barely collected three out of the twenty items.

Lacey's team won, and Cabin 4A, nurse's office for delinquents, came in last. I may have been reinventing myself, but I still hated losing, especially to a cupcake.

The boys traded gross talk in the cabin while I hung out on the porch. I wished for my iPod, knowing the sunset would be so much nicer without the background commentary on the fine art of booger flicking.

The rest of the campers were beginning to gather on the beach, anticipating the fireworks. I noticed most of the other kids were hanging out with their counsellors. Playing Frisbee, cracking jokes, having a game of touch football…bonding. Not insulting each other or engaging in a battle of wills. I let a out a long breath, suddenly feeling really tired.

The sound of footsteps coming up the porch made me turn. Kirk stopped just below the top step. He craned his neck as if he was trying to see behind me. He looked surprised to find me all by myself—surprised that I wasn't bonding with the cabin. My heart sped up, trying to prepare a list of excuses to explain why I was letting my demons stay inside. I could imagine his speech on how I should be of playing Monopoly with them on the porch in the sunshine.

Instead, he ran a hand through his shaggy hair, pushing it off his forehead. “Evening, Just Jesse.”

Howdy, Sheriff.

He leaned against the railing and casually slipped a hand into the pocket of his cargo shorts. I was surprised he didn't catch a cold, being so super cool and everything. “I heard you met Lewis after lunch.”

Crap. He knows about the pie.

“Yup,” I said, purposely looking back toward the lake.

“He's a good guy,” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice, enjoying my moment of blueberry humiliation. He was probably picturing me in the kitchen wearing nothing but purple underwear. My jaw clenched.

He moved against the railing, making the wood squeak. “Tonight there's a thing for the counsellors down on the beach.”

“Yeah, the fireworks, I know.”

“No, after the kids are tucked in there's going to be a bonfire. Since you're a counsellor, you can come.”

I turned to him. “Is it all right to leave the kids?”

He laughed. “It's on the beach, right in front of the cabins.”

“Um…maybe.”

Not if you're there.

“It's up to you,” he said, sounding indifferent. He ran his finger along the railing, paying particular attention to a knot in the wood. I stared at his hand. When I looked up he was smiling back at me. I tore my gaze away from those stupid milk chocolate eyes and squirmed in my chair.

He leaned back and took a few steps down; he was ready to leave. “By the way,” he said, “the building beside the main hall is a small lounge for the counsellors. There's internet, so you can email if you want.”

I thought of Chloe. “Do I need a password?” I asked.

“It's already set up for your name,” he said over his shoulder. “Just put in a new password when you log on.”

My name or Jessica Jesse's?

“Sure, thanks,” I mumbled. But Kirk was already down the steps and calling out to some other guy with a football. I leaned forward, watching him run for the wobbling pass. “Miss,” I whispered. He dove for the ball and made a great show of rolling in the grass, but he'd made the catch. Big deal, like no one had ever caught a ball before.

The beach slowly filled with campers. After I prompted them several times, my four boys finally emerged from inside and ran ahead, eager to cut the cord to their nerdy counsellor. I stood off to the side, exchanging nervous smiles with a few unknown faces. After five minutes, my cheeks were sore from all the fake happiness. I glanced at my watch.

Crap.

It was only my first day, and already I was exhausted. I was dreaming of that little twin bed when someone touched my shoulder.

“Devin!” I smiled—a real one this time. He was wearing jeans and a tight white T-shirt that showed every ripple. Seriously, how many sit-ups did this guy do a day?

“How was the hike?” he asked.

I blushed, remembering how I spent most of it picturing us in an embrace that could be the cover of Chloe's romance book. “No one died,” I said.

“Cool.”

“Yeah.” I looked down at my flip-flops but paused to stare at his chest again. Definitely hot pirate material. The fireworks finally started, giving us something to focus on other than my lame flirting.

We stood, craning our necks all the way back, oohing and ahhing like a game show audience. The big finale was not quite so big or finale-ish, but they weren't bad for a summer camp. Devin and I started to leave the beach with everyone else. I noticed the boys had already reached the steps of the cabin. I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Devin and purposely slowed down.

“Um…so are you going to the bonfire tonight?” I asked.

“Bonfire?”

“There's one for the counsellors, right?” I searched his blank expression with sudden panic. “After the kids are tucked in?”

Devin reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “I think I heard something about it. I probably won't be there.”

“Oh.”

He stopped, and glanced around the darkened lawn. “But I might run into you after?”

I tried to see what he was looking for but nothing stood out. “Okay,” I said.

“Cool.” He rocked back on his heels a few times as if he were waiting for me to say something. “Cool…okay.” Then he jogged up the slope, into the darkness.

“Cool?” I whispered. I decided to let it go since he seemed to be the only nice guy here. Well, the only nice guy besides Lewis. My short time with Cabin 4A was increasing my paranoia. I pictured myself on an empty beach waiting for the pretend bonfire, while they waited in the bushes with water guns full of vinegar.

I barricaded myself in my tiny room, listening to the guys settle down. Settling down for a twelve-year-old boy meant having farting contests and belching the alphabet.

The bonfire had started a half hour earlier. I wanted to stay in my bed and go to sleep, but I had a part to keep up. I was the new girl having a summer of flippant, flirtatious flings, and no cabin of evil turds or know-it-all head counsellors were going to push her—I mean me—around. I was about to march out my door, all fun loving and fancy free, when I caught my reflection in the mirror. I was still in my blue Adidas shorts and T-shirt. Liam's comment about being nerdy rang in my ears.

I opened the second drawer under my bed, and opened the bag labelled BONFIRE. I had to admit Chloe knew her stuff: ripped jeans, bikini top, and her favourite white hoodie. I brushed out my hair and did two braids, smoothing out my side bang. Wearing Chloe's outfit made me more homesick than I realized. I decided to check out the counsellors' lounge and send her a quick email.

I found the white building beside the main hall and climbed up the steep set of stairs to the door. The large room had a small kitchen along one wall, with several couches and chairs filling out the space. I went over to the desk, and logged onto the computer with my name—my real name. Enter new password, it read. I drummed my fingers on the table then typed in BLUEBERRY.

After re-reading the email five times to make sure I didn't sound desperate or sad, I hit send. I logged out and skipped down the stairs, feeling good. Even though it wasn't like talking to Chloe, writing the email still had the same therapeutic effect.

I squinted through the darkness and saw two tall figures coming up the slope. I recognized Kirk's voice and froze on the spot, trying to decide what to do. I had two choices. I could march straight past him with my best impersonation of Chloe in the local mall's annual fashion show, or I could run and hide like some kind of coward.

The coward won.

I ducked under the steps, and hid in the shadows. This is bad, I told myself: no one is ever happy after eavesdropping.

“…new counsellor,” a guy's voice said.

“Which one?” Kirk asked.

“Tall one, with the dark hair…wicked legs.”

Kirk began to imitate me. “Jesse Collins, Cabin 4,” he said, in a snotty voice that was not like me…at all!

“Jesse Collins? Holy shit! I thought she looked familiar. She's this phenom on the track, man.”

“What are you talking about?” Kirk asked.

“She owns almost every provincial record, a few national too, I think. My high school girlfriend used to compete against her. She's like a superstar, or something.” There was a pause. “There were rumours about the Olympic team.”

“Shut up.”

“No dude, she's that good.”

“Huh,” Kirk said.

“And she's here for the whole summer?”

“I doubt it, she's got Spencer.”

“Oh shit, did you do that?” he laughed.

“Not my fault.”

“Too bad, she's cute.”

Kirk made a noise that was like a half laugh and half snort. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Piss off, of course she is.”

“Not my type. Besides, it's hard to notice what she looks like when she stares me down every time I talk to her.”

“I believe that's called eye contact.”

“No, it's like she's ready to challenge me on anything I say.”

“I hate that, makes it harder to bullshit.”

Their voices faded as they walked up to the lounge. I crouched in the darkness feeling the air get stuck in my throat. I turned my head and concentrated on the bonfire, letting the flames calm me down. Eventually the vise loosened and I took a slow breath.

It could have been worse; at least they didn't know about Dad. It was bad enough in a small town back home, let alone an even smaller population here at camp.

I used to care about provincial records, and even the Olympics, but not anymore. Those were things I no longer had, and no longer deserved. I put my hand on my stomach, on the heaviness that was always there. A reminder of what I'd done and what I'd lost.

I
scuffed to the end of the dock and listened to the bursts of laughter echoing from the bonfire on the beach. The lake was so still it looked like black glass. I couldn't believe Grandma expected me to go skinny dipping. Since the tampon temper tantrum didn't work, I was a bit leery of her other suggestions. Still, I needed her advice. I needed to hear her voice, feel one of her hugs. I closed my eyes, pretending I could smell her lavender skin cream.

I knew exactly what she would say. Feeling sorry for myself wasn't on the to-do list for my summer of freedom. My finger and thumb rubbed the silver disc of my necklace.

I looked up at the stars. So they knew who I was, big deal. The first guy said I was cute: wicked legs, he said. I stood up and did an outfit check. Chloe's style was too good to waste. Pulling down the zipper a tiny bit, I walked over to the beach.

“Hey, Jazzy!” Lacey called out, as I entered the circle. She approved of the designer labels, obviously. I found a free spot and sat down.

A girl with smooth ebony skin and a big smile nodded to me. “Hi, I'm Alicia,” she said. “You're Jesse, right?”

I liked Alicia already. “Yeah,” I said.

“I hear you have Spencer,” she laughed.

“Lucky I even made it through the first day.”

Alicia told me she was a lifeguard and did all the water safety training. I began to relax, and regretted not coming to the party earlier.

I played with the end of a braid, lazily watching the fire, content for the first time that day. Through the flames, a pair of milk chocolate eyes stared back. Kirk was standing with another group. I dropped my gaze.

Crap.

I hated losing, even if was only a staring contest. I pretended to be listening to a story Alicia was telling about the lake. When I tilted my head and snuck a peek, he was gone.

“Big mother of an eel,” she said.

That got my attention. “Big eel?” I asked.

“The lake is full of them,” Alicia said. “They usually swim really deep where the bottom is covered in long eelgrass. Last year we caught one and brought it close to the shore. It was huge, like five feet long!”

I imagined Spencer's snakes and curled my feet under me. “Do eels bite?”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Kirk said.

He had sat down beside me. His red and white Kamp Krystal Lake T-shirt hung untucked over his cargo shorts. He was so sloppy with his shaggy hair and wrinkled clothes. I could tell from his tanned arms and legs he spent a lot of time outside. He probably swam in the lake as a substitute for showering.

“Damn right they can bite,” Alicia laughed. “Their mouths are lined with little razors.”

Kirk's knee bumped against mine. I was glad my jeans were a barrier against his skin. Still, I moved my leg. “Well,” I said. “Have any of the kids been hurt?”

Or counsellors?

Alicia laughed and winked at Kirk.
“Only the ones stupid enough to put their hand in its mouth,” she said.

“You let an eel bite you?” I asked him.

He brushed away a thick wave of hair and shrugged. “It was my response to Alicia saying, ‘Hey, do you think it's dead, or just asleep?'”

Despite my determination to stay mad at Kirk, I ended up laughing with everyone else. And for someone who was so sloppy, he didn't smell like a locker room at all. He smelled kind of…spicy? After a few more stories went around the fire, I glanced at my watch and then squinted through the darkness at Cabin 4A. Had they found a forgotten stash of medicine or first aid supplies? I pictured my pillow soaked with iodine or them plotting to sneak laxatives into my food every meal.

Kirk grinned like he could read my mind. “No flames, that's a good sign,” he teased. “Having second thoughts about your assignment?”

“Of course not,” I said, sitting up a little taller. “I like a good
challenge
.”

My shoulder brushed up against his. I must have inched over, trying to pinpoint that spicy scent. I hadn't realized how close we were sitting. Our legs were touching again, but this time I didn't pull away, and neither did he. “Yeah,” he said. “But easy is nice sometimes too.”

“The reward is greater, the harder you have to work.” I stared him down and finally won. His eyes left my face then trailed down.

“That necklace,” he said.

I put my hand to my throat, touching the silver charm. He was still staring.

His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “It's very,” he started.

Special
.

“...distracting.”

“What?” I asked.

He continued to stare at my neck. Then lower. I realized my hoodie was unzipped most of the way down. So there I was, perfect posture, boobs stuck out, talking about hard challenges.

I couldn't speak. My sudden embarrassment and his earlier words were going through my head, making me angry. I turned away and began to play with a ripped thread on my knee.

He cleared his throat. “It's nice,” he finally said, voice back to normal. I watched him stand up and walk to another group. Mystery and ignorance are never a good mix, I decided. I was right to ignore that jerk.

After another hour, I said goodbye to Alicia, and went back to the cabin. It was so dark I could barely make out the outline of the cottage.

“J.J.?”

I screamed, and then laughed. “Devin, what are you doing?”

He was sitting on the porch steps. “Um…waiting.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“It's okay.”

He stood up and put his hands in his front pockets of his jeans. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

I frowned up at the cabin. “I have to keep an eye on the boys,” I told him.

“How about the end of the dock?”

It was perfect. The lake was so flat the reflection of the sky made it look like the water was full of stars.

“So, Coach tells me I'll be a shoo-in for MVP next year,” Devin said.

We sat crossed-legged on the smooth wooden surface. “Great,” I smiled. “Are you thinking of playing when you get to university?”

“Eventually, I guess. I'm not sure what position I'll end up with.”

“Maybe quarterback?”

“More like fullback. I could still get bigger.”

“Bigger!” Air caught in my throat.

He made a quick fist and inspected his bicep. “Which means more weight training,” he said.

He continued to talk, but his voice became faint, like a faraway echo. Since Dad had died, I hadn't done one lick of training. I realized all over again that I wasn't an athlete anymore. My identity had died with Dad.

Why am I here? What am I doing on this dock, calmly discussing this guy's training, when everything I was passionate about is gone?

I stood up and blinked back the tears—I needed to get to my pillow. “Sorry, Devin,” I said, “I have to go.”

He scrambled to his feet. “No, wait,” he said. “I want to give you something.” He took my hand and pulled me closer. “Look up.”

I let my head fall back. I felt dizzy looking at the millions of bright stars.

“Find the prettiest one,” he whispered.

I took a few moments then pointed up. “The tiny blue one, right there.”

“From now on it's yours.”

It was a bit corny, but he was so sweet, and honestly I liked the idea of having my own star. He walked me back to the cabin's porch steps.

“I'm worried I'll wake them,” I said.

Or more realistically, step on a nest of snakes waiting for me.

“Not a problem.” Devin took me around to the side of the cabin where my bedroom window was, and showed me how a few expertly placed bricks made perfect steps. “We used to sneak in and steal Vaseline from the nurse's supply room,” he told me.

My eyes grew wide and the sudden blush burned my ears.

“You know,” he shrugged. “For pranks.”

“Oh, yeah…of course,” I swallowed. “Pranks.” Holy frig! You'd think someone who sat on pie would be more in tune to the uses of Vaseline for playing tricks rather than anything…else.

Trying to regain my composure and end the evening before I really embarrassed myself, I brushed past him and reached up for the window sill.

“Do you need a boost?” he asked, standing behind me.

“No, I'm okay—” I stopped. “Yeah, sure. A boost would be great.”

I stepped on the first brick, feeling his hands gripe either side of my waist. His breath was warm against the back of my neck. I decided to let go of worrying and pictured the cover of Chloe's mom's romance novel.

I turned my head, brushing my check against his. “Um…thanks for my star,” I whispered.

He leaned around me and brushed a stray hair off my forehead. He smelled like coconuts and fresh soap. We stared at each other. Then he finally said, “I really like your braids.”

And then he kissed me.

After Devin left, I climbed through the window and sat on my bed, kind of in a trance. My fingers lightly touched my lips. Disappointing is not the right word. Biting into a chocolate chip cookie and finding a raisin is disappointing. Not this; this was…bad. It was a bad, bad kiss with ninety-nine percent enthusiasm and one percent skill. I could still feel his tongue in my mouth. What about the movie scenes? What about the romance cover? Where was my hot pirate?

I turned on the little light and found my red diary, left forgotten on the floor under some clothes. I pushed myself back against the headboard and balanced the diary on my knee. I opened it and saw the first blank page. Blank page?

This wasn't my book of lies from home, this was a brand new diary. A sticky note from Mom was pasted on the inside cover. She had written a few lines about this being a new start for me, and ended with that “stories to tell my own daughter” thing again.

I stared at the page and tapped the pen against my teeth. I know with a huge amount of certainty that I would NEVER want to read my mom's diary. Ew. I decided this wasn't going to be an insightful memoir. Unlike the fake one at home, I was going to write exactly what I was feeling. I didn't have to worry about Mom or anyone else finding it.

I admit, the thought was a little more than exhilarating. This would be the one place I wouldn't have to fake it; I could be as angry or depressed as I wanted. I started with the truth, as depressing as it was. Devin is definitely a good-looking guy. It was our first kiss, but probably our last.

Dear Diary,

Yes, Virginia, there is a Kissing Clause…

I didn't stop writing until I had filled eight pages' worth. Eight pages! I usually took a whole weekend to squeeze out a four-page book report, and even then it was doubled spaced. Maybe that pamphlet knew what it was talking about.

I put the diary away, punched my pillow a few times, and lay down. Devin was long gone from my mind, but I stared up at the ceiling remembering Kirk's comment. “Not his type,” I mumbled. “Like I care.”