Girl on the Run (7 page)

I
retraced my steps, scanning the grass, but it wasn't there. I ran to the dock, searching for a glimmer of colour on the bleached-out wood.

Alicia stood up when I came back. “What is it?” she asked.

“She lost her necklace,” Kirk said. He'd followed me.

I lifted up the CPR dummies and opened every bag. I ignored their questions and searched every piece of equipment Alicia had brought down for the lesson.

“Did you have it on before you went in the water?” Lacey asked.

I froze. Yes, I did. I remember standing in this very spot touching the charm. Without a backward glance at the group, I jumped into the lake.

I swam ten metres out, halfway to the float. Now that Liam was alive and on dry ground, I could play back the rescue scene with more details. When I struggled to get his head above the water, my hands were thrashing around grabbing anything. I was sure that's when it came off.

I dove down, pulling at the water with my hands. It was impossible to see clearly. I swam a little deeper, until there was complete blackness. I resurfaced for a few mouthfuls of air then dove again, but this time I wasn't going to stop until I hit bottom.

Surrounded by darkening water, I searched, desperate for a flash of silver. Something hit my hand. Eels! I screamed bubbles into the water and started to kick. Wisps of eelgrass wrapped around my ankles. All I could see was blackness. I thrashed around, not even sure which way was up. My lungs burned like crazy, trying to force me to inhale.

Arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me up to the surface. The first gulp of air made me cough. It took a few more tries before I could breathe normally.

“Are you all right?” Kirk was still holding me around the waist, treading water for both of us. He pulled me over to the float. We clung to the side, catching our breath.

His hair was plastered against his face. “What were you thinking?” he asked. His chocolate eyes were huge as they searched my face, looking for any kind of sanity.

I closed my eyes and pressed my head against the ladder. “It's very special.”

“I wouldn't think a piece of jewelry is important enough to drown over.”

He had no idea. No one could understand how special it was. “Then you don't know me,” I said, between breaths. “Listen, I can do this myself, I just need a flashlight and a mask.”

He shook his head. “It'll be impossible to find.”

I let go of the ladder and tried to dive again, but he grabbed my arm. “Don't be stupid,” he said. “It's gone.”

I wrenched out of his grasp. “I said I don't need your help!”

“You
need
to be back on shore, taking care of your cabin, not pulling death stunts.”

My eyes scanned the dock. Sure enough, my four boys were lined up on the porch of Cabin 4A, watching—as were most of the camp. I imagined what they must be thinking.

Kirk's hand slipped around my elbow, and he pulled me close to the ladder again, watching me carefully. I couldn't even look him in the eye; instead I studied the dimple in his chin. Not a lot of guys have that. “Besides,” he said, his voice became softer, “you're crazy if you think I'm going to let you go.”

I stared down into the dark water below my feet. Somewhere down there was my necklace, resting in the eelgrass forever.

“Come on,” he said, motioning toward the beach. “You're shaking.”

I swam ahead of him without talking. I trudged out of the water like a zombie and kept walking, ignoring everyone around me.

“Wait.” Kirk was running beside me in his soaking wet clothes. He must have jumped in after me without hesitating, not even wasting time to take off his shirt.

“Leave me alone,” I sighed. When I reached the bottom of my cabin's steps, the boys had gone back inside. I could hear them laughing. My hand gripped the railing. I raced to the door and flung it open.

Their heads swivelled in my direction. I stood in the doorway, dripping and breathing hard. Silence fell on the room.

Finally, Spencer spoke. “Did you get in trouble too?”

They exploded with laughter.

“My necklace is gone,” was all I could say. My voice quivered at the last part. “And you little shits are to blame.”

Liam walked over to me and held his hands out by his sides. “J.J.,” he said. “I'm really sorry.” He gave me a small hug. A bit of my anger melted away; then I realized he was hugging me a little too long and that his head had found a nice place to rest on my chest right between my boobs.

“Pervert!” I pushed him away and stormed to my bedroom, slamming my door on their new bout of laughter. I ached all over and my head felt like it was full of sand. I changed into dry clothes and crawled into bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin. I guess we were all grounded to the cabin for the afternoon.

A light knocking woke me up. I checked my watch, and saw it was almost suppertime. Worried that the boys might have killed each other or set the cabin on fire, I crawled out of bed and opened the door. Scotty stood there, looking at his sneakers.

“Um…are you coming with us? Like, for supper?”

“Yeah,” My voice sounded like gravel. “We'll leave in ten minutes.”

I combed out my tangled hair and piled it up into a loose bun, then added my headband. My hand went to my bare neck. I zipped up my hoodie to the very top and rubbed my face with my hands, determined not to cry—I couldn't go to supper with red eyes. Lewis's sweatpants were folded and lying on top of my still unpacked duffel bag. I grabbed them and left the room.

Supper was bacon cheeseburgers and macaroni salad. I pushed a noodle around the plate with my fork, trying to be invisible. My little stunt this afternoon was great gossip. Bits of the story would come floating over from conversations close to our table. I snuck a look over at Kirk's usual spot, but he wasn't there.

“Hello, Cabin 4A.” Lacey stood by our table wearing her best debutante smile.

“Hi, Lacey,” Scotty said. The other three goons didn't even break a smile.

“Jazzy,” she said. “Soccer starts in half an hour.” She paused and waited for me to clue in. A short huff was followed by, “Don't you read your camp schedule?”

“Yeah,” I lied. I'd been checking it after each activity, not memorizing the whole day. Since Spencer seemed to be hell bent on sabotaging everything, what was the point? “Um, so soccer,” I said. “What about it?”

“It's some of the counsellors against their kids.” She paused and flicked her ponytail. “Anyway, if you're too tired, I'd be happy to take your men with my girls.”

Lacey was offering to help? That was a surprise. My “men” suddenly looked very interested, and truthfully, I wouldn't mind the peace.

I'd be stupid not to take her up on it. “It's up to them,” I said.

“Sounds interesting,” Spencer winked.

“Great!” Lacey spun around. The cupettes followed her out, and soon the rest of my table trailed behind, obediently.

“I wish I could make them do that,” I mumbled, feeling like I had lost yet another battle. Still, I was grateful to have them out of my hair for a few hours. I grabbed Lewis's sweatpants and made my way to the swinging door at the front of the room.

The kitchen was empty, except for a sink full of dishes. The Brasseau sisters' aprons had already been hung up by the door. It smelled like home on a weekend morning when dad used to cook breakfast.

Bacon and coffee.

The memory hit me unexpectedly. I couldn't fight the tears any longer. I buried my face in the sweatpants, sobbing into the soft fabric.

“Jesse?”

I sniffed a few times and lowered the sweatpants.

“Hi, Lewis.”

He put a hand on my shoulder. “What's wrong?”

“I'm returning your sweatpants,” I held them out to him.

He looked at my hands but didn't make a move to take the pants. “Why were you blowing your nose with them?” he asked.

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I'll wash them.”

“Was supper that bad?”

“No.” I laughed a tiny bit then I told him about Liam faking his drowning and losing my necklace.

“Here,” he said, pushing a plate towards me. “We'll share.” I picked up half of the bacon and tomato sandwich.

“What am I going to tell my mom?” I asked, between chews.

“It's not like you lost it on purpose,” he reasoned. “Do you think she'll be mad?”

“Maybe…I don't know.” I took another bite of the sandwich and picked at the crumbs on the plate. “She'll probably be more worried about how I feel.”

“How do you feel?”

“Pissed, depressed—empty,” I sighed. Lewis wouldn't understand. That necklace had been the last piece of Old Jesse, and now it was lost forever. “It was very special.”

Lewis took a sip of coffee, staying quiet. I brought my foot up on the stool and rested my chin on my knee, picturing my necklace rusting away at the bottom of the lake. A memory unexpectedly resurfaced, and I smiled.

“What?” he asked.

I instinctively stayed quiet, but as the seconds passed, the urge to share this small detail of my life with someone, a new friend actually, outweighed my desire to stay anonymously safe. Besides, Lewis didn't need to know everything, just this one thing.

“Last year,” I began, “I had an important track meet but I totally screwed up on the long jump, not even close to the record. I beat myself up about it all afternoon. Then one of the other girls on the team rolled her ankle during the relay and tore a tendon.” I looked over at Lewis. “It meant she would be out for the rest of the season.” He nodded, understanding.

“We sat together on the bus ride home,” I continued, “talking about how shitty our meet was, but by the time we got back to school the day didn't seem so crappy after all. The weird part was that this was the first time I'd said more than a couple of sentences to this girl at once. And she had been on my team all year.

“When I got home and told my parents what happened, Dad smiled and told me that Jesse Owens once said friendships are born on the field of athletic strife, and as awards corrode, friends gather no dust.”

I blinked a few times, feeling my chest tighten at the memory of Dad's voice. Lewis gave me a small smile and took our dishes to the sink. I pulled my sleeves down past my hands and pressed my palms into my eyes.

“It's good to have a friend like that.” His voice caught, then he cleared his throat. He stayed at the sink, with his back to me, taking his time cleaning up. “Did she ever go back to track?” he asked.

“No,” I smiled. “It was never really her thing. Chloe's more of a fashion diva.”

“How about you?”

“Nope.” My voice was high, almost cracking.

Lewis waited a beat, unsure about my exaggerated reaction to his straightforward question. Quietly, he leaned forward and refilled his coffee mug. I noticed a medallion around his neck.

I took the opportunity to change the topic. “What's this for?” I asked, pointing to the gold piece.

He touched the small oval, then tucked it back inside his T-shirt. “It's Saint Anthony,” he said, “the patron saint of lost items.”

I gave him a look. “Interesting coincidence.”

“I'm serious,” he laughed. “You have to pray, asking Saint Anthony to help find whatever it is you're missing. ‘Something's lost that can't be found. Dear St. Anthony, please come 'round.' It was a gift,” he said. “The person who gave it to me said they lost their heart to me.”

“Are you kidding? That's so corny…sorry, I mean that's so sweet. Your girlfriend must really like you.”

“Um…”

“Oh, sorry again,” I said. “Ex-girlfriend?”

Lewis blushed. “No, boyfriend, actually.”

I stared at him. “Really?”

“Yes.” He adjusted his glasses and shifted his weight a few times.

“Huh,” I said. “Well…what's he like?”

Over the next half hour we ate two huge slices of blueberry pie. I told him about Grandma's list, including the French fries and ice cream for breakfast.

“Why not do both and have deep fried ice cream?” he suggested.

No wonder I liked him from the beginning. Lewis was a toasted turkey clubhouse sandwich with extra mayo.

Leaving the kitchen with his sweatpants for the second time, promising to wash them, I headed towards the lounge, suddenly wanting to email Chloe. I rounded the corner and I smacked into Kirk. He looked serious.

“The camp director wants to see you,” he ordered. “Now.”

T
he camp director's tiny office was at the end of the counsellors' lounge. With Kirk by my side like some kind of prison guard, I walked by the couches and chairs trying to block out the whispers. It was my own green mile—the last walk before getting fired.

The large clock on the wall above the computer desk ticked away my last minutes. Jesse Collins, new record holder for shortest stint as camp counsellor.

She looked up from her desk when we walked in and motioned for me to take a seat. Kirk stayed by the door, maybe to make sure I didn't bolt. I tried not to roll my eyes at him.

“Look at this office,” the camp director said, waving her hand like a TV game show model. “Look at all the awards.”

I stayed quiet. My first year in track had earned me more awards than were on display here. She walked over to the shelf and pointed to a silver-coloured cup. She wiped the plate with the cuff of her shirt, smiling at the inscription. “The Putnam Award,” she read. “Given to the person whose behaviour exhibits the highest values of Kamp Krystal Lake, by instilling pride and morale in his fellow campers.”

I leaned forward and read the name Lacey Publicover several times. I noticed an empty glass case on her desk.

“What's supposed to go in there?” I asked.

Her smile dropped immediately. “That's the home for the triathlon cup,” she said, dropping into her chair.

“I thought you'd never won.”

“We haven't,” she said. “This case has been empty for the last twenty years.”

I squirmed in my seat, bracing myself for her next question. It must be coming, she must know. Again, I wished I could read what my guidance counsellor had put on that form.

“Kirk tells me there was an episode at the lake today,” she said. “And it involved several members of your cabin. Are you finding things too hard, Jessica?”

I shook my head; it was easier to lie if I didn't have to speak. “And it's just Jesse,” I said.

She ignored my correction. “One of your kids pretending to drown is a serious prank,” she said.

No kidding.

“I understand there was a mix-up with your registration,” she continued. “But you decided to keep the original assignment.”

“I had no other choice,” I said.

“Really?”

I frowned at her surprise over this. “Yes, ma'am,” I explained. “Kirk said there were no other counsellors.”

“Is that true?” She looked over my head at Kirk.

“Yes,” he answered, “but she looked capable.” He folded his arms and leaned on the door frame.

The camp director pinched the end of her braid. I could hear her foot tapping on the floor. Finally she spoke. “This isn't a warning, Jessica; I know you have your hands full. But if there is another incident, I may have to reconsider Kirk's decision.” She stood up and gestured toward the door, letting me know the meeting was over.

“You were the first one in the water and you did all the right things,” she added. “No matter what happens, I'd like you to stay on. Maybe you could help Alicia.”

“Thank you, ma'am. I'd appreciate that,” I said, amazed to have dodged this bullet. Don't get me wrong, I hated Cabin 4A, but I couldn't get fired. Mom would think I hadn't tried hard enough, wondering when I'd become such a quitter. Grandma would be disappointed. And Chloe? She was expecting Old Jesse to emerge, not some pathetic version who gave in to a bunch of delinquents.

“That's the spirit,” she smiled. “And call me Susan.”

“Sure…Susan.”

I marched past Kirk, wishing I could give him a good shove into the wall. His footsteps were right behind me as I marched across the green slope.

“Hey, Just Jesse.”

“Screw off.”

He jumped in front of me. “Hold on,” he said.

This time I did shove him to the side—at least, I tried. He barely moved. “You tried to get me fired.”

“What?” He held up his hands as if surrendering. “No way. I'm the one who told her you saved him.”

“I didn't save him.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest and dropped my voice to a whiny grumble. “He wasn't drowning…unfortunately.”

Kirk slouched forward a bit, bringing his eyes directly in line with mine. The effect was immediate. I felt like I was drowning in chocolate. My breath caught in my throat and I dropped my gaze to his chest.

Kirk had changed into a faded T-shirt and plaid shorts. “Listen,” he said. “I'm sorry about your necklace. It was nice.”

The wind rippled his T-shirt. I hadn't realized how broad his shoulders were. I mean, he was lean, but not skinny, just toned…I guess. And I thought I smelled that spicy scent again.

I dropped my gaze further down, staring at the grass between our flip-flops. It seemed like he wasn't going to move until I said something. I took a deep breath and thought about my talk with Lewis about our friends back home. I was so busy trying to convince Kirk I was tough enough to handle Cabin 4A, I'd forgotten how to be civil. “Look,” I began, trying to avoid his chocolate stare. “I was upset earlier, and I ran away without thanking you for diving in after me, with all your clothes on. So…um, thanks for that, I guess.”

A crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You're welcome, Just Jesse,” he said.

“Yeah, whatever,” I walked around him and fought the urge to turn around, but when I reached the porch steps, I gave in and did a quick peek. He was still watching me.