Everyone’s eyes are locked on me. I drop my voice so that I’m nearly whispering, and I feel the whole camp lean towards me.
“There’s a girl from Palermo who isn’t here tonight. Her name was Clara Abbey, and she sat beside me in grade six until Christmas break.” Through the firelight, I see my teammates straighten in shock. They remember Clara, the grade twelves best of all. They remember Clara because Clara is a legend.
“I went to Florida that year with my family, and we didn’t see the news,” I continue. “It wasn’t until I got back to school after break that I learned what happened. Clara had been coming home from her family’s Christmas dinner when the car was struck by a drunk driver, and Clara was killed.”
It’s dead silent on the other side of the fire. No one knows where this story is going. Behind me, I can feel the staff and coaches shifting uncomfortably, wondering whether they should stop me. I don’t look back, not even to see Polly’s face. I don’t have to. The teacher had rearranged the desks by lunchtime, and after that I sat next to Polly. It’s how we became friends. We owe our friendship to Clara Abbey. Or the absence of Clara Abbey. That’s why we wanted to tell her story, make her a real person instead of just a legend that gets whispered about in the hallways at school.
“That’s our curse,” I say. “Every single graduating class is one person short. Brian Wyn Davies, Charlotte Arbuckle, Adam Ouimette, Jack Chioran, Lindsay Carlson, and Clara Abbey. And those are just the ones I can remember. Every single class at Palermo Heights since 2006 has lost at least one student to a drunk driver.”
The lake strikes in dissonant beats against the stones on the shore and the fire cracks. I know without a doubt that this is the best story ever told around this campfire. No one will top it, not in a million summers of cheer camp.
“But that’s not all,” I say. “We’re cheerleaders. We understand spirit. We know how to make people feel it. And the spirit at Palermo Heights won’t let us forget that a student has died.” I have them where I want them. Now comes the tricky part. “Our challenge is more than remembering the classmate who died. Because every year one of the girls at PHSS gets pregnant. No one talks about that girl, not to her face at least, not in public.” The audience giggles nervously. They weren’t expecting that. “I’m not saying it’s our punishment,” I go on, “but I do think that it’s life’s way of reminding us that nothing should be taken for granted, that things might take a turn in ways that aren’t fair or don’t make sense.” The giggle has run its course, and now the kids are back to wondering where the hell I’m going with this. I lean forward. “But here’s an even better secret,” I say. “We are going to break that curse. Clara Abbey died, it’s true, but so far, no one has given birth. We have ten months until we graduate. Ten months to be smart. That is our challenge, and that is our goal. It’s not exactly typical, I’ll admit it, but it’s ours.”
There’s a moment before anyone realizes that I’m done, and then scattered applause. I take my seat and look over at my coach. Caledon looks surprised, but also proud of me, and Polly grabs my hand again.
“Well, that was something different,” whispers Amy. “Good for you.”
“Thanks,” I reply.
The camp director gets up and rather anticlimactically thanks us for our stories. We’re asked to help one another in our quests, like we’re headed for a volcano with a ring or something, and then we all get sent to bed.
“Remember, wake-up is at six thirty, so you’re going to want to actually sleep,” the director says.
I sigh. We’ll be getting up well before six thirty. Half an hour really isn’t enough time for twelve girls to turn themselves into cheerleaders. I remind myself to ask Amy if she wants to make a schedule or just hope that everyone cooperates.
“See you at breakfast,” Polly says when we part ways. The boys have already crossed the field, Leo looking put out that I didn’t let him kiss me in front of all the boys in his cabin. “Which, by the way, you’ll be eating cold.”
“After tonight,” I tell her, “it will almost be worth it.”
CHAPTER 4
I DREAM OF FLYING. On a good day, a basket toss gets me four metres or so of height. Crowds love the fast, complicated, gyroscopic stunts, but it’s hard to see anything during those. So when I dream of flying, I dream of a simple back layout. When I dream of flying, everything is impossibly slow. When I uncurl my arms and throw my head back, there is no blur, no dizziness, and when I’m halfway around, head pointed straight down, I can see all my teammates. I have time to smile at them and see them smile back before the rotation carries me around and I float back into their arms. And then they are like a trampoline, because I’m back up in the air, higher this time. Again and again. Only sky above me and cheering crowds below. Again and again. I will never stop flying.
Except above me there is noise. Above me is not the sky. Above me is a farm kid, who never sleeps past the first whisper of morning and had volunteered to wake up the cabin. Mallory.
And then I’m awake. Amy and I decided last night that 5:50 was as late as we could all safely sleep and still be presentable for breakfast. I hear Mallory stir above, and the familiar creak of the bunk. I’ve got two more minutes at most before I need to make sure the new girls get this first morning right. They’re going to need breakfast. There will be at least one hair-related emergency.
Two more minutes.
I keep my eyes closed and my sleeping bag tight under my chin. Will I ever have it this good again? I will wake up somewhere new this time next year. I have only a few more mornings in this world, in this world that loves me for what I love and for what I am good at.
One more minute. One more.
—
“How did Leo manage to get a van big enough for all of us?” Mallory asks as we make our own bunks. There’s a knack to making top and bottom bunks simultaneously, and Mallory and I do it without a second thought. We’re rushing because a couple of newbies had hair crises and now we’re both behind.
“I don’t know exactly, but when your dad owns a dealership, I guess you can make things happen with cars,” I say, snapping a corner tight on my mattress. In truth I know very little about Leo’s whole plan for the Saturday night of Labour Day weekend, beyond that he managed to convince Caledon that it would be excellent bonding for the “team leadership” to spend some extra time together before school starts, and to convince his father to find us a van big enough to fit the nine team members who will graduate at the end of the year.
“Well, however he pulled it off, I think it’s great that you two are making it a team event. It’s going to be fun.” Mallory is done with her bed and is looking down at me as I fit my last corner.
“Yes. It’ll be great.” I smile back at her, and don’t mention that I flat out refused to go at all, unless it was a team event. Camping out with Leo is pretty far down the list of things I want to do immediately after camp, but I am a cheerleader. I can get enthusiastic about anything.
—
Despite our best efforts, we are the eighth cabin selected for entry to breakfast. This is not as bad as it could be, of course, but it still means we spend fifteen minutes in line to be rewarded with rapidly cooling eggs. I’d opt for dry cereal, which is usually the safer bet, except I’m going to need all the protein I can get. The dining hall fills quickly, volume rising even after people start to eat. There’s a hush around me, though, as everyone stares. I made quite an impact last night, apparently. There is enough space that we could sit as a cabin if we wanted to, but Leo is waving at me. After the campfire last night, the last thing I want to do is sit with strangers.
“Hey, Winters,” he says as I take my seat and carefully arrange plate, cutlery and cup. “That was some story you told.”
“It’s not exactly a story,” I tell him. “It’s the truth.”
“Yeah, but it still feels like a ghost story,”
Tig points out. “And telling it around a campfire in the middle of the woods doesn’t help.”
“Are you mad at me?” I ask. I put more salt on the eggs than I usually would.
“It might have been nice to have a heads-up,” Leo says.
“Oh, come on,” Tig says. “We do our part by not dying, and the girls do their part by not getting pregnant. How hard can it be?”
Carmen, who has taken a seat beside me, shoots Tig a withering look.
“What?” he demands.
“Last I checked, it takes two to tango,” Carmen points out.
As they continue to snipe at each other, Leo leans closer to me. “But seriously, why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.
“Polly and I talked about it,” I say. “It was a captain thing. I didn’t think you would care this much.”
He looks offended, and I am not sure if it’s because of Polly, because of the captain thing, or because I thought he wouldn’t care. Leo always wants to talk, it seems, but never about the things that would make it easier to be his girlfriend.
“You basically told everyone that girls shouldn’t have sex,” he says.
“I told everyone to be careful. Speaking of, I really didn’t appreciate your addition to my suitcase.”
“Hey, that would be being careful,” he drawls, but he still looks hurt.
“Look,” I say, trying to mend fences. I think about putting my hand on his arm, or something, but I need both hands to eat, and we’re on the clock. “Tig’s right, in a way. The not-dying part is equal opportunity. I bet you can remember all the girls who had babies. Can you name any of the fathers?”
“I still don’t see why it had to be a secret,” Leo persists.
I roll my eyes. “We were worried that if Caledon found out, she’d tell us we couldn’t do it,” I snap. It’s louder than I intended, and both Tig and Carmen look at us. “But now it’s done, and she supports us, and I don’t see why you can’t too.”
“Fine, fine,” he says, turning back to his breakfast. He smirks, that studied expression I think he means to be attractive. “I totally understand keeping secrets from Caledon.”
It hangs there, a fight we could have right here in the middle of the dining hall if I want to pick it with him. If I don’t, he’ll assume I’m relenting. If I do, it’ll be a spectacle. I wish Polly were here. She is so much better at figuring this sort of thing out, even though she’s never dated anyone at all.
“Whatever,” I say, choosing the high road. Leo smiles, but when he would have put his arm around my shoulder, I duck away and stand up. “I’m going outside to stretch before we get our session assignments.”
I finish my eggs on the way to the plate return, and take the sausage and potato cake out with me, wrapped in a napkin. I’ve had about as much of Leo as I can stand, and we haven’t even gotten started yet. Maybe we’ll be in different groups for the week. They like to split up schools, so it’s a definite possibility.
I’m not the only one who has chosen to finish breakfast on the grass. It’s wet from the dew, but drying fast. I finish my breakfast, tossing the napkin into one of the garbage cans placed on the field, and stretch while a couple of boys do handstands beside me. They’re shirtless, of course, so I’m not sure what school they’re from. But they’re laughing, and I can’t resist the challenge, so I join in, easily outlasting the pair of them before collapsing in a heap.
“What’s your name?” asks one of them.
“Hermione,” I say.
Before I can ask their names, the throng of cheerleaders exits the dining hall, and our separate teams sweep us off. Leo’s still glowering and I don’t think seeing me in the grass with those guys helped, but I don’t have time to think of anything but the days ahead. Through the crowd, I see Polly’s face: set and ready to go. I do my best to marshal my own features the same, channelling all the determination and confidence I can muster. Showtime. Last time.
My time.
CHAPTER 5
THE NEXT WEEK PASSES IN a blur of acrobatics, jumps into the lake and napping at every possible opportunity. We lose two or three people a day to heat exhaustion, and probably regular exhaustion too, but those of us who have done this before push through. Fatigue here has a different quality. It’s hard work shared in common with more people than just your own. I’ve leaned on shoulders I don’t know, and been held steady in the air by the hands of people I’ve just met. My own shoulder is braced with bright pink Kinesio tape, expertly applied at breakfast by a St. Ig’s girl who saw me get dropped the day before. It’s everything I’ve hoped for, and the smiles that greet me in the mess hall or on the field are even better than I’d dreamed.
—
By Friday night, which is movie night, we’re all completely ready to drop. Tomorrow is technically our day off, but since it’s the only day we’ll have to practice our final routine for the exhibition at the end of the next week, Polly and I won’t be relaxing too much.
They’ve erected a huge screen on the field for us, and once the sun sets, we all set up camp in the grass. It’s been a dry summer, or this would be very uncomfortable. I can tell Amy wants to come sit with us. I think there’s a lot more bitterness on her team than she’s letting on. I’ve promised Polly though, and we do have a lot of work to do. Anyway, by now I think I’ve seen just about every happy sports movie there is, and when Rudy starts up, flickering on the giant white screen, I know I’m not going to miss anything.
“Hey,” says Leo, slumping into the grass beside me. “Haven’t seen much of you all week.”
It’s true. It’s a full week, and I haven’t had a lot of time for socializing—or maybe I haven’t made a lot of time. Also, Amy turns out to be really good at improv, so our mealtime cheers put us consistently at the front of the pack. We can usually manage to save one seat for Polly, but after that things get awkward. “I’ve been busy,” I tell him, which is also the truth. I’ve never had a boyfriend at camp before, and it’s turning out to be really hard. “Though if it makes you feel better, I’ve been able to do some quality spying on St. Ig’s.”
I mean it as a joke, but even in the dark I can tell Leo isn’t close to laughing.
“St. Ig’s?” he says. He puts his arm around my shoulder, but instead of being sweet it feels possessive. “You’re on pet name status with them? Do the St. Ig’s boys call you Winters yet? I notice their cabin busts its ass to make sure they’re in for meals with yours.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say, leaning away from him. “My cabin has half their team in it. Or course they try to sit with us. And nobody calls me Winters but you.”
“Don’t you forget it,” he says. He’s trying to joke now too, and even though it isn’t working, I laugh.
“If you’re extra nice to me, I’ll tell you what I’ve learned,” I say, smiling at him.
But Leo just rolls his eyes, and looks towards the screen.
I’m not a moron; on some level, I know people come to this camp for reasons other than mine. And I know that most people don’t understand what these two weeks mean to me. But Polly and I have worked too hard to not take advantage of every chance we get, particularly when we know it will be the last shot we have. I know this is the last year, that next summer will be the first different summer I’ve had in more than half a decade. It will be the first summer I am not a cheerleader. It makes me even more determined to squeeze whatever I can out of these days at camp.
“Ugh, Rudy.” Polly sighs as she drops in next to me on the grass, and rests her head on my shoulder. In theory, there are dozens of inspirational sports movies, but my practical experience would indicate otherwise. We’ve all seen this one more times than we care to count. It doesn’t matter, though, because we have a lot of work to do. Or at least work I would like to do. Long before we’ve made as much progress as I’d hoped for, Tig gets restless, and Polly has to take him to task
for wasting what little time we have to work on this together.
Leo bristles and puts his arm around me again. He hits Polly accidentally because she’s been leaning on me to see over my shoulder and he’d moved too fast for her to get out of the way. “Hermione might be stuck spying on St. Ig’s next week too. This might be the last chance we get to plan.”
“You could spy on whoever you’re bunking with,” Polly offers as I pull the whiteboard out of my sleeping bag.
While everyone around us watches Rudy lust over the Notre Dame football team, we sketch out formations and double-check the count to make sure they’re physically possible. Leo assures me that Dion and Cameron, our two new boys, can handle anything I throw at them. Still, this will be the first time we work together. It’s hard to trust a completely new person to catch you, but if Leo tells me they can, I believe him. Every time I’m tempted to put them on the sidelines, I force myself to put them back in the thick of it.
“Hey,” comes a whispered voice behind me, and all four of us jump. I turn around, and it’s Amy with a bunch of the St. Ig’s kids. For the first time, she looks happy to be hanging out with them. “Sorry!” she says. “We’re sneaking down to the lake. Wanna come?”
I look at Polly, who can smell an intersquad prank a mile away. I have no problem getting tp’ed or ending up with Jell-O in my shoes for the cause, but unauthorized time at the lake has serious, dish-washing-related repercussions. Polly seems torn, but finally shakes her head.
Exit, Pursued by a Bear Page 3