Lingering Echoes (17 page)

The bril
liance of the moon lit our path as we descended down the hill. We returned to the campsite, following the smell of beef and potatoes, and the carefree laughter in the air.

“
Allie, you awake?” Aaron called from down the row of sleeping bags.

Rolling over, I
turned my head towards him and rubbed my eyes. “Sort of.”

“Good.” He rustled around as h
e unzipped his sleeping bag. He hovered over me, dressed in his athletic pants and a long-sleeved thermal.

“What are you doing?”

He smiled at me. “What do you think? Breakfast, remember?”

I groaned, burying my head under my pillow. I had forgotten about that.

“Come on,” he encouraged. Grabbing my arm, he pulled me into a sitting position. “Don’t think you’re getting out of it.”

I shook him off and watched him move to the cooking supplies.

“You going to make the fire or what?” Aaron said, pulling out a bag of easy-make pancake mix and a frying pan.

“I’m co
ming, I’m coming,” I grumbled. After taking a minute to freshen up, I noticed Nick by the fire pit. He was restacking the wood into a clumsy pile, with the bottle of lighter fluid sitting a couple feet away.

“Y
ou don’t have to make the fire,” I said to him. “That was going to be my contribution to breakfast.”

“I like making fires,” Nick responded
, piling the wood into a ridiculous stack. He opened the lighter fluid.

A thought popped into my head. “What do you think about starting over and making
the fire the right way?”

Nick glowered at me. “What do you mean ‘the right
way’? You seem to think I don’t know how to make a fire. There’s not much to it.” He made a move to pour the fluid.

“Wait a second,” I said. He paused and watched me jog over to one of the backpacks. I pulled out a small cloth bag with a
drawstring. The package fit in my palm as I returned.

“What’s that?” Nick asked, peering
with suspicion at my closed fist.

“It’s a flint and steel kit.” I opened my pal
m and pulled out the flat piece of flint and the accompanying steel. I handed them to Nick.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

I was unable to contain my surprise. I thought every guy knew how to make a fire with these tools. “You don’t know how to use them?”

I didn’t mean to sound condescending, but the look on Nick’s face told me
that’s exactly what I had done. He shoved them back into my hands.

“Why don’t you go make your own fire then, and I’ll handle this one the way I know how.”

Something inside me encouraged me to try again. “Well, I can show you how to do it.”

Nick glanced at me over his shoulder.

Interpreting that as a minor peak of interest, I continued, “It’s not the easiest way.” I nudged the bottle of lighter fluid with my foot to indicate the more obvious, straightforward method. “But it’s more satisfying.”

Nick still eyed
me warily. “You got my attention.”

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. One fight this morning evaded.

“So, to start with, we need better tender.” I took a couple steps towards the wooded area. I paused to look over my shoulder, catching Nick watching me. “You coming?”

He hesitated, looking around at
the campsite to see what everyone else was engaged in.

“What are you waiting for?” I asked Nick. “It will just take a minute. Nobody’s going
to think we’ve run off together or anything.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I caught myself.

We cringed simultaneously
.

“Don’t ever say that again,” Nick warned, marching behind me.

“Never,” I agreed. We walked quickly, striving to leave the awkward comment behind us.

It took a couple minutes to gather up the tender. Nick followed my lead, collect
ing dry pine needles, weeds, and dry moss from tree trunks. We put our small piles together into one, placing it inside the pit.

“Here’s what we do,” I explained, pulling out the flint and steel once again. I held the flint in my left
hand, with the sharp, thin edge pointing up, and the steel handle in my right. “You strike it a few times—”

I cracked the steel against the flint, wat
ching the sparks ignite. “And ideally, you want to be as close to the tender as possible so it catches the sparks. Here, you try it.”

Nick accepted them, unable to veil hi
s eagerness. I smiled to myself as he practiced striking the flint and steel just right. Tiny flickers of yellow light jumped off and away from his hands.

“That’s pretty cool,” he commented, still concentrating on the task.

“Ok, now just get lower to the ground.”

Nick crouched low. After a few cracks of the steel, the sparks ignited the tender, causing a thin layer of smoke to rise. I dropped to my knees and blew against the tiny flame. The tender crackled and
glowed a dim orange.

Nick helped me create a teepee with the twigs, hiding our kindling in its center. He blew on the flame once m
ore, slow and steady. His broad smile widened as the flame grew, blazing when it caught the twigs.

“How did you know how to do that?” Nick asked, still kneeling beside me.

I shrugged, realizing I took my knowledge for granted. “My dad showed me when I was young. He bought me this flint and steel set when I was ten, and I’ve been using it ever since.”

I caught a faint shadow slide across Nick’s face.
He was quick to look to the ground. I paused, watching him contain his thoughts.

“You
haven’t camped much, huh?” My obvious statement sounded stupid exiting my mouth. Why couldn’t I ever think of the correct thing to say in the moment?

Nick expression turned s
cornful.

I winced and prepared myself for the usual barrage of insults. However, his expression
softened, and he shook his head. He sat back on the log behind us. I joined him, reducing the distance between us.

“Might know a little more about camping if
my dad was around,” he muttered. His focus remained on the dancing flame.

“I’m sorry,” I said, following his gaze. “That must have be
en hard.” I held my breath, unsure of the ground we were treading on. “Do you miss him?”

Nick grimaced. “Can’t miss what you don’t know.” He tossed a stray twig into the fire. It hissed in response.

“I guess that’s something I’ve taken for granted,” I voiced aloud. Despite Dad not being around as a teenager, I valued my memories with him as a little kid.

“What was it like?” I asked, not daring to look at him in the eyes.

He snapped his head around. “Let’s get one thing straight—I don’t need you feeling sorry for me. It’s over—it’s done. Just forget about it.” He looked at his feet, his jaw clenching.

My c
heeks reddened. What did I think was going to happen? That he would pour out his heart and soul to me? I mean, this was Nick we were talking about. He was just a—

“Sorry.” The single word was subdued, escaping as a quiet mumble.

I tried not to let my jaw drop. That one word coming from his mouth was more shocking than any rude comment he’d ever said to me.

“Oh no,
it’s fine. It’s not my business, anyway.” My hands fidgeted. Nick glanced my way, his light brown eyes meeting mine for just a moment.

“
It was hard on my mom. I don’t know. I just don’t like to think about it, let alone talk about it.” His words were so soft that I almost had to lean into him to hear what he was saying.

“It’s ok. I know what that’s like.” I offered a small, uncomfortable smile. I was surprised when he returned it. Perhaps that encouraged me to risk my next question.

“And hard on you, too?”

Nick was silent while the question
seemed to bring about painful childhood memories. His voice was gruff in response. “Yeah. Hard on me, too.”

It took another minute, but he continued.

“There never seemed to be enough money. Even with the monthly check coming in from my so-called dad, my mom couldn’t keep up with rent. We kept moving around, staying with my mom’s parents for a while, then maybe my uncle’s place a few months later in a different city, then back to some crummy apartment. I was enrolled in too many elementary schools to count.”

“How
did you end up in Danville?”

“
My mom finished school and received her CNA license—you know, nursing stuff. There was a job opening in Danville and I was just about to start junior high. She figured it was the best time to make yet another move—but she promised she’d do her best to keep it permanent. And she kept her promise. We’ve been in Danville ever since.”

I nodded my head
in thought, piecing his story together. “Aaron told me you two hit it off as friends right away.” I waited to see what else he might divulge.

“Pretty much,” Nick
said, letting out a small chuckle. “During the first week of school, I got into some fights with some guys who thought they were real tough. Problem was, I believed I was tougher—even two against one. In reality, it turns out I was wrong. I was taking quite a beating when Aaron walked by. He jumped right in, no questions asked. That evened things out. I’d like to remember us as winning that fight—though we were all suspended, of course—but that just allowed Aaron and me time to hang out and get to know each other. And his mom liked my mom, so it all worked out in the end.”

“Danville was a good choice for you and Clara, then,” I concluded.

Nick hesitated. “Well, at first, I got into a little trouble. Aaron tried getting me to hang out with his jock friends, but it didn’t work out right away. Instead, I got sucked in to this other crowd and experimented with some stuff...it’s not important. But Aaron didn’t quit on me. He kept insisting I join some of the sports clubs with him after school, even though I’d never done much of that before. Turns out I could play ok—not like Aaron—but it was fun, and it was a better alternative than what I was using before.”

“C
an I ask you one more question?”

Nick
looked at me with a hint of caution, but he didn’t say no. So, I pressed on.

“What’s the hardest part about your mom marrying
my dad?”

He shrugged, but he was quiet as he took the time to think about it. “I guess, well, having to share my mom. Growing up, we only had each other, you
know? It’s not easy to see her so happy with your dad. And she liked you right away, too. She always wanted a daughter. I never liked that.”

His honesty surprised me, but that explained some of his animosity towards me.
That and the fact that I grew up with money, and he didn’t.

“How about you?” he asked, returning the question.

“Mmm...” I pressed my lips together, my head tilted towards the sky. “
You,
probably.”

I met his eyes. We both felt the blunt impact of my words, recalling the embedded hostility between us. Curt laughter escaped our lips.

“Well. That’s straightforward enough,” he pointed out. “And true, I guess. I haven’t gone out of my way to make it easy.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “And I d
on’t deal well with change.”

“Me either,” he agreed. He scratched his head. “Huh. What do you know? We do have something in common.” He grinned. “Who would have thought?”

I laughed, amazed and baffled at our ability to hold a conversation. It was then that I felt a beam of curiosity boring into my head. I turned, catching four pairs of eyes watching us, each with raised eyebrows. Brooke and Aaron held a sleeping bag in each hand, gawking at us. Clara leaned into Dad, her mouth close to his ear in a whisper. The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile.

I cleared my throat. “Can we
...help you?”

That seemed to snap everyone out of thei
r obnoxious stares. The air filled with stuttered comments and sheepish expressions.

“No, no,”
Dad said, smiling as he busied himself with one of the packs. “Just wondering what you’re up to.” Everyone seemed to be awaiting our answer, their feigned nonchalance failing miserably.