No Place Like Here

by Christina June

  Marcus sat up straighter and pushed his shoulders back. “Just tell your dad that. Easy.”

  If only. “It’s more complicated than that.” I had never just told my dad anything—any words I had for him were carefully selected, after mentally weighing all possible reactions.

  Marcus shook his head. “It’s not. You want something. You demand it. You get it. You just have to believe it will happen.” It sounded like something my dad would say. Marcus was so self-assured. I could tell he did believe that. I doubted he’d experienced much rejection in his life, besides the aforementioned internship.

  I sighed. “As nice as that sounds, I don’t think I could ever demand anything of anyone. Like I said, it still stings.”

  Marcus put his hands on my shoulders, massaging them. “Anything I can do to help you heal?”

  “You think you’re smooth,” I said, leaning into him just a bit. I couldn’t deny that I liked the heat building between us from his touch.

  “Am I?” he whispered in my ear.

  I stood up, shivers running down my spine. “The jury is still out. I’ll tell you when I’ve reached a verdict.” I smiled sweetly at him and then turned to leave. In one swift motion, that was too flawless to not have been practiced, Marcus stood, grabbed my hand, and spun me around, like we were dancing, so I ended up in his arms. My heart beat faster as I realized we were so close I could feel his warm breath on my cheek.

  “What do you think now? Did I convince you?”

  Sometimes I hated that I was so transparent. Tatum used to roll her eyes at me for being a shameless flirt with boys at school, and sure, that flirting had gotten me into more than a little trouble with my parents, but I couldn’t help it. I liked the way I felt when I did it. Like for once, I was in control. And I was never in control. So what if it was superficial? I wasn’t planning to marry any of them. Marcus included.

  “I may need just a little more persuading, counselor.”

  I knew he was going to kiss me. Boys like Marcus are like heat-seeking missiles. They see a friendly target and they launch. And right on cue, Marcus’ lips landed on mine. It had been so long since I’d been this close to someone; I lost myself in the moment. His kiss was confident and I matched mine with his—strong and teasing. He knew exactly what he was doing and I knew exactly what he was doing too.

  He pulled back and watched me, his skin alight in the flickering firelight. “You’re something else, Ashlyn.”

  It sounded like a compliment, so I took it. “Thanks.” I gently unwound myself from his embrace. “I need to go to bed. Lots of groups to check in tomorrow.”

  Marcus took my hand again, like he wanted to pull me back to him. “But I’ll see you . . .”

  “I’ll see you,” I said, purposely not committing. I could hear my dad’s voice in my head telling me to watch myself, that this boy would distract me, that he only wanted one thing, that he would make me ruin everything that had been planned for me. I ignored it. I waved at Marcus and took off down the trail for my cabin, hoping Hannah would already be asleep so she wouldn’t ask where I’d been.

  On one of the benches on my path, far enough away that Marcus couldn’t see me, I touched my lips, remembering how Marcus tasted like mint. Then I bent down and scribbled on the bench with the campfire pen,

  BELIEVE IN KISSING.

  Eve Ensler

  My good mood did not last.

  “Ashlyn, where are the reservations for the March of Dimes group?” Deb asked accusingly, waving a piece of licorice in my face. “They’re missing.”

  Deb was not a fan of technology. Even though retreaters were encouraged to book their stays on the Sweetwater website, she refused to turn her computer on most days—the only one on our “off the grid” campus hardwired to the internet. Deb liked to have me print the documents out for her, and then they’d inevitably end up in a chaotic pile on her desk. Mallory had mentioned her parents used to work together before their recent divorce—maybe her dad had been the detail-oriented one of the pair. I’d been seriously contemplating straightening up for her, but then decided against it. Who knew what else was in there? With my luck, some wild insect would crawl out of the abyss and bite me. And of course, when something went missing, though I knew logically it wasn’t my fault, I inevitably second-guessed whether I’d made a mistake.

  I waded into the sea of papers and folders and pulled out the reservation binder, only to have half the pages fall out onto the floor. You were always so clumsy, said phantom Dad. My cheeks burned. “Here,” I said, handing it to her. “I’ll check the ones that fell out.”

  “Thanks,” she said dismissively and sat down behind the desk, flipping through the binder. “By the way, there’s some mail for you.”

  “Mail?”

  Deb waved her hand in the general direction of the folding table shoved in the corner that served as my makeshift desk. “Over there.”

  I stood in front of my little space and saw nothing that looked remotely like mail. I moved the chair and peeked under, but there were no stray envelopes. I side-eyed Deb’s desk. If I were a gambling girl, I’d bet that my poor mail was somewhere in her mess. I sighed and gave up. I’d have to dig through it later on, when she left for her next cooking challenge—she was teaching cheese and chocolate soufflés later.

  “Hey, Ashlyn?” Deb yelled. She was barely fifteen feet away from me, but from the volume of her voice you would have thought we were across campus from one another.

  “Yes?” I said, moderately and professionally, modeling what an inside voice should sound like.

  She drained the last gulp in her Styrofoam cup and crushed it in her fist. Gross. “Would you make me a cup of coffee? I’m just swamped over here.”

  More like in a swamp. Of papers. “Sure, Deb.”

  I walked down the short hallway, past the glass-walled classroom—the only other place on campus with technology—where Amos was guiding a group of lawyers through some kind of assessment results. There were pie charts up on the smartboard and ten heads were furiously taking notes on laptops and tablets. I wished I was in there instead of being Deb’s errand-girl. When I entered the small staff breakroom and opened the cabinet to grab a coffee filter, two envelopes toppled out, bounced off the counter, and fell to the floor. When I bent to pick them up, I saw they both bore my name.

  “Seriously, Deb,” I groaned. She must have left them in the cabinet when she made her first cup of coffee. I stuck the letters in the back pocket of my jean shorts to read later when I wouldn’t be infiltrated by the voice of Deb. Or my dad. I made her coffee as quickly as the machine would go and booked it back down the hall.

  I handed the cup to Deb. “Here. I’m going to go make sure the gym is in good shape.” Ba dum ching, I would’ve said, if I was talking to Tatum, adding in some air drums. Deb just waved, and I got the heck out of there.

  Beyond the main lodge, in the opposite direction from my cabin, the firepit, and the lake, was the forest—tall evergreens as far as the eye could see and hills so far away they looked purple. I followed the trail leading to the ropes course and zipline for a bit, before ducking off the path into the unmarked wilderness. I pulled the mail from my back pocket and sat in a shady spot under a tree.

  The first was greeting card-shaped and sealed in a navy-blue envelope. Silver marker writing. Return address: Tatum Elsea from Arlington, VA. I sliced it open with my index finger, revealing a greeting card, with two little girls making faces at each other on the front. I laughed. They could’ve been us ten years ago.

  Dear Ash,

  Hope you’re having a great time at your new job. No, I don’t hope, I know. You’re definitely having a good time. You’re probably hanging by the pool with a hot mountain man by now, right? I’m totally right. Things here are fine. The step-monster and I are signing up for a photography class together. How’s that for a plot twist? She’s being surprisingly openminded. I’m going to have to check her koolaid. I’m going up to visit Tilly in New York i
n a few weeks. I’ll send you a postcard.

  Love and ladybugs (the best kind of bugs, right?), Tate

  P.S. Have you heard from your parents?

  I chuckled. Tatum and her stepmother got along only slightly better than my dad and I did. The difference was, they’d actually been working on improving their relationship. I frowned at her P.S. Did my dad’s prison phone check-in, aka the most pointless phone call in the world, count as hearing from my parents? I didn’t think it did. I set Tatum’s card down next to me and picked up the second letter. It was the kind of long, white, business-sized envelope I used to steal from my dad’s office when I wanted to pretend I was the boss. I’d “send” letters to my employees—my dolls and teddy bears—telling them what a good job they were doing. And sometimes I’d tell them how terrible they were doing and fire them. A chip off the ol’ block. This envelope had a return address I didn’t recognize. I slid it open.

  Dear Ashlyn,

  I miss you very much and think of you every minute of the day. I want you to know that I’m feeling a little better and everyone here is treating me well. I should be able to make phone calls soon. Your uncle sent me the number to call and I can’t wait to hear your voice. I know we have a lot to talk about and there’s so much I need you to know. But for now, I love you more than anything.

  Love always,

  Mom

  I didn’t even realize I was crying until the tears hit her letter, smearing the ink. I wanted to talk to my mom more than anything right then.

  “Hey, sad girl, what’s wrong?”

  Startled, I looked up. Bax hovered over me, a mess of cords and pulleys draped over him. I wiped my nose on the back of my hand and did my best impression of a girl who was definitely not sad, sitting under a tree. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

  He looked at me. I couldn’t read his expression, but in the sunlight streaming between the tree branches, his eyes were so pale blue they almost seemed colorless. And then he nodded, just once, and moved on as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “Tomorrow, Ruth and I are going to take some of the new staff up on the course. Through the ziplines. Do you want to come?”

  Did I want to go on the zipline? Not only had I never done it before, I wasn’t even sure whether I was afraid of heights. Right on cue, that familiar, cutting dad-voice invaded my brain. Is it safe? Is this the best use of the opportunity I’ve arranged for you at Sweetwater? But this time, instead of driving me back into my cocoon, my dad’s phantom accusations gave me the push I needed to fly.

  “Sure, why not?” And, he’d said new staff. Which meant Marcus might be there. And anywhere Marcus was, I wanted to be. Last night was the first time since my dad dropped his bomb that I felt, even for a moment, like nothing was wrong. Like my life wasn’t in a tailspin. Like I could just . . . be. If flying through the air on a glorified rope swing with a boy who kissed me like I was the only girl in the world was an option, I’d take it.

  Bax nodded again, adjusted the cords around his shoulders, and walked away. I turned back to my letters and reread both of them. It was nice to know that there were two people out there who cared about me, even if they couldn’t be here with me.

  Chapter 10

  So what’s the deal with your mom?” Hannah asked. She was seated at a long table in the cafeteria with Baxter, Ruth, Amos, and several others.

  “What do you mean? Deal?” I set a platter of sandwiches on the table. It was the night off for a number of the serving staff, so, of course, Deb volunteered me to fill in. Nothing more confidence-boosting than the potential disaster of spilling a plate of meatball subs all over your fellow employees. I made sure to walk slowly and keep the water pitchers filled a few inches below the top.

  Hannah unfolded her napkin and put it on her lap. “I saw she wrote to you. I was just curious if there was any news.”

  My cheeks flamed with rage and embarrassment. I hadn’t told anyone at Sweetwater about my family situation and had no intention of doing so.

  “You read my letter?” It came out loud. Deb-loud. The soft hum of conversation died down in an instant.

  “Sorry,” Hannah said, her eyes flickering around to the others at table. “Not on purpose. I wouldn’t do that, Ashlyn, I wouldn’t. You need to know that.”

  Everyone was looking at us now. And for a few terrifying moments, time slowed as I waited, on edge, to see if Hannah would blurt out my dad’s legal status and my mom’s stint in rehab in front of these people I barely knew.

  “I don’t think this is the time or place for this conversation, Hannah,” I said, channeling my dad, using the tone and type of language he used when he was trying to coerce or intimidate someone. I took a step closer to where she sat, standing over her. Hannah, to her credit, didn’t shrink back.

  “Sure. We’ll talk later.” She took a giant bite of her sub and faced straight ahead.

  Without saying another word, I went back into the kitchen and gathered another plate for the next table. I spent the rest of the shift going back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen, shuttling food and drinks, fetching extra napkins and wiping up spills. Although it felt good to stay busy, I couldn’t get the looks of everyone around Hannah’s table out of my mind. Pity? Curiosity? Judgment? Whatever they were thinking, I felt like an amoeba under a microscope, and I imagined that every conversation was about me. I liked attention when it was my choice, like when I was flirting for example. But this? Not a chance. And the cherry on top? I had no idea if Hannah was telling the truth.

  Marcus and Mallory and the other lifeguards came in at the tail end of my shift. I smiled when I saw him, his brown hair almost black, still wet from the pool. Had he saved someone’s life today? Had he taught someone to swim? A group of middle schoolers, a temple youth group, had arrived yesterday. I bet all those girls had enjoyed the view during pool time. I walked toward their table and casually put down the platter I was carrying.

  “Hey, Marcus.”

  He gave me a lazy smile. “Hey, Ash. How’s it going?”

  “Not too bad. How’s the pool today?”

  “It’s been really busy,” Mallory answered for him. Even though I knew she was nineteen, her high-pitched voice made her sound like she was about twelve. “That new group of kids is so obnoxious. They splashed us all afternoon, didn’t they, Marcus?”

  He laughed like it wasn’t nearly as annoying to him as it had been to her. I shifted my gaze between them and back again. Two things bothered me about what she’d said. One, she said us. Like she and Marcus were a team, or, perish the thought, something more. And two, she got wet. That kind of came with the territory of being a lifeguard, didn’t it? Ugh. She seemed nice enough, but fussy. Just like her mother, actually. “Good thing your shift’s over, huh?”

  “Totally,” she said, not detecting my sarcasm at all.

  “So, Marcus,” I said with emphasis, “did you hear Ruth and Baxter are taking the new employees on the zipline?”

  “Hadn’t heard that, but very cool. I did a zipline in Costa Rica a few summers ago. It’s wild. Flying through the jungle like you’re a bird.”

  “Or a pterodactyl,” Mallory chimed in.

  I didn’t even look at her. “Right. Well, you should come.”

  “If I’m not working,” he said, poking Mallory gently in the shoulder. “Boss Lady.”

  “Oh, stop, I’m not really your boss,” she said, pretending to be embarrassed but so obviously pleased.

  “Great, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” To the table, I added, “Let me know if you all need anything.” I gave Marcus one more pointed look on the anything and walked away. Slowly. I knew he was watching.

  It was late by the time I got back to the cabin. But not late enough apparently, because Hannah was lying on her bunk, reading, with all the lights on. When I came in, she sat up so quickly she hit her head on the bottom of my bed and yelped. I covered my mouth, trying not to let her see the laugh that was trying to escape. Hannah gave
me a sheepish look and then her signature shrug.

  “I’m glad you’re back. Look, Ashlyn, I want to apologize for what I said earlier. Sometimes I just blurt things out without thinking and then later realize I hurt or embarrassed someone. I think I did both tonight. I’m sorry. I officially suck as a cousin.”

  The apology was unexpected, a pleasant surprise even, but it didn’t take away from the fact that she’d read my letter. I wasn’t prepared to let her off that easy. “But—”

  “I know, but I read your letter. I’m the worst. But in my defense, I wasn’t snooping. I sat down on the bed to tie my shoe and it slipped off your bed and landed face up. I picked it up and saw it was from your mom and, well, I have no excuse. But if it hadn’t fallen, I would never have looked at it. I promise.”

  She looked sorry. She sounded sorry. And to be honest, if the situation were reversed, I probably would’ve read the letter too. Rarely had I forgiven someone so quickly in the past, but somehow, this situation felt different.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay, I believe you.”

  “Thank goodness. I thought you were going to set me on fire with the looks you were giving me in the dining hall. I told Bax I was afraid for my life after we left,” she smiled. “He told me I should just talk to you about it, that it was terrible timing for me to ask you about your mom in front of everyone.”

  I sat down on her bed next to her. “He was right. I don’t really want to share what’s going on with my parents with the people here, you know? It’s no one’s business.”

  Hannah nodded and lifted her hand for a high five. “You’re so right. So right.” I left her hanging for a moment before tapping my hand to hers. Then she pinched her thumb and her forefinger together and mimed zipping her lips.

  We sat there next to each other, quiet for a moment, me wondering what to say next. Hannah cleared her throat. “So. Okay, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but my parents didn’t really say much and this whole thing with your parents seems like such a mystery. Like, poof, here’s the cousin you haven’t seen in forever and, oh, by the way, she’s coming to work with you this summer and we shouldn’t pry too much, but we should also be supportive. And I don’t know about you but it’s hard for me to be supportive if I don’t know what’s going on. Maybe that makes me nosy. But I also think it makes me invested.”