Last Chance Summer

by Shannon Klare

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Why do you think Grant deserves more than you?” Jess said. “Because he’s way better-looking or because he’s obviously more talented?”

  “You’re making me feel better by the second.”

  “My job isn’t to make you feel better. It’s to make myself a better human being, while trying to survive a summer at the dumbest camp in Texas,” Jess said. “Back to the subject. You and Grant. What gives?”

  “I thought I said I wasn’t talking about this.”

  “Well, you’ve got another two hours in this shift. Trust me when I say I can sit here and badger you about it until you talk, or you can willingly talk about it now,” she said. “A conversation won’t kill you.”

  “Why the sudden interest in my life?”

  “You kept me up until four a.m., lying over there sniffling all night,” Jess said. “You weren’t considerate enough to take your moping somewhere else, so I’m not going to be considerate enough to take my questions somewhere else.”

  “I wasn’t moping.”

  “Okay. Let’s recap, shall we? You walked in a little after midnight, trying and failing to close the screen door before the rusty hinges woke everyone up. Then you went to the bathroom and ran into a bed post on the way—”

  “That bed wasn’t there when I left.”

  “—then you knocked what sounded like a hair dryer off the bathroom counter. Then you plopped onto that creaky bed of yours. Oh, then you capped off your night by boo-hooing into your pillow while I sat there trying to keep Brie from snoring in my ear.”

  “That doesn’t mean I owe you an explanation.”

  “You owe me something,” Jess said. “An out-of-context detail. A play-by-play of the incident. I don’t even care at this point. I just need something to make my lack of sleep worth it. What happened last night? Did the pair of you break up?”

  “He and Loraine cornered me about something neither of them understands,” I said. “I told them to f-off and now I’m here. The end.”

  “Your attention to details is amazing.”

  “I don’t have to give you details. I don’t have to give you anything.”

  Jess nodded, returning her attention to her bracelet. “So have y’all talked today at all, or have you done the avoiding thing? I didn’t see him lurking outside the cabin this morning, so I’m guessing he’s MIA.”

  “Of course he’s MIA. He realized exactly what he was getting himself into and didn’t need anything else to stay away. We’re done. That’s it.”

  “I don’t claim to know anything about Grant, but I’ve talked with his guys enough to know he’s a stubborn hard-ass,” Jess said. “There’re legends about him. How he almost burned down the mess hall when he was a camper here. How he almost got himself kicked out for good for skinny-dipping in the lake. He doesn’t strike me as the type to just cop out because something got tough. There’s more to this.”

  “That’s it,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Explain it to me.”

  “No.” I let out a long sigh and stared at the canvas. “I’d rather sit here working on this painting than talk about anything involving Grant. I came out here for a reason. You’re messing it up.”

  “Fine. I’ll be quiet,” she said, putting her hands up. “Just one more thing first.”

  “What?”

  She paused, meeting my gaze solemnly. “I’ve been with a lot of families, Alex. I’ve been passed around. I’ve been in and out of so many homes I’ve lost count, but I’m still here. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, or why you think you’re not good enough, but you are the most badass counselor out here. Don’t let your screwups convince you otherwise. Or anyone else for that matter.”

  She tapped her fingers against the counter. “And I’ll be here if and when you need to talk,” she said, taking her bracelet with her. “Just bring some brownies with you.”

  She stepped away from the counter, shooting me a peace sign as she sauntered through the arts and crafts room. Out of all the people I thought could ever understand me, Jess wasn’t even on the radar. Yet here she was, proving me wrong.

  I returned to my canvas, trying to funnel my thoughts into the picture. Regardless of what happened between Grant and me, this conversation had left me with one thing: These kids weren’t their labels. They deserved a second chance.

  18

  Let It Out

  I left dinner that night, walking the path with my girls.

  My conversation with Jess had me focused on getting to know these campers for who they were, not what their attitudes or stupid choices decided they would be.

  “You’re telling me Jess managed to do this whole thing by herself?” Brie said, glancing at her wrist.

  Despite the occasional mix of colors and flaw in the pattern, I had to give credit where credit was due. Jess left our conversation and finished up the bracelet with zero help from me. It was better than anything I could make. Brie seemed to like it too.

  “Why are you acting so shocked?” Jess said, nudging her in the side. “It’s like you don’t know how insanely awesome I am at pretty much everything.”

  “Okay, but you’re the furthest thing from a crafter I’ve ever seen,” Brie said. “Didn’t you say you’d rather die a million deaths than do another thing of sand art? I could be trippin’ but I’m pretty sure that was you.”

  “This isn’t sand art,” Jess said. “It’s bracelet making, and I’m a boss at it.”

  We stepped onto cabin two’s porch, still talking as the guys from Grant’s side lingered outside their door. Curfew would be later on in the night, after another whole-group amphitheater hangout. If I was lucky, it wouldn’t last long. I hadn’t seen Grant all day, and being forced to be in the same place was the last thing on my want-to-do list.

  “How long we got to get ready?” Brie said, pausing outside the door. “Enough time to curl my hair and do my makeup, or do I have to pick one?”

  “We’re supposed to be there right after dark, so you’ve got forty-five minutes. Whatever you squeeze into that time frame is up to you,” I said.

  “Makeup it is,” she said.

  I grinned and shook my head as she crossed the threshold, then scanned the outside of the cabin for any indication of Grant. He deserved better than me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t miss him. I could’ve used him today, when the world seemed to be against me, and I was once again on my own. But I could move on. I had to.

  I crossed the porch and stepped into my side of cabin two, beelining for my bed, where my sketchbook lay on the plastic bin beside it.

  “You sketching again?” Jess said, sitting on her bed.

  “I started working on something about a week ago. I haven’t had much time to finish it,” I said, shrugging. “Since I had to leave that canvas in arts and crafts, it’s the best I can do.”

  I flipped through the pages, bypassing the torn and tattered ones from my earlier counselor days. Those aggressively scribbled pages were a reminder of how bad things could get, when I kept my walls up and refused to let anyone in.

  “Question,” Brie said, pulling my attention from the sketchbook. “What are our plans for the Fourth of July? I know we’ve got a little under a week, but I like to pre-plan my outfits. I need to save the cutest one for that day.”

  “You act like it’s a huge event,” Jess said.

  “Not as big as the camper talent show, but close.” Brie looked at me again, brow arched. “Plans? You got ’em?”

  “Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “Loraine hasn’t finished the schedule yet. I won’t get it until the first.”

  “So you have zero intel.”

  “Um, I’m pretty sure I saw in the counselor cabin that we’re doing something at the lake. Fireworks, maybe? I don’t know.” I grabbed a pencil from the bin beside my bed, mulling over where to go with the picture.

  After trying for another thirty minutes to make something out of the mess of lines,
I sighed and closed the book. Through the window on my right, the sun had disappeared beneath the trees. Dusk was here. Regardless of what I wanted, seeing Grant was imminent.

  I slumped off the bed, letting out a long sigh as I faced my girls. My stomach was already spinning with anxiety, flip-flopping over things I couldn’t change.

  “We’ve got about five minutes before we probably need to head out,” I said. “If you aren’t done getting changed, doing your makeup, whatever, get it done or I’m leaving without you.”

  “I feel like that’s directed at me,” Brie said, staring at me from her spot on her bed.

  That was a fair guess. Makeup palettes, foundation, and a handful of beauty products were strewn across her buffalo-plaid comforter, and she wasn’t even halfway done with her eyebrows. If anyone was going to run us late, it was cabin two’s makeup guru and her never-ending quest for the perfect brow.

  I crossed the cabin, shooting her judgy eyes as I stepped outside. My breath caught in my throat, the sight of Grant leaned against the rail making me pause.

  He glanced my way for a fraction of a second, a pained look crossing his face. I betrayed him by keeping my secrets my own. He knew it. So did I.

  I brushed a hand through my hair and passed him, silent as I headed for the steps. He wore a pair of athletic shorts and a loose-fitting Texas Tech shirt. The brim of his hat shadowed his eyes, but I could feel him staring. Those hazel eyes drilled into me as I hit the ground, the notes of his body wash lingering across the porch, making it harder and harder to distance myself.

  “Hey,” he said, the line in his lips sharp and his voice so deep it was almost inaudible. “You planning on talking to me anytime in the next day, or should I chalk this up to a loss and move on?”

  “You don’t want me to talk to you,” I said, still walking. “Just leave me alone.”

  “So then that’s it?” he said. “You get to explain to me how you’ve done this terrible thing and I don’t get to say anything in response?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Then you’re a coward.”

  I turned, my blood heating at the insinuation. “You don’t know what I am!” I said. “And you don’t get to call me anything when you have no idea how hard it was for me to cut this thing off.”

  “Then why did you?” he said, crossing the porch. “Because you’re afraid of what I think, or because you’re afraid of what I have to say? You don’t get to run away and hide just because you think you know what’s best for everyone. That isn’t fair.”

  “I’m not talking about this right now.”

  “Why? Are you afraid you’ll make a scene?”

  “No, I’m afraid you will,” I said. I glared at him. The intensity in his voice set my nerves on edge. “I owe no one any explanation other than the one you got last night. I’ve said my part and I’m done. I’m out. Okay?”

  “No, it isn’t okay. It’s a cop-out, Alex.”

  He landed on the dirt and his hand wrapped around my wrist. When I faced him, his look of disappointment burned through me. I did this. I did all of it.

  “I’m asking you for one conversation to figure out how in the hell we went from caring about each other to you acting like my opinion doesn’t matter,” he said. “That’s it. And I don’t mean the kind of conversation where you tell me all these horrible things and decide I don’t get a say in how I feel about them. I do get a say. I’ve earned that right.”

  “You’ve earned nothing.”

  “The hell I haven’t.” He let go of me, shaking his head as he paced the dirt. “From the moment you walked into this camp, I have done nothing but try to figure out a way to get past your wall of sarcasm and get to know the real you. I made an effort to figure out who you are, how you operate, and I ended up being the dumbass who accidentally caught feelings for someone who is too scared to let me in because they’re afraid I’ll judge them. That’s not me, Alex, and you don’t get to push me away because you think you know how I feel. I get a say in that.”

  “You don’t get a say,” I said, “because you don’t know me, Grant. You know this girl, the one who acts like she has her shit together, but that’s not who I am. I’m a mess. I’m literally doing everything I can to hold myself together, but I can’t do that with you. You screw with my head.”

  “And you don’t think you screw with mine?” He froze in his spot, his hands on his hips. “You’re literally the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met. You waltzed in here with no experience and no clue what you were getting yourself into, and somehow I ended up being the one who got caught in the shuffle.

  “That version of you that you claim is so screwed up has nothing to do with the girl I fell for. I care about you, Alex. I care about the girl I’m falling for. The one who puts me in check whenever I’m out of line. The one who makes me laugh when my temper is on the edge. You walk into a room and all I want to do is be around you, and you don’t get to discredit that because you think the things you did have an impact on my feelings toward you. Your past is your past, just like mine is mine. That’s it. That’s where it ends.”

  “I killed someone, Grant. It doesn’t just end.” Tears streaked my face, hot against my skin. “You can stand there and tell me that none of this matters, but that does. That is a piece of me I have to live with, a piece I chose. You didn’t choose that path. That path was chosen for you. You. Deserve. More.”

  “I want you,” he said, his hand resting beneath my chin. He rested his head against mine, the warmth of breath grazing my skin. “Did you force the keys into her hand and tell her to get behind the wheel?”

  “What?”

  “Did you?”

  “No, but I—”

  “Did you give her the alcohol?”

  “I let her drive,” I said, the words leaving me in a sob. “I got so caught up in what I had to lose that I lost sight of what we were doing. I was supposed to have her back. It’s on me that she isn’t here anymore. She could’ve been here if I—”

  “She made the choice to get into that car,” he said, his hand cradling the back of my head. “That’s on her, Alex. It isn’t on you.”

  “It isn’t that simple.”

  “It is that simple. People make mistakes. Things happen and there are consequences. You’re human. We’re all human, and the longer you sit here and beat yourself up about what you could or couldn’t control, the more damage you’re causing. You have to let yourself heal. Get past this, because what you’re doing right now is going to destroy you.”

  I swallowed thickly, my breath choked by sobs and emotions I never handled.

  “I can’t do this,” I said, clutching my stomach as my lungs refused to work. “I let her die.”

  “Then we’ll figure it out,” he whispered against the crown of my head. “But we’re doing it together.”

  19

  Last Chance

  “I can’t believe that happened,” I said as the swing in the pavilion rocked back and forth, creaking against the dark. My emotions were depleted, leaving me numb. Empty. But I’d survived the devastation of the truth. I’d made it out the other side.

  I inhaled, my body shaking as my lungs filled with air. I hadn’t cried like that since Nikki died. I hadn’t let any of those emotions take a handle on my brain and just destroy me. I had tonight. In front of cabin two, with a group of campers looking on and Kira waiting in the wings to swoop in and take over.

  She was with them now. Loraine would be here soon too, wondering where I was and what was going on. Waiting to give me some inspirational talk I really couldn’t stomach.

  “I think it was a good thing it did,” Grant said, his arm warm against my shoulder. His fingertips raked the skin of my arm, leaving goose bumps behind. “There really isn’t a right way to deal with it, but if you don’t handle those emotions, they’ll catch up with you.”

  “Like yours caught up with you?”

  He nodded, his head resting against mine. He was silent for a minute
as his long legs rocked the swing back and forth.

  “It took me a good five or six months for it to sink in,” he said. “Getting news like that isn’t easy for anyone, but none of us were expecting to see a cop car roll up. I didn’t expect to be sitting on a couch with my mom, listening to them explain how it happened. Why it happened.

  “I knew what they were saying and everything, but that didn’t make it real,” he said. “I think I sat in that living room for weeks, waiting for him to stroll through the door. Waiting to see his smile. Waiting to hear his commentary on ESPN’s NCAA basketball report. I just sat there waiting for him to come back, but he never did.

  “It wasn’t until the first basketball game of my eighth-grade year that I actually realized he wasn’t coming back. My mom was by herself in the stands, looking lost in a crowd of families all there to support their kids, and he wasn’t there. He wasn’t relaxing in his stadium seat. Wasn’t analyzing our opponent, or trying to give me a critique on my jump shot. And that was the moment I got angry. That was when it all went downhill.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “Um, at first I did everything my mom wanted me to do,” he said. “She thought I could go to a handful of family therapists and grief counselors, and they would help me sort out my feelings, but the more she pushed them at me the more pissed off I got. None of them realized how I felt. None of them had ever been there before. So, realizing I was pretty much on my own, I found a different way to deal. Drugs. Stealing. Anything I could do that would keep me distracted from everything I wanted to forget.

  “Eventually, those distractions caught up with me. I got caught trying to buy some stuff from a dealer who was actually an undercover cop. He went after me and I ran. I was scaling a fence when he finally caught me. He pulled me off and I hit the concrete hard enough I broke my arm, but it didn’t matter. I kept fighting him anyway.”

  “That’s how you ended up here, isn’t it?”