“Yeah,” me, too, Mom. I crawl into the front seat and stare at the cherry Slurpee stain on the floorboard. Even in leaving, I can’t escape memories of him.
Please, dear God, don’t let this be another disaster.
Maybe this is my miracle, because living with my mother in this dreadful city continually reminds me of my failures, twisting the dagger in my heart over and over again.
With another sigh and a slight wave, I back out of the driveway and put in my earphones and tune to my Spotify mix of non-romantic hits starting with “You Oughta Know”. How did I arrive at this desperate place in my life? If only someone warned me of the train wreck, I would have never befriended Allie or let Gage’s sooty Go-Go-Gadget lashes seduce me. Yet every time I close my eyes, I see them slamming each other on the floor. They can rot in hell for all I care. That’s the trouble; I do care. Way. Too. Much.
Merging onto highway 80, I head south for San Francisco. In three hours, I’ll be at Redwood Springs, but until then, I only have my music and my thoughts to keep me company. Shoot me now.
I tuck my cell phone into the center console and work up a pep talk. Redwood Springs was practically a second home and had a special place in my heart after being a camper several times as a kid. The lack of cell reception, but it isn’t like that matters, along with the creed I’d signed in triplicate is abundantly clear: no phones around the campers and no alcohol. Not that I particularly enjoy drinking, but the loss of my phone could be a struggle. Not for personal phone calls mind you, considering the two people I trusted most in the world betrayed me, and since then my phone has been relatively silent. No. In order to keep my brain from anxiety-ridden implosion, I’d taken up habitual reading (non-love stories) on my Kindle, Netflix (no romance allowed), and Candy Crush—all from my phone. Yet inevitably drawn in with morbid curiosity, I’d end up on Facebook and watch my heart be slashed once again.
No matter how hard I tried not to, I’d still scour the pages of friends in common looking for my ex and her, occasionally finding pictures of the two, lip locked with arms draped over one another in relationship bliss. Only a permanent Internet time out would curb my stalking and do me some good.
Upon hitting Highway 580, the painful memories that had happened merely six weeks ago drive like an anvil through my heart and the tears fall. I’d been so stupid. Mom had said, after I’d cried for the thousandth time, that the time needed to heal would last as long as I’d invested in the relationship. She most likely said it so I’d stop stalking Gage and move on, but two years? Oh, goody. I will have to endure twenty-three months of torture until I’m free. Maybe three months absence of him will make the biggest dent on my aching heart and I will return sane. But to where? I’d all but been kicked out.
Thinking back to when we’d met, which was during my senior year in high school, had been bliss. He’d already graduated and been a friend of a friend, hanging with “the group”. We’d hit it off right away, flirting with one another at parties, but the night we watched Paranormal Activity sealed everything. I’d buried my face into his shoulder more than enough times, and he responded by holding my hand under the blanket. Later we kissed. We were inseparable after that.
The warning bells should have smacked me against the face when Gage no longer wanted to hang out with the group. Rather, he wanted me all to himself. Soon after, the fighting began.
He’d made it clear he knew everything, so whatever wisdom I’d gleaned from the world, if any, twisted around in my blonde brain and came out wrong. All I was good for was my boobs, and a tight ass, which he couldn’t keep his hands off. Of all my weaknesses that involved Gage, that was the one place where I held firm. Call me a prude or whatever, but I’d made a promise to my self-respect that I’d wait until marriage. So when Allie breezed into my life again, I was anxious for a friend and a distraction.
Allie doesn’t hide she’s a slut. She only likes bad boys who want a sugar mama while they treat her like trash. That should have been a warning. Why I took her under my wing to begin with must stem from my need to fix people. Girlfriend needed help in choosing men. Heck, we both did.
I should have known she’d make a play first chance she got. To her, my boyfriend was perfect. From the emerald ring he’d given me for my birthday, to our fabulous fast food dates and the occasional bouquets of flowers. What did I have to complain about? Maybe the fact I’d put up with his visions of grandeur every semester as he enrolled in classes to become a lawyer, only to find he’d quit a month later from the inability to get his ass out of bed.
My second mistake was believing Gage wasn’t attracted to her. Though finding Allie at his place occasionally as she stopped by “to look for me” after work didn’t faze me since I practically lived at his mother’s house anyway. Now I know the mistake. Remembering that day zings a painful jolt of jealousy prompting the memory of my third mistake. I should have never paid her part of the deposit and rent.
I gaze into the rear view mirror and wipe away the trails of mascara. I hate that I’m such a baby over this, and the pain never stops carving so deep in my soul it physically hurts. What if it never goes away? I don’t think I could chance anyone doing this to me again. Would I end up like Mom? How is the risk worth this?
Halfway to the camp, I run through a drive-through and pick up an iced tea and waffle on a salad or fries—settling on a salad. The only good thing about the break-up is that I have dropped twenty pounds. Since Gage’s kitchen is just as dysfunctional as his mother, and typically piled high with weeks of dirty dishes, fast food became our main source of sustenance. Those calories had crept up on my ass, adding more than the typical freshman fifteen, and I hadn’t even gone away to college. Another stupid Gage mistake.
I already know camp food will make a mark on my waistline. Hopefully all the extra activity and a salad each meal will help me keep off what I’ve already lost, that is if I can stay away from the ice cream in the snack shack—especially the Drumsticks.
As my car chugs up the mountain peaks of Highway 17, I roll down the window and suck in the sea breeze. The redwoods and salty air filter through my car and into my lungs. Heaven. I have so many awesome memories of Camp Redwood Springs—first time being away from home for an extended period of time where no one knew my home life, first crush, first hand-holding, and where I’d learned to kiss. I’d wanted nothing more than to be a counselor one day. Alas, humiliating as it is, snack shack girl will have to do. Peace settles onto me. Yes. Maybe this is a good decision after all.
Then my car sputters and white smoke rolls out from under the hood. I pull over to the side of the road, and open it up. Things sizzle and smoke. I quickly rethink my decision as I lean against the side of the car.
This is a total mistake.
CHAPTER THREE
After my car has a chance to cool down, it starts, thankfully. Praying the entire way, I finally arrive at Camp Redwood Springs, and pull into the parking lot. Memories from when I’d been a camper here five years ago return like a dream. A cardboard sign with an arrow marked “check-in at the main auditorium” beckons me.
The gravel crunches under my feet as I near the cement stairs, remembering when Mom used to drop me off. I’d lugged my overly packed suitcase up them one by one, crossing into a world where I became whoever I wanted to be for that short week. Crows in the redwood trees squawk as if they know the truth and my heart flutters. Though I didn’t have my dream job, I’d make the best of it and reconstruct my life. I’m ready for this. I’ll have a great summer if I put my mind to it.
“Maddy?” I hear behind me. “Madison Miller, is that you?”
I swivel around, catching the toothy grin of a tall brunette with long tanned legs. My jaw drops. “Sydney?”
Without thinking, we run to one another and hug with squeals of laughter like we were sixteen again.
“Girl. How have you been?”
I grab her arms to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me, unable to contain my excitement. �
��Syd, I can’t believe you’re here. Are you working here, too?”
“Of course I am. This was our dream, remember? Counselors baby.”
My heart pinches as my thoughts go back to that summer before my junior year: sunbathing on the lake dock, flirting with boys. The time of my life. A twinge of guilt follows for not coming back my last summer, and being a lousy pen pal, all in fear she’d find out the truth about me.
“I’m actually the snack shack girl,” I say. “Sorry about losing touch.”
“Oh…” Disappointment colors her eyes before she loops her arm with mine and leads me up the pathway. “I think it was my turn to write actually and when we moved, I lost my address book. We’ve been brought together by fate, and this summer is going to be epic. So what have you been up to?”
My throat clamps closed. Embarrassed, I gloss over my past, so I could ask her what she’s been up to instead. Details of Washington State University, her sorority, and a boyfriend who thought her crazy for wanting to work at camp all summer sends a pang of envy through me. I laugh, annoyed once more that I’d let Gage steal my dreams of working here, not to mention applying to a four-year university, too. I’d stayed home for the jackass.
I keep asking questions so she doesn’t ask me about my crappy life as we round the corner of the building and go inside the amphitheater room. Memories of songs, silly skits, and sneaking out after Lights Out to hook up with our summer crush flood through me.
“Dirk? Dirk Johnson?” Sydney squeals. “Holy crap, it’s old home week.”
Sydney marches over to him and throws her arms around his neck, like they were old pals. His green eyes light up once he sees me over Sydney’s shoulder.
“Mad Madison?”
I cringe at the nickname he’d dubbed for me way back when. “Hey, Dirk. Long time no see.”
He lets go of Sydney and out stretches his arms. His hug lingers longer than Syd’s, which is awkward. I don’t remember him smelling so good before.
“Yeah, it’s been a while.” My cheeks heat once he lets go.
He winks. “I’ll say. Still breaking hearts?”
I laugh and shake my head. Hardly.
“Oh, right.” Syd snapped her fingers. “Weren’t you two…?”
I nudge her arm playfully, then stuff my hands in my pockets. We’d had a short romance that lasted maybe a day. Holding hands and a small peck while we rode the Giant Dipper at the Boardwalk was the extent of our tryst. After I’d learned his dad didn’t invent Facebook like he’d bragged, I’d dumped him for Matt, and an awesome decision that was. Matt, a senior, knew the fine art of kissing. Dirk didn’t give up on me until my cabin started calling him Dirk the Jerk which ruined the rest of his week. The irony being I’d lied about everything made me the biggest hypocrite, and something I’d take to my grave.
“Sorry about that one summer…”
“Ah,” he laughed. “That was a long time ago. I had a habit of exaggerating, as I recall.”
I chuckle. “And I was one of the mean girls, as I recall.”
“Naw.” He shrugs. “But I’m not the only familiar face you’ll see this summer. I think you remember Kitty McGee and Matt Stone.”
My heart plummets, and I force my face to remain stiff. Sydney starts to laugh, jabbing me in the arm. “Oh, I’m sure Maddy remembers good ‘ole Matt.”
I work to keep my breaths even. I couldn’t hide from my past when Mr. Camp Hottie had just taken residency front and center. Coming here no longer seems like such a good idea anymore—not to be something as humiliating as the snack shack girl.
“Maddy?”
I close my eyes and swivel around. I could pick out that gravelly voice anywhere.
“Matt,” I bite my lip, “good to see you.”
Matt’s lopsided grin pulls those adorable dimples into his cheeks, and I try not to stare at his luscious lips. There is only one person who topped Gage’s kisses, and he stood before me, sporting a strong jaw line and buff shoulders. I force myself not to drool. We were no longer eye-to-eye, and I crane upward at his 6’2” stature at the top of the steps. The dread for not returning my senior year, or keeping in touch with him practically knocks the wind out of me. He takes the carpeted steps of the auditorium by twos and stands before me, golden haired and blue-eyed beautiful.
“You haven’t changed a bit.” He eyes me up and down, sending shivers over my skin. “And Syd, man, this is crazy. You two were inseparable that year.”
Sydney cackles and punches him in the shoulder, then fakes she’d hurt her hand—she totally sees what I see. Hotness. “We were. How are you doing?”
My eyes glaze over, listening to him breeze over his life at San Diego State with, you guessed it, a football scholarship. Everyone had accomplished so much already. Me, the loser, had done nothing but sit on her ass.
“And you?” Matt looks into my eyes, into my soul. I cower, lost in his gaze, then recover.
I swallow down my regret. “I’m studying Physics.”
“Really? Where?”
“UC Davis.” My ears burn. Did I just say Physics? Oh crap. And where did UC Davis come from? I want to hide in a hole. “I mean… Psychology.” I fake a laugh. “I’m always doing that.”
“If these walls could talk.” Kitty stands in the back of the room holding two gigantic suitcases. Taller and leaner, with gorgeous straight teeth absent of braces and dark raven locks, I barely recognize her, but thankfully she interrupted. “Maddy? Syd? Is that you?”
I pinch my lips together, instantly self-conscious. Syd and I weren’t very kind to Kitty that summer, either.
“Hey, Kitty,” Syd says quickly. “This is awesome.”
Matt’s eyes storm over. “Kitty… I told you I’d get your suitcases.”
She giggles, lets the bags fall from her hands with a thunk, and joins the circle, giving Matt a kiss on the lips first.
“None of that in front of the kids,” Dirk chastises as he hands out orientation envelopes.
“Now that’s rude to say of Maddy and Syd,” Kitty says, batting her eyelashes. “They’re all grown up. Look at them.”
I hold my breath, waiting for my envelope, vastly aware this isn’t going to be like the days of camp I remembered. Who am I kidding? How can I turn over a new leaf and make new friends, let alone impress anyone here? I want to tell Dirk I’ve made a mistake and get in my car and drive home. No, off a cliff. And like an omen, there’s no envelope for me.
“Kitty, you’re in Camellia. Syd, you’ve got good old Mulberry. The others have already staked their claim, so if you don’t like your cabin assignments for some reason,” he chuckles darkly, “then maybe someone will switch with you, until your rotation with Maddy in Aspen.”
“Spiderville?” I exclaim.
“Don’t look to trade with me.” Kitty snickers and holds up her hands. “I’m happy with my digs.”
“Dude,” Matt interrupts. “Dogwood. Awesome, bro.”
“Don’t worry,” Dirk says while clapping me on the back. “Rumor is they’ve had the place fumigated, since the summer working crew stays there. Marge has your keys.”
I narrow my eyes at him, trying not to think too hard about the dig at my job title. “If there’s even one spider, I’m finding you to kill it and then I’ll be moving into the auditorium.”
“Be my guest.” He nudges a small balled up carcass on the floor with his flip-flop. “But I just killed a beauty before you arrived. My cabin has an extra bed.” He winks and a weird sensation of creepiness washes over me.
Matt laughs and I cringe, backing away from the squished remains. How am I supposed to respond to that? “That’s okay… I’ll just stay with the help where I’m supposed to be.”
Syd comes to my rescue and puts her arm over my shoulder. “Stay with me in Mulberry until the campers come and I’ll make sure there are no spiders.”
I exhale in thankfulness and follow her out of the auditorium, but not before I catch Matt checking out Sydney’s ass.
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~|~
After an hour of lugging my stuff across the camp to shove in the only room available upstairs at Aspen, then packing a small bag to take to Mulberry, I fall onto the borrowed bed exhausted. The soft cushiony feel of my extra egg crate tempts me with a nap. Why didn’t I apply to be a counselor like Syd had? Oh, yeah. I couldn’t be apart from Gage.
The pictures lining the underside of her bunk catch my attention. Other than Molly, our contemptuous cat, and Mom and Hannah, I hadn’t brought any pictures to hang. After Allie’s betrayal and my abrupt hiatus from “the group”, I was too embarrassed to reconnect with anyone. For the first time in my life, I had no one I could call a close friend.
Then the lie about going to UC Davis hits me. If anyone wants to be my Facebook friend, they’ll know I’d lied.
I take out my cellphone, wishing for better cell service, wishing someone besides Mom to have called and affirm I’d arrived safely. Not even Candy Crush worked. Tempted to text Gage, my finger freezes as the door swishes open.
“Hey.” Syd walks in with a stack of stuff from her orientation meeting. “Talk about boring.”
Wiping away a tear, I sit up. “How’d it go?”
She drops everything on her bed and rushes over. “What’s wrong?”
I gulp hard and stare at the floor, almost feeling red-handed because of my tears. I’d no intention of boring anyone with my sordid embarrassing tale. Today is day one of my sole support group—Gage Anonymous. “It’s nothing, really.”
She smiles sweetly and sits on the edge of my bunk. “Missing home or something?”
“Um, yeah, sort of.” I sigh, thankful for once I’d contained my tears to a slow drizzle instead of a dam burst. All of it made me look pathetic. “Just wish I’d applied for a counseling job, that’s all.”
“Oh, honey.” She pats me on the shoulder. “You’ll have a great summer, you’ll see. Just think, no kids to worry about.”
She gives me a sweet concerned smile.
“Yeah.” I stand up and head to the sink, inspecting my red-rimmed eyes in the mirror, hoping to change the subject quick. “Not that I’m looking or anything, but did you see how mouthwatering Matt turned out?”
Truly Madly Deeply: Volumes 1-4 Page 2