The Camp (8 page)

“Now, Mr. Thomas, if you’ll follow me, I’ll get you settled in.”

Smeeds helped Ed into the raft, instructing him on how he should sit center-bow on the wooden seat.

“Hey, where are Cindy and Frank?”

“I can’t tell you about Frank, but the word is, Cindy got hung up with some dispute over a delivery price increase. Everything in her store is trucked in—just like every other store. It’s just that we’re at the end of the line and when they bring things up here, there are no other stores to defray the cost.”

Within minutes of Ed sitting, two other men arrived, both wearing wet suits. But they didn’t look the part. Smeeds was tall and trim, the other two looked out of shape with big stomachs, sloping shoulders, and lily-white hands.

Ed’s first notion that something was wrong came when Frank didn’t show. Smeeds Said he’d gone to the store to get Cindy and some munchies and urged Ed to go ahead, saying that he was expected and that Frank would just hitch a ride with Cindy.
 

The second alarm went off as they pushed the raft into the water. Ed watched as the two newcomers stumbled and bumbled in.

“Hey, guys—shouldn’t I have a life jacket or something?”

Smeeds remained at the center handling the oars, looking grim.

The one with the stomach grinned at his companion. “What’s the matter? Can’t you swim?” They both laughed like the question was some kind of inside joke.

“Well, yeah. When does my training begin?”

The miscreant with the sloping shoulders pointed at a large outcropping. “Just the other side of that boulder.”

Ed looked around, but there was nothing to hang onto. There were several metal rings and a place that looked raw, perhaps from where something had rubbed. But there was no rope.

When they hit the first rapids, Ed slipped down off the seat in an attempt to lower his center of gravity.

“Hey, get back on your seat or you’ll throw the boat off.”

Boat. Throw the boat off. Ed wasn’t sure what was going on, he only knew he had to get out of the raft.

“Layton, I need to get to shore. I think I’m going to be sick.”

No matter how much he yelled, he couldn’t get Smeeds’ attention.

Big Belly came up and sat next to him. “I’m glad you got back up on your seat. It makes it easier.”

Sloping Shoulders sat on the other side.

Ed swiveled on his seat to look at each man. “Make what easier?”

Belly smiled and patted him on the back. “Helping you out of the boat.” For just a minute, Ed felt a wave of relief until he realized that they were headed for a huge hole, a place he’d seen the television rafters stay clear of, a place where the water swirled around at the bottom of a short drop in the river.

Then he was lifted off the seat and even though he was flailing his arms and screaming, was thrown into the hole.

Ed’s mind shifted gears from trying to understand why this was happening to him to emergency mode. Before the first hundred gallons of water drove him down, he had taken a gulp of air, and as he descended, he opened his eyes. The bubbles and churning water made it hard to see.
 

Then his feet touched bottom and he let himself drift down further. Squatting, he pushed with all his might. His lungs burned and felt like they might explode. Then there was light and air, but this time he took a mouthful of water with the air before he was driven down again. Back up, he could feel the water slosh in his stomach as he tried to swim. Another gulp of air and he was dragged down. Before he touched bottom, he was pushed back up, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t reach the surface.

His vision began to close in, but he refused to blow out the air. His lungs screamed orders to the brain, still he refused. The white bubbles and green rush of water were all black and white and he was seeing his environment through a pinhole as his irises begin to shut down from lack of oxygen.
 

His brain shut down and sent the oxygen, what there was of it, to his limbs and Ed felt himself drifting like a stick of driftwood. He lost control of his bowels and bladder and finally gave up the air he’d been hoarding. His eyes were big, but he could not see.
 

Somewhere in his oxygen-deprived brain, it registered that he was going to drown and at that moment he relaxed, surprised and relieved that there was nothing to do but wait.

The raft surged past the hole into calm waters. Layton pulled with the right oar while keeping the left oar out of the water, spinning the raft around.

The two men had unzipped their wet suits; Belly sat still, scanning the water with his gun.

“He’s dead. Nobody could hold his breath that long. Now put the fucking gun away.”

“Shut up and steer the boat. Cindy said to make sure.”

Layton shipped the oars. “If you shoot him, there will be a gunshot wound, and when they find him, all bloated but with a hole in him, they’re going to wonder what happened. And then the police will come snooping around. Now, put the fucking gun away.”

Belly looked over at the guide and reaching into the top of his open wetsuit, pulled out a large baggie, slipped the twenty-two in, and sealed it shut.

Rye was in the kitchen finishing a bowl of soup and about to bite into half a tuna sandwich when Claire walked in.

“How’d class go?”

She sat down and took up the remaining half of the sandwich. “Great. Tuna, my favorite. I’m starved.” She took a bite got up walked to the fridge and returned with a beer. “What you meant to say was how was Amy? And did I ask her if she’d had sex?”

Rye bobbed his head as he took another bite of the sandwich.
 

“Do we have oral sex?”

He spasmodically swallowed. “What?”

Claire grinned and pretended to examine her next bit. “Actually, ‘what?’ is what I said. Amy asked about the oral sex.” She took another bite.

Rye scrambled to think on his feet. “Why don’t we ask her along for the Illinois thing?”

She twisted off the beer cap. “So you can ask her more about her sex life?”

“No. I thought maybe to reestablish our friendly neutrality.”
 

Claire took a sip and slid the bottle across the table. “I’ll check in with Paul, but you invite her. I think it would seem strange if it came from me,” she said smiling.

Chapter Thirteen

Ellen hated driving with her mother. Dorothy was short and looked through the steering wheel instead of over it. She must have gotten her height from her father. Dorothy’s hands were always inches from each other at the top of the steering wheel. God, and when she turned—instead of hand over hand, she fed the steering wheel with one hand into the other.

Other parents drove more like Steven: hand over hand. Ellen stopped herself mid-thought. Why was she even using his name, the name of the boy who had ruined her life? She forgot about her mother’s driving and raged through the memories of the carnage his leaving her had resulted in. When she reached the topic of Camp Hiouchi, she hated her mother again.

“Tell me one more time why you surrendered your custody of me?”

Her mother dared not turn her head to even glance at her daughter for fear that a car might dart out in front of her at just that moment.

“Fifty-one percent. You are still my daughter. Mrs. Johnson says that for Camp Hiouchi to receive full state and federal benefits, I must sign over fifty-one percent custody for one year.”

Ellen folded her arms tight over her chest, scrunched her butt farther back against the seat. “Jesus Christ. One year, and I don’t even get summer vacation.”

“Ellen, please. We have already talked of this. One year to finish your education, perhaps one year to get un-mad. You would rather go back and talk with Mrs. Stafford?”

She could feel her ears burn at the mention of the Vice Principal.

“You will see. Hiouchi is a nice place.”

Ellen wanted to throw the folder Johnson had given her mother out the window. School five days a week. “Everyone at Camp Hiouchi works.” She said in her most nasal and sarcastic voice. “Tell me just one more time why I’m going to be working in the kitchen?”

“I signed you up for this because you can cook and the only other choice was maid and I was reminded of your room.” Dorothy chuckled at this.

“I don’t find any of this funny. These people who I don’t even know have complete control over my life.” She pulled a sheet out of the file folder and scanned it. “Says here that I have to attend group counseling five days a week. Oh my god. I have to attend private one-on-one counseling. Who are these people? If I refuse, will they lock me up in solitary confinement?” She looked down at the bottom of the sheet. “My own mother isn’t allowed to visit me for the first nine months. Mama, what have you done?”

By the time Dorothy guided the Subaru through the town of Grants Pass, she had decided not to stop for a pleasant lunch with her daughter. Both hands looked like she was on a white-knuckle ride at an amusement park as she gripped the steering wheel. For the first time since she had been called to the school, Dorothy admitted to herself that her daughter’s year at a camp for troubled teens might be a good thing for her, too.

They drove from a two-lane road maintained by the county to a narrow one-lane. When they came to a
 
‘Y’ in the road, Dorothy stopped.

“If I were driving, I’d know which way to go.”

Her mother turned off the engine.

“What are you doing? We’re in the middle of the road.”

Her mother was looking straight ahead. Maybe she saw something.

Dorothy spoke softly. “I have stopped because I will not see my daughter, my Ellen, for nine months.” When she turned her eyes were moist.
 

This was something Ellen had never seen in her mother and she began to cry.
 

“Please, this is not how I want to remember my Ellen.”

Ellen leaned across the console and hugged her mother. “Oh, mama. I’m so sorry.”

Dorothy started the car. “We go to the right.”

Ellen looked left. “What if we went that way?”

“Small store and restaurant. Mrs. Johnson says that if you are good, you may get to work there.”

They followed a hard-packed dirt road and passed a number of outbuildings. Some kids were walking past the door where they were given tools. Some looked up, and one gave Ellen the finger.

They circled a log house and parked behind it. Ellen got out, surprised when her mother did not.

The crunching of pea gravel drew her attention.

A tall woman wearing jeans and white sneakers to match her white blouse and scarf was striding in her direction, right hand outstretched. “Jane Johnson.” Ellen surprised herself when she turned to face her and took her hand. “Ellen Stulov.”

“Your mother has already seen the facilities. There is no reason for her to come in with you.”

Ellen turned briskly. “Mama, I love you.”

Jane dropped an arm over her shoulder and guided her around toward the building.
 

“That was really sweet. If you come with me, I’ll tell you why.

They walked through a short hall and past several offices.

Jane opened a door and ushered her in. “This is my place. Go on in and have a seat. I’m going down the hall for some coffee. Can I get you something?”

She couldn’t smile. “Thank you, no.”

Ellen took a seat in front of the desk and had just begun to look around when Jane returned. “Well, good. You just passed the first test.” She took a quick look around before moving to the business side of the desk, setting her mug of coffee in the center. “You didn’t trash the place.” She paused and Ellen said nothing.

“Fine, then. Do you know why I called that moment out there sweet?”
 

It was a rhetorical question and Ellen just shook her head in the negative.
 

“Because most of the young people that come here do not arrive with a parent. And if they do, it is in a rage. The air crackles blue with their language and just as often as not, the rage is shared by their parent. Very sad.” She slurped her coffee. “Sorry, way too hot.”
 

“I read your file, and it’s not sad. It says you’ve been living at home with your mother. Again, most of the young people here come to us from an abusive home or foster home. Some don’t have a home and arrive in a sheriff’s cruiser.”

Jane took another sip of her coffee. “Better. Do you have any questions?” She took a long sip. “Here at Hiouchi, everyone has a companion and I’m yours. Got a complaint, bring it to me. Happy, sad, mad—any emotion that bubbles up and might disturb your routine, you bring to me. We’ll sit right here and talk it out.”

Ellen was beginning to get the idea that Jane had delivered at least part of this lecture before.

“We have fifteen girls and fifteen boys here. The boys live across the river. Like I said, I’ve read your file and I know that it was a boy that caused you to have a lapse of judgment. I don’t want to hear about that relationship. But if you get an itch—and you know what I mean—scratch it any way you want, but don’t cross that river.”

They left the office and Ellen was given a complete tour. It took over three hours. Strange thing was that she was introduced to all the adults they met along the way, but none of the kids. She learned later that it was a sign of respect, that if the other girls wanted to meet her, they would seek her out during their free time.

Her cooking duties would be tested the very next day and if she passed the scrutiny of the chef, she would began cooking the day after.

They ended back in Jane’s office.
 

“I will be your one-on-one counselor and am the teacher. Your group counselor will be Mr. James. Because you are the oldest girl at Hiouchi, you will have a private room with its own bath.”

They were up again. Jane walked her across what reminded Ellen of a parade ground, over to her room. “I will be inspecting your living quarters each morning after your day has begun. Please leave it clean.” She opened the door to her room with a key and gave it to her. “Keep it locked at all times. I’m the only other person with a key.”