Taking Flight (6 page)

“Not a farm girl. Okay.” I wrinkled my nose. “But her name’s Tiffany. Does she wear all pink and carry around a Chihuahua?”

Cammie rolled her eyes at me again. “No. She’s our school’s head cheerleader, though.”

I mimed a gag. “Okay, no. Sorry.”

She looked offended. “
I’m
on the cheerleading squad too, you know.”

“Voluntarily?” I asked, just to annoy her. I could tell by her expression that it’d worked.

“Yes, of course. And all my friends are.” She turned away from me and went back to brushing her horse, and I could tell I’d frustrated her. It struck me then how little I knew about her, even though we’d made relatively easy conversation today.

I was silent for a moment, still keeping a few good feet in between the horse and myself. Cammie stopped brushing him and moved to do something with his hooves that involved scraping with some sort of pick; I couldn’t see her actions clearly from my position, and there was no way I was getting any closer to the horse.

Finally, I asked her, “So why do you like cheerleading?”

She took a moment to answer, but when she did, it was simply with a shrug of her shoulders and an, “Oh, I don’t know. I guess it’s kind of fun sometimes. My mom was a cheerleader when she was younger too.”

“So is that what you do in your free time? Just go to cheerleading practice? Do you have any other pastimes?” I was curious now if she’d admit to her drawing hobby. She’d certainly wanted to cover it up last night. I wondered if even her own family knew, or if she’d gotten the briefcase somewhere else.

She straightened up, done with the hooves, and arched an eyebrow at me. “Why the third degree? Suddenly I’m fascinating to you?”

I suppressed a frown. “I’m just trying to get to know my roommate.”

She stared at me, chewing at her bottom lip. She looked like she was thinking hard about something. “You really wanna know what I do for fun?” she finally asked.

“Well, I’m not gonna die if I don’t get my question answered, but it beats talking to your dad about whether or not I cry myself to sleep every night,” I countered, folding my arms across my chest. She looked satisfied with that answer.

“Okay. I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

She hurried away into the stable before I could reply, leaving me here with the tied-up horse, who snorted loudly and pawed at the ground when she’d gone.

It was less than a minute later that she returned with several large contraption things in her hand. The only one I recognized was a saddle, but that was enough for me to get the idea. “No way in hell,” I protested, taking a step back.

She smiled at me knowingly. “It’s only scary until you get up there.”

“Bullshit.” I shook my head. “I’m not doing it. This is totally not what I had in mind when I asked what you did for fun.”

“I own a horse. What did you expect?”

I scowled at her even as she moved to suit up Aerosmith. “Good point. But yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” she recited. “Besides, the horseback riding isn’t even the point. I want to show you something.”

“You want to show me something,” I echoed, disbelieving. “Why do we need the horse for that?”

“To get there,” she replied simply.

“Why do you want to show me something? What makes you think I’m worthy of this something?” I argued. “I’ve known you less than a day.”

“Because,” she told me easily, “I like you.” She finished with Aerosmith and shot me a small smile. “I think you’re probably gonna be my favorite person we’ve ever had, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, and then shook my head, dismissing her compliment. “Okay, as flattering as that is, you don’t even know me. What makes you think you’re gonna like me best?”

Her small smile morphed into a grin then, and she replied, “Because you got out of bed on the first day.”

*   *   *

“I’m a failure
,” I thought wryly as I reached for Cammie’s hand and gripped it tightly.
“A certifiable, bona-fide failure. I might as well just convert to Christianity and start dating boys now. I am weak sauce. No backbone. No spine. Worthless, pushover, doormat—”

“Swing your leg over!” Cammie instructed, and then pulled harder on my hand. I obeyed, and suddenly I was sitting in the saddle behind her while she gripped the reins and kept Aerosmith steady. “You did it!”

“Yay me,” I replied weakly, trying hard not to look on the ground or to think about the fact that a few-inches-thick saddle separated me from touching a horse.

“Wrap your arms around my waist,” Cammie told me, and I blinked at her back.

“Huh?”

“You’ll fall otherwise,” she replied. “Lock your hands together too.”

“Oh. Okay.” I scooted forward and followed her instructions, overly aware of how close we were sitting in the saddle. I felt more uncomfortable than I’d felt in years, and I was sweating bullets now. It’d gotten hot out quicker than I’d thought it would.

“We’ll start off slow. Let me know if you get scared.”

“I’m already scared. God, I don’t even know you,” I mumbled. She found that really funny for some reason.

“Just don’t panic, okay? I’ve been doing this for years. You’re safe with me.”

“How do I get down?” I realized with alarm, and Cammie sighed in front of me.

“Don’t worry about that yet.”

“Yet?! Cammie, I’m from Los Angeles, in case you haven’t noticed. I feel like I’m riding an alien.”

She started laughing again. “Aw! You’re gonna hurt his feelings!”

“Sorry if I’m a little unconcerned about that at the moment.” I was momentarily distracted when the horse started moving, and immediately gripped Cammie tighter. I wasn’t worried about the closeness anymore; I was terrified.

“You’re okay,” she told me quietly, and released one of the reins briefly to pat my hand. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying to distract myself.

“Out to the woods,” she explained. “See them, ahead?”

I looked up and spotted the cluster of trees in front of us. “Why there?”

“Because what I’m showing you is in there.”

“Are you a serial killer?” I asked her, which made her chuckle.

“That’s what happened to the last girl,” she confirmed. “She was never seen again.”

“At least her family was relieved,” I played along, but Cammie sounded serious when she replied.

“What makes you say that?”

I considered her question. “Well, people send their kids here because they’re problems, you know? They don’t want to deal, so they give them up.”

“I don’t think that’s it. Besides, Dad says you’re here because his judge friend from college sentenced you to a stay here over attendance issues, knowing Dad would be able to help you. Your parents didn’t have any say.”

“Yeah, but I could tell,” I told her. “I guess maybe he- they, I mean, felt a little bad, but they were still ready for me to go.”

“I’m sure they love you.” She paused. “And that they’d be sad if your new family had you axe-murdered in the woods near their home.”

I forced a laugh and went silent after that, thinking about why I’d just covered up that my mom was gone. I’d known I didn’t want anyone to know who my mom was, but now I realized I didn’t want them knowing she’d passed away, either. That knowledge I was content to have stay between David and myself. I didn’t want pity, and that was the only thing I’d get from Cammie, Wendy, Scott, or anyone else. And I didn’t want them blaming her for my problems.

There was a worn path that already wound through the trees, and we followed it for long enough that I lost track of time, although I suspected it only took so long because I refused to let Cammie tell Aerosmith to go any faster than a walk. Eventually, the path ended, and opened up into a grassy clearing, big enough for a few mack trucks to fit inside and in the shape of an oval. “Here we are,” Cammie announced, and Aerosmith slowed to a stop beneath us.

I didn’t say anything at first, more concerned with watching her dismount. She tied Aerosmith to a tree and then returned to help me. “Okay, Lauren, you just need to swing your right leg over and—”

“What if I just, like, slide off front-first?” I suggested, looking over the side of the horse with trepidation. “It’s too high to jump.”

“Don’t slide off that way; you just have to bend your knees and you’ll be fine,” Cam insisted quickly, but I was already working to get my legs hanging off of one side of the horse. Beneath me, Cammie sighed, and I heard Aerosmith whinny nervously beneath me. “You’re not listening to me.”

I managed to get my right leg over the horse, and sat sideways in the saddle, eyeing the ground beneath me. “Can I just slide off like this?”

“Well, you might as well, now,” she admitted, and stepped forward, beckoning to me. “Just make sure you slide rather than jumping. I’ll catch you.” She reached over and patted Aerosmith to try and calm him, then beckoned to me again. “Don’t worry; you’re not high up at all. It just looks that way from up there. On three, okay?”

I winced at the ground and nodded.

She counted me off. “One… two… three.”

I slid forward and Cammie gripped my arms, helping me stick the landing and then propping me up when I accidentally stumbled forward into her. My hat bumped hers, indirectly yanking at my hair. “Ow!”

“Shh—don’t scare him,” she retorted, rubbing at a spot on her head and fixing both of our hats. When I’d finally gotten myself together, she gestured to the clearing. “Anyway, here we are. Not much, I know, but I haven’t brought many people here so you should feel special.”

“Did everyone you’ve shown it to get to see it on the first day?” I asked, raising an eyebrow smugly.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s the second day, technically, and no. But it’s different; you’re living with me. If you ever need a place to think or be alone, I know it can get kind of crazy back there, so this is where I come. Sometimes alone at night to watch the stars.”

“That sounds dangerous,” I said.

“There’s no one here; we live in the middle of nowhere,” she pointed out. “And Aerosmith would notice if something was up, anyway. C’mon.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me to center of the clearing, where she sat down and tilted her head up toward the sky. I took a seat beside her.

“Why are you showing me this?”

She was quiet for a moment, and pulled up a few blades of grass with one hand. At last, she shrugged, avoiding my eyes. “I guess… things just get a little rough around here sometimes. I like coming here to get away and I thought you might like it too.” She shrugged again. “As for why I brought you here so soon… I know we seem like a stereotype. Our family. But when I was twelve, I slept in a bed a few feet away from a fourteen-year-old cocaine addict, you know? What we do isn’t easy.”

She looked at me, finally, and I stared back. I hadn’t considered that at all since learning I’d be coming here. David mentioned he’d been doing this for ten years. Cammie would’ve been seven years old, and Scott, ten.

“I still remember the first time we had a girl. I was nine, and she was thirteen. Dad didn’t give me any responsibility to watch out for her or anything, but that didn’t change how I felt when she told me she was just going to the bathroom and then relapsed and cut herself. The people that come here have issues, and I know that. And I know that you’re not just here for attendance. But God, those kids
hated
us. It took weeks for them to even have real conversations. You’re different. You’re out here with me on the first day.”

“I’m sorry I’m spineless,” I murmured, humbled by her story. “I meant to be more of a pain in the ass.”

“I don’t think it’s spineless. I think you just have more going on than we can see. Because we knew that that girl had a cocaine addiction, and we knew that the other one self-harmed. Or at least my dad knew, but I could tell the other kids had stuff going on, you know? But you seem perfectly normal to me. Maybe just a little disgruntled, but frankly, you’re kind of entitled to it.”

“Finally someone admits it.” I sighed with relief.

She forced a smile before continuing, “I know about the attendance thing, but I also know that can’t be the only reason you’re here. I don’t know what your other issues are, and I guess I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not, or if it’s scarier. But what I do know is that you’re out here, helping – even if I have to use that term very loosely for the time being – and that can’t be a bad thing. So I hope that while you are here, we can be friends. And this clearing is my olive branch to you.”

She offered me another smile; this one was sincere. “I hope you decide to make an effort while you’re here, Lauren.
”

Chapter Four

I spent most of that Saturday with Cammie after our trip to the field. She talked for most of it, telling me about life in Collinsville and about her family. She told me that her mother was born on a farm but moved up to Illinois when she was a teenager, which was where she eventually met David. Wendy’d always wanted to go back to farm life, and it’d been her idea to move to Collinsville and start a new life and family there after David got his degree in Psychology. So they compromised; they’d live on a farm, and David would run his practice at home as a side job while counseling students at the local high school. And that’s what they’d done ever since.

She told me more about Scott too. He’d been dating Jill since their senior year of high school, and they’d gotten engaged recently. After they got married, they planned to move into a place nearby, and Jill would raise their kids while Scott helped out on the farm and worked on cars for a living. That was what he was in school for: to become a mechanic.

I noticed that what she didn’t talk about, however, was herself. We were similar in that way. Closed-off, secretive. And although we were getting along, especially after what Cammie shared with me back in the clearing, it seemed that she’d reached her divulgence limit. Now there was definitely a sense of guardedness from both of us, like neither of us wanted to give too much away. For me, it was because I knew I planned to make changing myself difficult for the Marshalls in hopes that I’d get out of Georgia relatively unscathed. But I didn’t know what her reason was.

After another admittedly fantastic dinner from Wendy, David wanted to talk to me again. So we spent another half-hour at the dinner table, him analyzing me while I droned on and on about how my day was okay, the horse was okay, Cammie was okay, everything was
okay
. It was my way of giving nothing away. I didn’t want him to know that my day wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be, that the horse was terrifying, that Cammie was sweet and a little confusing, and that everything else totally and completely sucked.

Eventually, church came up. I drew the line in the sand there. “Listen. I want to be honest with you. I didn’t plan on even leaving my bed today, but I did. But tomorrow’s different. I’m not religious.”

David was annoyingly accepting of that. “I understand. You made a great effort today, actually. More than we’re used to. I think it’s fair that if you don’t want to go to church tomorrow, you shouldn’t have to.”

“I’m never going to want to go,” I said, not backing down. “Really. Never.”

He just nodded again. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

“I won’t,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied, and then changed the subject. “I’m just glad to see you’re getting along well with Cammie. Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve seen one of our visitors click so quickly with Cammie
or
Scott. She seems to really like you.”

“She’s okay,” I told him simply. “Can I go now?”

“Sure.” And he let me.

I took a long shower after that. I hadn’t gotten particularly dirty during the day – although my shoes were completely ruined – but I definitely felt dirty.

By the time I was changed into pajamas and back in Cammie’s room, she was in the same place I’d found her last night: in bed with her Bible. I realized we’d apparently have a nightly routine in here together, so I got my mp3 player out. I was halfway under the covers when she finally acknowledged me, looking up from her Bible with her head tilted vaguely to one side.

“Lauren?”

I pulled a bud out of my ear and lifted an eyebrow, looking over at her. “Yeah?”

“Are you really not religious?”

Great. So we were going to have
this
conversation. “I’m not,” I confirmed. “Did your dad tell you?”

“He just came up while you were in the shower. He told me you didn’t want to come to church tomorrow. If you stay here, I have to stay back with you.”

“Why? I don’t need a babysitter,” I protested, but I knew what her response would be before she even spoke. Admittedly, it had crossed my mind to use the phone tomorrow if they all left without me. I just needed to hear a familiar voice.

“We don’t leave people here alone,” she told me. “So you don’t believe in God at all? In anything?”

“No,” I said shortly. I tried to go back to listening to my music, but she didn’t let me.

“How?”

I stared at her. “What do you mean, ‘how?’ I just don’t. Can you explain why you believe there is a God?”

“Well…” she trailed off for a moment, “I guess it’s just a feeling I get sometimes. Like someone’s watching over me and out for me. Keeping me safe. You don’t feel that?”

I shook my head, not looking at her as I scrolled through my music library using my thumb. “No, never. I guess it must be nice to believe someone cares about you, though.”

She was silent for a while after that. When I finally looked over at her, she was back to reading her Bible, but her mouth was set in a small frown, and her eyebrows were furrowed. I got an explanation for that when she eventually spoke up again. “Do you really think that no one cares about you?”

“Of course they do,” I responded instinctively, thinking mostly of Caitlyn, and, more notably, not at all of my dad. “I guess it’d just be easier to feel it on the inside, is all.”

There was another long silence. Cammie turned a page of her Bible, and then cleared her throat. “I’ve never met an Atheist before,” she admitted.

I glanced at her briefly, hiding a smile. “I’ve never met a girl named Cameron before.”

*   *   *

I stuck to my guns about church. Wendy, I could tell, was disappointed, but David stayed true to his word and simply had Cammie stay behind while he drove Wendy and Scott to church with him.

It didn’t take me long to realize there wasn’t much to do at the Marshall’s farm, given that I wasn’t allowed internet access other than for homework and that cable television meant only fifty or so channels, some of which were geared only toward Southerners. I slept in after the whole ordeal of turning down church, and once I’d woken up again, I entertained myself by watching a few really uncomfortable local commercials before Cammie plopped down next to me on the living room couch and asked, “Is there anything in particular you wanted to do today?”

I was surprised by her hospitality. Cammie wasn’t the type who was happy to get out of reading the Bible or going to church. It was very obvious that she liked being religious, and she liked going to church. I imagined she was pretty disappointed in having to miss out, so her asking me about my own preferences was out of left field for me.

She’d been nice to me so far, so I tried being nice to her. “Um, I don’t know… is there anything you like to do?”

She considered my question. “Well, we have to drive about a half an hour if we want to get anywhere close to the sort of area you can kill a day exploring, but there are some cool places around town. Local restaurants and stuff. And we don’t have a movie theater, but there is a place for drive-ins nearby. That can only be done at night, though, of course. Other than that… maybe the park?”

“You have a car?” I questioned, arching an eyebrow.

She grinned. “No. But I know where Scott keeps his keys.”

“Wait, we can do that?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s just a trip into town, right?” I raised an eyebrow at her, and she added, hastily, “Maybe we should just try to beat my family back here, is all. Just in case.”

And just like that, we were on our way into town, Scott’s mud-covered pickup truck rolling over bumpy roads as trees passed by outside my open window.

For a moment, I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and forgot about where I was, and even who I was with. For those few seconds, I was in Caitlyn’s car, and we were on our way to the beach, the sun in our eyes and the wind in our hair. No responsibilities, no one forcing us to do anything we didn’t want to do. No five months of farm work in a small town across the country. No David Marshall or his family.

Cammie turned on the radio and I opened my eyes, looking over at the dial even as she turned the volume up on a country song I didn’t recognize. I wondered if she’d forgotten I didn’t like country music.

I looked to her, next. Strands of her blonde hair whipped back and forth in the wind coming in through her window, and she had both hands on the steering wheel while a pair of sunglasses covered her eyes. The sun was bright and shining directly onto us, and I could see a few freckles on her face that I’d been too preoccupied to notice yesterday.

She glanced at me, and I looked out my window hastily, wondering if I’d been watching her long enough to have crossed over into staring territory. I heard her turn the music down a moment later.

“So did you leave anyone special back home?” she asked, catching me completely off-guard. I shocked myself by thinking of Caitlyn first, before I finally pulled myself together enough to reply.

“Um… define ‘special’,” I said, trying to avoid answering without having time to think it through first. Cammie had taken my lack of religious beliefs better than expected, but lesbianism was an entirely different issue. I wanted to choose my words carefully.

She laughed at my response and gave me a knowing look. “Oh. Okay.”

I waited for her to say more, but it seemed our conversation was over for her. “Wait, what does that mean?”

She smiled through a shrug. “I don’t know; I guess… it makes sense that you’d be the type to not settle down with anyone.”

“Why? I’m a ‘type’ now?” I asked, more than a little offended.

“I didn’t mean it like that, of course. It’s just…” she hesitated, and then glanced to me knowingly. “I mean, c’mon. You’re
really
pretty. I’m sure guys are really into you, right?”

I stared back at her, completely baffled at where she was going with this. “So what if they are?” I deflected, and she laughed again.

“So you’re totally that girl! I bet you hate commitment, don’t you? You’re like the bad girl who doesn’t care what anyone thinks but happens to be popular anyway, yet is way too rebellious to have a serious relationship with any of the guys who fall over themselves trying to get with her. Like… like a female version of Justin from
A Lifetime of Karma
.”

“What is it with you and Ryan Hansen?” I asked, scoffing to hide how disappointed I was. She was so,
so
off. “You have posters all over your walls. He just writes dumb, cheesy love stories.”

“Every teenage girl enjoys a good love story,” she argued. “And anyway, you didn’t tell me if I was right or not.”

I turned and rolled the window up, tired of trying to talk over the wind. Cammie, seeing what I’d done, mimicked the action and then shot me an expectant look as we pulled up to one of Collinsville’s few red lights.

“Well?”

I was silent for a while. The red light turned green, and Scott’s truck lurched forward. I looked at Cammie again. “How about you tell me whether or not you think you were right when it’s been long enough that we actually feel like we know each other?”

She looked amused by the idea, but nodded nonetheless. “That sounds fair. Are we turning this into a bet?”

“It wouldn’t work as a bet,” I said. “It’s totally subjective on your part. All you’d have to do is say you still think you’re right, even if you didn’t, and you’d win.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” She pulled into the parking lot of our destination: a local burger joint she’d recommended. The car slowed to a halt and we unbuckled our seatbelts. Cammie turned in her seat to face me. “I guess that means you think I’m wrong, then?”

“A knack for accurate first impressions, you do not have,” I confirmed. “Way off.”

She eyed me for a moment, analyzing me in a way that was more than enough to convince me she was her father’s daughter. “Okay. So no bet. But why don’t you tell me what you think of me, then? Let’s see if you can do any better.”

“Fine,” I agreed. It seemed easy enough. I looked her up and down for a moment, and she stared back at me almost defiantly. I smirked. “Okay. You said you’re a cheerleader, so you’re probably pretty popular. But not
too
popular… just enough so that every now and then a guy asks you out. But you turn them down because you’re saving yourself.”

She rolled her eyes at that, taking offense to it for some reason. “Oh, c’mon. You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Like how?”

“Like... in that condescending tone. Plenty of people wait.”

“So I’m right, then?” I guessed, and she shook her head at me in disbelief. I ignored her and pressed on. “You don’t have a rebellious bone in your body, you do everything your parents say, you’re a straight-A student with
maybe
a couple of B’s every now and then, and you love it here in Collinsville because like every popular kid, you love high school and you pretty much have your entire life together here… or at least you feel like you do. And you never want to leave. Oh, and you never curse, of course, because that wouldn’t be very lady-like.” I took a deep breath. “There. Done. Did I cover everything?”