Our Song (2 page)

Chapter Two

Becca

As I walk into the bunk room, I notice my sister has already claimed the only single bed in the entire room. Looking back and forth between the other three bunk beds, I’m not really sure what I’m going to do. I take a deep breath, step forward, and toss my bags on the bottom bunk farthest from my sister’s bed. I will take whatever tiny bit of pretend privacy I can get with her. Since I just got back from a volleyball retreat about 45 minutes before we left to drive up here, I didn’t get a chance to do my laundry. I grab my laundry bag and head to the utility room.

As I’m sorting my clothes into the darks and lights baskets, my sister pokes her head in. “If anyone comes looking for me, let them know I’m heading out to the dock to catch some rays.” I give her a quick once over, taking in her tiny string bikini and beach towel, and wish I felt comfortable doing the same with Asher being here. The weather is gorgeous right now, and if I had a body shaped more like hers, he might have appreciated me walking around in next to nothing like my sister is. She may only be 14, but I’ve even seen boys in my grade watching her when she comes to my games and meets. Sometimes I think it’s not really fair that she’s so pretty that people can’t help but stare at her. But when I get to thinking about it, I’m kind of glad that everyone isn’t constantly watching me. Especially since I broke things off with Trip.

“Sure thing,” I say, hoping she stays out there as long as possible. I’m just not in the mood to deal with her hanging around, interrupting, or making comments while I’m trying to feel things out with Asher.

Once my clothes are sorted, I dump the darks basket into the top of the washer. I dig around the cupboards above it until I find the detergent, pour it in as well, then start the machine.

Carrying my now-empty laundry bag down the hall towards the bunk room, I halt, holding my breath. Asher is in there, and I can see he’s in the process of choosing his bed for the week. I hold my breath, wondering what he’s thinking about, and what’s taking him so long to decide. He takes a hesitant step forward, and then slowly puts his bag on the top bunk…right above my bed. There were two other completely empty sets of bunks, and he chose to sleep above me instead. What does that mean?

Maybe I’m over-analyzing this. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. But for some reason, I’m crossing my fingers that it does.

***

After tossing my laundry bag into the laundry room, I head into the game room, because I’m not about to walk in there and have a discussion about where everyone is sleeping. I plop down on the loveseat, looking around at one of my favorite rooms in the whole cabin.

Not many people know this about me, not really even Asher, but I’m a closet gamer. Trip started to uncover this about me, and he gave me flack for it all the time…which made me hide it even more from everyone else. And I’m not just talking about video games. Board games, computer games, pool, cards, horseshoes, croquet…you name it, I’ve probably tried to play it at least once. There’s a 51” television, with an old school Nintendo, a Wii, an Xbox, and a Playstation 3 hooked up to it, along with all the fixings for Rock Band. A gorgeous dark cherry pool table, with dark green felt, sits in the back of the room, next to the wet bar. And my favorite part…there is a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling shelf of board games and books. I know from church lock-ins that Asher is a pretty good chess player, and has a good time playing Twister. But I’m not sure if he’ll be interested in playing anything, just the two of us. So I get up and head over to the book half of the shelving unit.

As I look over the titles on the shelf, running my fingers along the spines, Asher walks in. I turn to face him, and he’s looking at the floor, grinning and shaking his head. “What?” I ask.

“It shouldn’t surprise me that the first thing you do when you get to a cabin, that’s on a lake, where you could be canoeing, fishing, sunbathing, or playing cards, board games, or video games with other people, is look for a book that you can read by yourself.” He’s still smiling, and I’d like to smack that grin right off his face.
Let’s see how well you play with others
.

“I’d
love
to play a game with you,” I say in a sickeningly sweet voice, trying to cover up my nerves. I look down to pick a non-existent piece of lint from my shirt. “I just wasn’t sure what you were interested in doing this afternoon, or who you’d want to do it with.”

“Oh, there are lots of things I’d like to do with you.”

My eyes snap to his face. Apparently that little speech out in the car was meant to encourage me to continue to spend time with him.

“Wha-what did you have in mind?”

“Well, let’s have a look.” He walks toward the shelves filled with board games, studies each game, and then he bends over—
would you look at that tush?
—and grabs one that I can’t see from where I’m standing. When he turns around, his smile wide, he’s holding Don’t Break the Ice.

“What on earth do you want to play that child’s game for?” I don’t need Asher knowing that I am a master at this game. It’s kind of embarrassing to know that you’re really good at something that three-year-olds like to play.

“Well, I’m pretty good with a hammer, you know.” He winks as he holds the box out, silently asking me if I’ll join him in this game. And he’s not kidding about his hammer work. I remember watching him last summer pounding nails on the Habitat for Humanity project we worked on.

I’m not sure if this is a good idea, but I grab the box from him and take it over to the coffee table. Opening it up, I can see that all the pieces are still here, even though the game is probably older than I am. I’m about to start setting it up when I notice that Asher hasn’t moved from his spot. I look up at him, and he’s staring at me, his jaw hanging open. “Are we going to play or not?” I ask, hoping I sound more confident than I feel.

He slowly walks over to the coffee table and sits down, cross legged, on the floor across from me. He has this little smirk on his face, and it’s driving me crazy, because he still hasn’t said anything to me. “What are you smiling for?” I ask.

“I just can’t believe you’re actually setting this game up, ready to play against this master hammer handler. Some people have even taken to calling me Thor.”

I almost give him some smack talk, letting him know he’s about to be smashed to smithereens…but decide to surprise him with my skills instead. I finally have the cute little polar bear secured in the middle of the ice and ask, “Would you like to begin, oh mighty Thor?”

The biggest grin spreads across his face. “Ladies first.”

“If you insist,” I say as innocently as possible. Boy, he is in for the most intense, brutal game of Don’t Break the Ice he’s ever played.

-----

Asher

Becca hesitantly picks up the hammer off the table. As she decides which block to knock out first, I say, “I can’t believe it’s our last year. How crazy is it that we’re seniors now? I don’t feel any different, but at the same time everything is changing. Are you excited?”

“I guess. Although I sometimes wish I could just be home schooled, and only come to school for music classes.” She does a little silent
Eenie, Meenie, Minie, Mo
action with her finger, then shrugs and knocks out the block in the corner immediately in front of her on the outside edge. It’s so cute that she doesn’t really know what she’s doing. I give her a little smirk and a wink as I take the hammer from her.

“Really? I mean, I get only wanting to come to school for music classes, but homeschooling? That doesn’t really seem your style. Besides, if you weren’t in humanities and calculus with me, who would I have to compete against for the highest score in the class?” I knock out one of the middle two blocks on the outside of my side of the board.

"Nobody," she says with a smile. However, it quickly disappears. "But I still wish I were homeschooled sometimes."

After I pass Becca the hammer again, she asks, “How do you decide which block to knock out?” She’s trying to change the subject, but as long as she keeps talking, I guess I’ll just roll with it.

“It’s a secret. I can’t share my strategy if I want to win.”

She sighs. “Well, I’m just not sure where to go from here. Would you give me a hint, just this once?”

I smile and shake my head. “No way. You agreed to this game, fair and square. Nobody forced you to play.” This, of course, is true, but I hope I’m not making her feel like she has to spend time with me.

“Fine. I guess I’ll just go with…this one.” She knocks out the other corner block on her side of the board. When she goes to hand me back the hammer, instead of grabbing the free end that she’s holding out to me, I grab her entire hand. Back in the fifth grade, my hands were already bigger than hers, but I didn’t realize just how much bigger they had grown. Hers must have stopped growing all together when she was 10 years old, because now my hand completely engulfs hers. Becca looks up at me, shocked.

“Are you sure you want to finish this game? There’s no shame in forfeiting,” I say, trying to give her an out.

Her brows come together as she looks down at the table. “Why would I forfeit?”

“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but it’s pretty obvious that you don’t have a clue what you’re doing. And I wouldn’t want to make you feel even worse when I make you drown that poor polar bear.”

She inhales through her nose, and exhales through her mouth as she sits up straighter and pushes her shoulders back. “No, no. Like you said, nobody forced me to play this game with you. I insist on finishing it.”

“Alright, but if I win, you have to worship at the altar of the almighty Thor. That means getting me food, cleaning up after me, doing my laundry before we leave, baiting my hook for me when we go fishing…and we will go fishing.” I give her another wink to let her know that I’m playing around. Mostly.

“And if I win?”

Hmm. “If you win, I will do whatever you want me to for the entire time we’re here.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Well, if you’re so eager to win, you’re going to have to let go of my hand and take the hammer so we can finish the game.”

-----

Becca

Asher’s gaze moves to our hands, and he almost immediately lets go of mine, as if he didn’t realize he was still holding it. He takes the hammer from me, and it looks like he’s confused for a moment. He shakes his head, as if it can clear his mind. So, it would seem not only that he still doesn’t know that I’m going to cream him, but now I’ve thrown him off his game.
Score 1 for me
.

Asher is staring intently at the board, with an unsure look on his face. He reaches the hammer over to a block on my side of the board, which is touching the middle block. This time, he’s a little more hesitant in his hammering. Once he gets the block free, and the bear doesn’t fall, he smiles again, handing the hammer back to me. He thinks he’s just made it difficult for me to win. But I know that I can still knock out a third corner without touching anything holding the middle block up. I make it look like I’m thinking REALLY hard, twisting my lips from side to side. Then reach over to the third corner. The polar bear doesn’t budge, but the two blocks touching the block I just dropped out start to slide down a bit.

I look up, about to hand over the hammer, when I notice Asher isn’t looking at me, but at the board. He’s starting to get concerned that he’s not going to win. A grin slowly spreads itself across my face, but then I quickly try to hide it, hoping he doesn’t notice. When he finally looks up at me, he asks, “How did you do that? How did you find the ONE block that wouldn’t knock out the middle, but also made it near impossible for me to win anymore?”

I try to keep an innocent expression on my face as I say, “Beginner’s luck?”

He slowly pulls the hammer from my hand, then goes back to searching the board for a way to win. As if that were possible. Watching the small movements of his eyes, and his hands, I can tell that he’s trying to visualize what will happen if he makes one choice or another. He does this when he plays chess, and it makes me start to quietly giggle. Before pounding out one of the blocks, Asher looks back up at me, puzzled. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just…you’re making the same face right now, trying to decide which block to knock out in Don’t Break the Ice, that you make when you’re trying to figure out your next chess move. And the hand movements too.” Stating it out loud makes me giggle even more.

“This is serious business, Becca. I want to win this little wager we’ve got going on. I mean, I know you are a fantastic cook, and I would love nothing more than to eat your food, have you bait my hook, and not have to clean up after myself all week.” His face is very serious, but I can see in his eyes that he’s laughing on the inside.

“I know this is serious business. And as much as I would love to cook for you, and all that jazz, I am very much looking forward to you having to do whatever I want for the week.” Although, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure what I would ask him to do for the rest of the time we’re here.