by Shawn Sarles
“Things okay with you and Dylan?”
She felt awkward asking it. She and Charlie were close. Very close. He’d looked after her ever since their mom died. But they almost never talked about relationships. Maddie wasn’t even sure if Charlie and Dylan were having sex or not.
“Yeah. They’re fine.”
“Fine?”
“I can’t believe Dad still has this old thing.” Charlie quickly changed the subject. “I don’t think anyone’s used it in years. Mom was always the camper.…”
Charlie let his thought trail off.
“I remember this one time,” Maddie reminisced, “Mom decided that she needed to bond with me or something. So we pitched this old thing out in the backyard and had a girls’ night under the stars.”
Maddie got quiet as she remembered. They’d camped out the summer before the fire, when she’d been only ten. Her mom had pointed out all the constellations. And they’d made s’mores in the kitchen and brought them outside to eat, pretending they’d had a real campfire. They’d talked all night, about Maddie’s favorite subjects in school and what color she wanted to paint her room. Even the boy she liked.
“I miss her, too,” Charlie said. He waited another beat and then asked, “Can you grab that corner over there?”
Maddie scurried around the tent and pressed it flat to the ground as Charlie carefully drove a stake into the dirt. They rotated around the rest of the tent, repeating this at each corner. They didn’t speak as they worked, each lost in his or her own thoughts.
“You know, I’m really going to miss you,” Maddie spoke up, the sad look still on her face. “Who am I going to watch the games with on Sundays?”
It had been their tradition ever since their mom had died. The two would plop down on the sofa every Sunday during the baseball season and watch the San Francisco Giants play.
“I’ll just be down the road,” Charlie tried to cheer his sister up.
“It won’t be the same.”
Maddie realized in that moment just how much she was going to miss Charlie when he went away to college. Miss him and his complete obsession with baseball. Maddie never got tired of hearing him yammer on about the sport and all his favorite players. She still didn’t know how he managed to keep all their names and stats straight in his head. And he had to have like an entire encyclopedia set’s worth of baseball cards stowed in binders under his bed, all kept in meticulous, pristine shape. What would happen to those when Charlie left? He wouldn’t take them with him, would he?
But Maddie loved her brother’s devotion. Loved how he’d shared it with her. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday than watching the game with him, laughing as he added his own colorful commentary.
“You’ll survive,” Charlie said, looking Maddie right in the eyes, his brown hair tucked behind his ears, his beat-up old Giants cap snugly on his head.
That stupid baseball cap. It looked an inch from death, sun-bleached, stained with sweat and dirt. But Charlie still wore it everywhere. He’d gotten it years ago when their dad had surprised them—and their mother—with a trip to San Francisco and lower deck seats at AT&T Park. Charlie hadn’t caught any foul balls that day, but their mom had bought him the cap as a souvenir, and he’d worn it every day for the rest of that summer. It’d driven Mom crazy. She’d only managed to get him to take it off in the house by threatening to stuff it down the garbage disposal. And even then he hadn’t let her wash it. He couldn’t let her tamper with the luck he’d built up in it, made of the hours of sweat and dirt that Charlie had poured into it as he’d trained his ass off to get good enough to make the high school team.
“I know I will,” Maddie said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t still be mad at you.”
And she reached up and tugged the brim of her brother’s cap down over his eyes, laughing as she did it, letting Charlie know that she’d be all right without him. He hadn’t worn that hat for two years after their mom had died. But Maddie was glad he’d come around. She couldn’t imagine him without it. He needed a little luck in his life.
Charlie pushed the cap back up his head and smiled at his sister before standing up and drumming his fingers against the taut tent canvas.
“Looks like we’re all done.”
“I can help with yours,” Maddie offered. “If you want.”
“No worries. Bryan’s got it.”
Charlie pointed over his shoulder and Maddie saw their cousin bent over, struggling to erect a much newer-looking tent. It wouldn’t have been that hard, but Uncle Ed stood over him, barking orders, his square face made all the more severe by the crew cut he’d worn for the last twenty-five years, ever since he’d joined the army right out of high school.
“Not like that. That pole goes over there. And you laid that flap down backward. That joint there is all wrong. I don’t know why this is so hard for you. Your cousin already has his up.”
Bryan looked exasperated, but toiled away at the tent in silence.
“And quit slouching,” their uncle snapped. “You’re my son, for God’s sake. Shoulders back. Chin up. Have some respect for yourself. It’s not too late to cancel Stanford. The military is always looking for new recruits.”
Bryan stiffened at the threat but continued working. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have the same broad build as his father. He took after his South Korean mother. Dark hair and pale skin. High, prominent cheekbones. Maddie had gotten tired of telling people that, yes, they were related, and no, he wasn’t adopted. He stopped working on the tent for a second to push his round spectacles back up his nose and Maddie shot him a sympathetic look.
Bryan put his head back down and set to work, his glasses winking brightly at Maddie as they caught the light. She got up and started over toward him to help, but he waved her off. She’d only make it worse with his dad. Maddie knew this about her uncle, knew how stubborn and pigheaded he could be. And how much he bullied his son. He was always hard on Bryan, and she didn’t understand why. What had happened to Uncle Ed to make him that way? How could he have come from the same family as her sweet mother? Another question to add to the list of things Maddie could never ask.
With her tent pitched and her brother off helping Dylan put up hers, Maddie headed across camp to find Chelsea. She couldn’t wait any longer to gush over Caleb. And she needed help devising a plan to get close to him again. As nice as their ride had been, Maddie didn’t want to have to go through another near-death experience to get him one on one.
As she walked, she spotted Aunt Julie going through their supplies, the coolers of food and drinks that had been waiting for them—along with the half of their group who hadn’t wanted to ride up the mountain on horseback. They might have to build their own tents, but the campsite came fully stocked. Food. A first-aid kit. An emergency radio. All of it waiting for them in a small supply shed so they wouldn’t have to lug it up the mountain themselves.
Maddie watched her aunt as she rummaged through the coolers, her head bent low, her straight, shoulder-length hair falling across her face. Her aunt was so pretty. So petite. And kind. The polar opposite of her uncle’s disciplined rigidity.
How had they ever fallen in love? And then managed to stay together this long? Maddie shook the question out of her head. Another mystery she’d never know the answer to. She watched Julie a little longer, saw her pull out hot dog buns and a can of baked beans. She hoped there were ingredients for s’mores in there, too. Then she kept going, finding Chelsea pretty quickly.
“Always gotta look your best,” Maddie couldn’t help but needle her best friend, “even in the wild.”
Chelsea closed her compact with a snap and glowered at Maddie.
“Why didn’t you tell me I looked like shit?”
“You always look beautiful to me.”
“I can tell when you’re lying.” Chelsea used a tissue to dab at her cheeks, then swept a curve of gloss over her lips. She threw the compact and makeup back in her pack and gave her ha
ir a quick tousle. “I’m surprised your brother didn’t run in fear from me.”
“Eh—he’s seen you look worse.”
Chelsea balled up her tissue and threw it at Maddie.
“God… he has, hasn’t he.”
“Facial Friday probably wasn’t our best idea.”
“Definitely not when you have a hot older brother.”
Maddie’s face curled up like the school cafeteria had served her a glass of spoiled milk.
“What? It’s the truth. Ask any girl at school.”
“You know he shaves his back, right?”
“You shut your mouth,” Chelsea gasped. “Don’t you dare start making up lies about him. That isn’t true, is it?”
“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.” Maddie’s eyes glinted mischievously and both girls started to snicker.
“Hey, is there something wrong with your dad?” Chelsea pointed over Maddie’s shoulder. Maddie turned just in time to see her father ambling out from behind one of the tents, wincing as he rubbed his right shoulder. Had he had that talk with Kris already? If so, it didn’t look like it’d gone well.
“I don’t know,” Maddie replied. She paused as her dad’s gaze met hers. An easy smile slid over his lips, and he lifted his left hand to wave.
“There you are.” Her dad’s voice sounded bright, but Maddie could see the discomfort still there behind his eyes.
“Is everything okay, Dad?”
“Nothing wrong with me.”
The response came out too quick. Maddie narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t buying his act and she wanted him to know.
“Ah, my shoulder.” Her dad broke quickly under pressure. He always did. “Just an old skiing injury. You know, I haven’t been sleeping so well the past couple of weeks. Might be time for a new mattress.”
“Sure.” Maddie still didn’t believe him. But why would he lie to her? She opened her mouth to press more, but he beat her to it.
“I was actually looking for you all. We need some water for camp. Caleb said there was a stream just there through the woods. Could you fill up some of the thermoses for us?”
“It’d be our pleasure, Mitch.” Maddie cringed as Chelsea used her father’s first name. Even though he’d told her to call him that, she still hadn’t gotten used to her best friend sounding so casual with her dad.
“Thanks.” Her dad seemed truly relieved. “Oh, and why don’t you take Abigail with you. It’ll give you girls some alone time. I know you must be going crazy with all us adults around.”
Chelsea had her mouth half-open, and Maddie could see the snappy retort loaded on the tip of her best friend’s tongue. She quickly jabbed her elbow into Chelsea’s side, and Chelsea bit down in surprise, cutting the words off at the head.
“Will do, Dad,” Maddie said with all the cheer she could muster, and her dad went on his way, lifting his hand to rub his shoulder again, but then thinking better of it halfway there.
“What was that for?” Chelsea turned on her friend.
“You were about to say something mean.”
“Well—” Chelsea searched for an excuse, “—yeah. So?”
“So? The trees have ears. And you have to spend a week out here in the middle of nowhere with these people. At least wait until the end of it to piss somebody off. I don’t want to wake up with spiders in our sleeping bags.”
“Or frogs in our water bottles?”
“Ew. Why’d you have to put that image in my head?”
“Just trying to cover all the bases.” Chelsea grinned wickedly. “But I’ll behave. For now.”
“Good. Now let’s go pick up the monster—”
Chelsea shot Maddie a look.
“I mean, Kris’s lovely daughter, Abigail.”
“Now who’s being a bitch?” Chelsea couldn’t keep a straight face.
“I said you had to behave.”
The girls sniggered as they made their way to the large fire pit in the middle of camp. Caleb had dropped the canteens there, along with a big water cooler, and conveniently enough, Abigail was plopped down on a log right beside it, staring at her phone, clearly frustrated.
“But honestly, how does your dad not know that you and Abigail can’t stand each other?”
Maddie could only shrug as they came up on Kris’s youngest daughter. Dads could be blind about the most obvious things. Their families had known each other for years—longer than Maddie could even remember—and she and Abigail had never gotten along.
“I guess we better get this over with.”
Maddie tightened her backpack straps and forged ahead. Chelsea followed right behind her.
FIVE
IT DIDN’T TAKE THE GIRLS LONG to find the path to the stream. It was wide and well marked, right where Maddie’s dad had pointed. The water cooler, though, slowed them down. The canteens were no trouble, each just about twice the size of a normal water bottle, with straps that they could loop over their shoulders. Abigail had two of these around her neck and another one around her left wrist. She kept her right hand free for her phone as she cast around for any kind of cell signal. That left Maddie and Chelsea with the much harder task of lugging the large water cooler through the woods.
The cooler wasn’t heavy—not when empty, at least—but the size and shape of it made it bulky and cumbersome, even for two people. Maddie and Chelsea kept having to stop and readjust their grips as the plastic slipped in their sweaty palms. Maddie felt like a baller Boy Scout, though, carrying three canteens on her own as the large cooler swayed between her and Chelsea. And it gave them an excuse to fall far enough behind Abigail that they could pretty much ignore her—and talk about Caleb.
“So, what’s he smell like?” Chelsea jumped right in, unapologetic. “And don’t you give me that look. You know exactly what I mean.”
Maddie stopped herself mid-denial and gave Chelsea’s question a real think. What had he smelled like? She tried to remember. She breathed in and could sense the memory tickling her nose.
“He smelled—” Maddie cast around for the right word. “He smelled like—like summer rain.” She didn’t know where it’d come from, but as soon as she said it, she knew it was true. “You know, that smell of damp earth and pollen and sun and…” Maddie trailed off, embarrassed.
“See,” and Chelsea wasn’t teasing this time, “it’s not such a bad question, is it?”
Maddie shook her head and smiled.
“So what did you talk about?”
And the two girls launched into a blow-by-blow, Chelsea hanging on every one of Maddie’s words, prodding her for more details here and whooping with delight there. They got so wound up in their conversation that they didn’t even notice Abigail glowering at them, her foot tapping with impatience.
“We’re here,” she said in a snooty voice. It looked like cell phone withdrawal had already set in. “Let’s fill these up and go.”
The girls let the cooler fall and it thunked hollowly against the ground. A second later and Chelsea had popped a squat right on top of it.
“Hellooo. Let’s get moving.” Abigail shook her canteens at the girl.
“Cool it,” Chelsea shot back. “It’s not like we’re in a hurry. Enjoy the mountain scenery.”
Abigail stomped her foot. And when Chelsea ignored her, she huffed and let her canteens clatter to the ground.
“Fine, you can fill these up, too.”
With that, Abigail turned and walked off into the woods, leaving Chelsea and Maddie behind, gawking after her.
“Where the hell is she going?” Chelsea spoke first.
“Maybe she has to tinkle.”
Maddie smiled at her joke. But then her worry returned.
“Do you think she’ll be all right by herself?”
Chelsea turned and gave Maddie a deadpan look.
“What’s the worst that could happen? She squats in the wrong place and ends up with a nasty rash?”
“That, or—” Maddie scratched her brain for something go
od. “She gets eaten by a bear.”
Both girls broke out into laughter at the same exact moment. Their cheer bubbled out of them, floating up to join the leaves. As their laughter ran its course, the forest grew still and they sat quietly, taking in all the nature brimming around them.
They were in the great outdoors. The wilderness. America’s backyard. A far cry from their cushy suburban lives. But it was gorgeous here. Maddie marveled at how oblivious she’d been so far this trip. She hadn’t noticed the towering trees all around her, throwing their cool shade for as far as she could see.
The stream, now right in front of her, was much larger than she’d imagined. Streams gurgled. But here, the water churned, a river rushing downhill toward the valley’s center. It was beautifully blue, white where little rapids formed, shedding their foam caps. It wasn’t a wide river. Maddie could see across to the other side. And maybe that was why Caleb had called it a stream.
They sat there together for maybe ten minutes, neither girl speaking. Maddie’s eyes scanned the forest across the river. At first she didn’t see much, but then her eyes adjusted, her ears tuned in to the forest’s frequency, and she saw everything.
Two birds flapped onto a nearby branch. On the ground, a squirrel foraged in the fallen leaves before finding a nut and scurrying out of sight. There was so much life right here in front of her eyes if only she stopped for a moment to take it all in.
Maddie froze as a doe and two fawns cantered into sight. She didn’t even dare motion for Chelsea to look. They were beautiful, their coats a soft brown speckled with delicate white flecks like they’d been dusted in powdered sugar. They picked their way to the water and carefully bent to drink.
They looked so innocent. Maddie’s palms itched to reach out and touch them. Slowly, she edged forward, even though she knew she couldn’t reach them from across the stream. Her arm raised a centimeter at a time and her hand opened up in invitation.
She was so close to them now, her shoes squishing in the mud of the river bank. She could make out their tracks, count their slender legs, see the nutmeg color of their twinkling eyes, so full of life and wonder. If only she had a sugar cube to offer them.