Girl on the Run (8 page)

I
waited until the guys returned from the soccer game before I went to my room. Exhausted, I changed into my pyjamas—my favourite soccer shirt from grade eight, number twenty-four, thank you very much. It was way too small to wear anywhere else, but it was super soft from thousands of washes, and it matched my purple underwear. It was perfect for humid summer nights.

I lay in bed listening to the boys talk about the soccer victory over the counsellors. Then I wondered what had happened to Devin. I kind of thought he might want to cheer me up.

The kiss was bad, but maybe it's like Chloe said, that we were both so nervous it turned out awkward and sloppy. It was definitely sloppy. I began to picture us together, but this time I made the kiss slower and softer.

A burst of laughter from the boys interrupted my image of Devin wrapping his biceps around me. I heard a few descriptions and I knew exactly who they were talking about—Lacey's cupettes.

Cabin 4A is turning into one big frustrated hormone, me included.

I sat up and looked out the window. The full moon illuminated the grounds. I was staring into the darkness when my head snapped to the side.

Someone was out there.

I moved back, away from the window. The figure continued to walk across the lawn straight toward my cabin.

Every summer horror movie I ever saw ran through my mind. I squirmed to the top of the bed and waited for a hockey mask or chainsaw to appear. The footsteps got closer.

“J.J.,” he whispered.

Devin
.

I let out a breath and pushed back the sheets I had tucked under my chin. I glanced at the door, worried the boys would hear him. This is the last thing I needed Susan to know about.

“J.J.?” he raised his voice.

I rushed to the window, almost knocking into him.

He screamed and fell back on the ground. “Holy shit,” he laughed from the grass.

“Shh!”

“Sorry,” he whispered. Devin brushed off the back of his shorts and stood on the lowest brick with his arms resting on the sill. “I won my soccer game tonight,” he said. His eyes lingered on the number twenty-four on my shirt.

“Good,” I said, crossing my arms, suddenly embarrassed.

His eyes found my face again. “So, are you tired?”

“I'm in bed.”

“I see that,” he smiled.

“I mean…yeah, I'm tired.” Today had been crappy and I wanted him to at least ask how I was feeling before we started making out.

“Are you too tired to get a little closer?” he asked, reaching for me.

I looked down at his hand then back to my bedroom door. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

He studied the window sill. “Is something wrong?”

“Well, yeah. Today was horrible—I mean the thing at the lake, and then I had to see Susan.”

He cleared his throat and met my eyes. “Maybe tomorrow night, then?”

I stayed quiet. I was confused and a bit pissed off. Hadn't he heard the rumours about me in the counsellors' lounge?

Devin took my silence as a hint. He sighed and dropped out of sight.

I stared at the empty window frame feeling suddenly deflated. Then I glanced up at the sky and saw my star.

I put my hands on the window sill and leaned forward. “Wait!” I called out.

With his quick receiver reflexes, Devin ran back and jumped up, practically sitting on the window's edge. “Yes?” he teased.

“Um…you forgot something,” I said in a breathy voice that wasn't entirely fake. I studied the face of this surfer boy grinning back at me. God, he was cute. And sweet. And nice. And strong. And good smelling. And…and kissing me!

His muscled arms held me close, pressing my number twenty-four against his T-shirt. The kiss deepened and I didn't even register the fact only two thin strips of cotton were all that separated our bare skin. What I
was
thinking about was Chloe's golden retriever, Barney. One time Chloe's brother had left a tub of vanilla ice cream on the counter. I walked in the kitchen and found Barney licking that container like it was doggie heroin.

So there I was, hanging out a window with Devin, making out in the moonlight like he was the dog and I was the bowl of ice cream.

I gently pushed him away giving the excuse the boys were still awake. As if on cue, a fart from the other side of the door proved my point. Devin gave me a wink and left with a smile on his face.

But I wasn't smiling.

Dear Diary,

Today was super shitty. Again, the universe is telling me it pointless to try and get my life back. No matter how much I try to fix stuff or do whatever I think is the right thing, it always ends up worse than if I'd done nothing…

I ended up writing at least two paragraphs about Devin's slimy technique. I turned the page and thought about my talk with Lewis. What if Chloe had never hurt her foot that day? What if I didn't have her for a best friend? She'd been a life saver since Dad died.

I glanced at the door, thinking of Spencer. He had latched onto the twins so quickly. Lewis told me Spencer spent the whole summer here.

The whole summer away from his family—just like me.

And what about Scotty? He was just as familiar with this place as Spencer. What about his family? He seemed so sweet. If I were his mother I'd miss him like crazy.

And the twins? Most people thought Liam was the one in charge, but I'd watched Duff sign enough to know he was the one with all the ideas. I wondered if he knew how much his brother depended on him.

I chewed the end of my pen then wrote a few more lines about Cabin 4A. It was a bit sappy, but who cares? Being sappy is better than wishing they were all chained together in handcuffs—which had entered my mind more than once. Besides, it was only for me to read.

I shut the diary and hid it back under my pillow. Turning out the light, I closed my eyes and let Devin and Cabin 4A disappear from my mind.

My fingers touched my bare throat.
Please, Saint Anthony.
Then I fell asleep, thinking of eelgrass.

T
he first thing I noticed was the smell.
I'm dreaming,
I thought, remembering the eelgrass and the cold black bottom of the lake. The second thing I noticed was the weight.
I'm swimming, and the water is pressing down on me.
But I wasn't panicking; I still had air in my lungs. I took a deep breath through my nose. Yup, it was stinky.

Boy stink!
Oh god, are they in my room?!

My eyes flew open, but my bedroom door was closed. The smell hit me again, and I froze.

Ominous violins played in my head as I realized that I wasn't alone in the bed. I moved my legs to the edge of the mattress and felt the extra weight of the stranger shift on the sheets.

A gaping black jaw lined with little razors smiled back at me.

I screamed into the face of that dead eel. Letting out another string of incoherent hysterics, I jumped out of bed and stood shaking, looking at my first overnight visitor.

The long, greasy, black body almost reached the foot of the bed. I put a hand to my mouth, fighting the urge to puke, only to taste eel goo—I was covered in slime.

Clawing at the doorknob, I ran into the big room and was hit with boy morning breath. Few people have breathed such fumes and lived to tell the story.

I burst out of the cabin and hung over the railing. It took a few minutes for my head to clear. Snorts and giggles from inside snapped me awake. I balled up my fists and marched inside.

“Get it out!” I screamed at Spencer.

“I can't,” he smirked. I'm allergic to fish.”

The two Irish terrorists couldn't breathe for laughing. Scotty was busy studying the ceiling.

I ran back to my room, grabbed the eel by the tail, and dragged it along the floor. My hands slipped off a few times, but my anger was making me immune to the grossness, and I managed to lug it out to the porch. Running backwards the last few feet, I heaved with all my strength, and flung that poor dead thing through the air like I was a Scotsman at a caber toss.

With an unexpected sense of satisfaction, I watched it spin head over slimy tail a few times, before it hit its mark. Unfortunately, that happened to be at the feet of Kirk and Lewis.

They stood on the grass, coffee mugs in hand, looking down at the monstrous worm that had flown through the air towards them. They turned their stunned faces to each other, and then up to me, still standing on the porch.

“What did he ever do to you?” Lewis called out.

I gave a weak wave. “Morning,” I said.

Kirk nudged the eel with the toe of his flip-flop.

“I'm impressed,” Lewis said. “Do you know how deep you have to dive to catch these things?”

“Yeah,” Kirk frowned. “I do.”

I was determined to look in control. A slimy fish wasn't going to embarrass me. “Do you think it's dead,” I asked, “or just asleep?”

Kirk looked up and took a sip of his coffee. He kept staring at me.

Finally I made him speechless!

He smiled, unaffected by my wit. “Are you going for the Putnam Award?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“Um…Jesse?” Lewis said, pushing up his glasses. “Do you walk around like this in front of the boys?”

I blinked down at them, not understanding. Then the breeze against my bare thighs reminded me I was only wearing my purple underwear and an extra small T-shirt, slick with eel goo.

“Go twenty-four!” Kirk laughed.

I stumbled backwards into the cabin, ran to my bedroom, and slammed the door. I pressed my butt against the wall. I wanted to explode. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to cry.

Instead, I saw the messy sheets and groaned. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor. There wasn't even time to cry; a trip to the laundry room would have to be made before breakfast.

Interestingly enough, Cabin
4A, or, as I liked to refer to it, the pit of putrefied puberty, had been teamed up with Lacey's group—
again!
Although the sight of the beauty queen surrounded by her loving entourage was a constant reminder of how much my cabin hated me, the regular exposure of my boys to the cupettes seemed to be having a positive effect.

There was a noticeable difference the dirty little apes put into their personal grooming when they were only with me compared to when they were with Lacey's ladies-in-waiting.

We were clustered on the beach, waiting for the kids to pair up for a round of canoe races.

“Lacey,” Spencer said, holding his stomach. “I don't feel so good.”

Lacey was wearing a different bikini. The one for Thursdays, I guessed.

She put a perfectly manicured hand to his forehead. “You don't feel warm,” she said.

His hand travelled from his stomach to his chest. “Yeah,” he moaned, “but I'm finding it hard to breathe.”

“All right.” She looked uneasy. “Go see the nurse. She's in the tiny room off the counsellors' lounge.” Lacey shot me a look as if the relocated nurse's pitiable digs were my fault.

Spencer pressed on. “Really?” he said weakly. “If I lie down for a while, it'll go away.”

Lacey said nothing but simply excused him with a wave of her hand. “Everybody find a buddy,” she called out.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked her.

“Up to your cabin for the morning, Spencer,” Lacey ordered, totally ignoring my mouth hanging open at her pathetic response. Who knew Lacey was such a pushover?

“I hope you're feeling better for the talent show tonight,” one of the cupettes cooed as he strutted by her. He didn't even slow.

“You know he's faking,” I said to Lacey.

“No, it's true,” one of the girls defended. “He has allergy-induced asthma.”

Lacey and I exchanged a look.

“What's he allergic to?” I asked.

“Shellfish.”

I looked over at Liam and Duff, who were rolling their eyes.

“Well, it makes sense,” the cupette continued, flicking her own little blond ponytail. “We're on the beach.”

“Of a lake,” Liam said.

Duff gave a few signs. I caught his eye then signed back a few words they'd taught me. The twins grinned back, and we had a bit of a laugh at the cupette's expense. Each day they taught me new words, and I had to admit, the inclusion felt good.

Lacey frowned at us. “I'm not going to be held responsible for his death,” she said. “Besides, his dad owns the camp. I'd be fired for sure if he complained.”

Spencer had made his way all the way up the slope without dying. He disappeared into the cabin.
No wonder he's a little shit, I thought. Everyone rewards him for it.

As our two groups claimed canoes, it was obvious Liam was the favourite. The girls were actually fighting over who would race with him. In the end he chose Duff, who watched the whole scene looking bored.

Scotty, the only one close to being human, brilliantly manoeuvred to get a pretty girl with almond shaped eyes in his canoe. Her jet black hair was dyed pale blonde at the ends. She was too cool to be hanging out with any of us losers from Cabin 4A. Still, she smiled at Scotty when she handed him her oar.

I was still sore about the eel joke, but I had a soft spot for Scotty. It wasn't his fault he got stuck with Cabin 4A. I was beginning to suspect the “A” stood for arseholes. Besides, I'd learned my lesson. Never underestimate these little brats. I had to keep my senses sharp. I needed to stay in the moment and always be prepared for the next attack.

It was like the
Pink Panther
movies with Peter Sellers that Grandma loved to watch. Living with Spencer and the twins made me feel like Inspector Clouseau. Arriving home he would be attacked by the martial arts expert, Cato. The only difference was that in the movie, Cato was hired to keep the inspector in good fighting shape, while my Catos just wanted to embarrass the hell out of me.