Nothing Happened

by Molly Booth

  I inwardly, not outwardly, groaned at Ben’s weirdness, which took a lot of effort.

  “Welcome to Reny’s!” A woman in a green smock smiled at us as we came in. After weeks in the woods, the bright fluorescent lighting slapped my eyes in the face, and the AC felt like walking onto frozen tundra.

  None of us knew what to say. What were real humans, again? It had been two weeks of nothing but camp. I felt the sense that we were all suddenly, painfully aware that we wore dirty T-shirts, athletic shorts, and sneakers. Oh wait, and pirate costumes. I don’t know how we forgot we were wearing pirate costumes.

  We split up. Donald took off to look for sparklers, Bee toward food, and who knew where Ben was going. I found myself in the swimming stuff aisle, looking at inner tubes printed to look like sprinkle donuts. Didn’t feel exactly right, though.

  In the next aisle over, I saw Ben studying a bottle of mouthwash. He shoved it in his basket the second he noticed me.

  “Capture the Flag supplies?” I asked innocently, peeking into the basket. There were half a dozen deodorants in there.

  “For our older campers,” he explained quickly. “Next week’s supposed to be hot, and they always smell.”

  Well, that was true.

  “And the mouthwash?” I asked.

  It was a gallon-size container of acidic teal. He looked down at it; his face went completely blank for one second. Then—

  “Too much bug juice,” he explained. “I’m gonna get cavities.”

  I made a mental note to tell Donald about this hilarity later. Emergency mouthwash, right before the sparkler party? Dude had plans. He then kind of sprinted away from me down the aisle. Maybe to pay and bag before anyone else could call him out. That’s what I’d do.

  Which brought me back to my task: try to find anything that looked like something Hana would want me to give her. I’d just made it to outdoor living, the bird section, when John showed up.

  “Hey, they accidentally gave me two,” he said, holding up two white coffee cups. “You want one?”

  “Hell yeah.” I grabbed it from him and immediately took a scalding sip. Black, not burnt, not instant…I hadn’t wanted to spend the money, but damn. This was almost as good as kissing Hana. Was coffee-flavored lip gloss a thing? Should I buy it for her?

  “Thaaaank you,” I sighed, bringing it away from my lips.

  “Sure thing.” John nodded. “That’s one of the perks at Yale—excellent coffee.”

  “Cool,” I said.

  “Hey, listen,” he said, moving in toward me and the birdseed. “Can I talk to you about something?”

  Did anything good ever start with that sentence? Was he going to want to talk about what happened on the island? I thought he’d probably taken the hint, given that…well, whatever.

  “Yeah, sure, go.”

  “Okay.” He leaned up against the shelves, lowered his voice. “I’ve heard this rumor you’re hooking up with Hana.”

  He paused. I didn’t say anything back.

  “Okay,” he continued. “I just wanted to bring it up because before I heard that, I’d heard she was hooking up with some townie who’s sneaking into camp at night, after quiet hours.”

  Did he just say words? I must’ve looked shocked, because he took something I did as an invitation to keep going.

  “Yeah, Connie told me she saw them down by the volleyball net.” He nodded. “Like, a couple nights this past week. Hey, are you okay?”

  I sipped my coffee. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. Was this even possible? “I’m…fine,” I said. “Why…Why are you telling me this?”

  John’s pretty face pinched into some expression between anger and embarrassment.

  “Because I like you,” he said. “I know you’re friends with Donald but…And I would want to know, if I didn’t know. Did you know?”

  I stared at him.

  “Guess not,” he said.

  I was really done with this conversation.

  “Well, thanks.” I held up the coffee.

  “No problem, I hope…” He turned away, then back again. “I hope I didn’t fuck up by telling you?”

  My brain caught up with my emotions for a split second. “No, no.” I rubbed my cheek with one hand. “I…Yeah. Thanks.”

  He nodded, then disappeared at the end of the aisle.

  I looked at the miniature bird feeder on the shelf, the red one, the one I’d just decided to get for Hana. I thought she could hang it outside her window in Little Bat. It seemed like something she’d love.

  Could this really be a thing? What townie? I’d known, like, last year, there’d been a guy who’d messed her up. Was it him? What was his name? Chris?

  “Christopher?” Bee’s voice from the aisle next to me.

  A spastic chill shot down my neck. What the hell? I turned around and walked slowly, quietly to the end of the aisle.

  “Yeah, hey, Bee,” said a dude’s voice. “How you been?”

  “Fine.” She sounded tense. “How about you?”

  “I’m doing good, busy summer.”

  “Really.”

  “How’s your sister?”

  “Why?”

  “I just thought—”

  “She’s doing great, and she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Really?” This guy sounded like a total dick.

  “Really. Stay away from her,” Bee’s voice growled. If I were this guy, I’d be retreating.

  “If she doesn’t want to talk to me, then why does she keep texting me in the middle of the night?”

  A brief moment, which felt like the pause before Bee punched his lights out. I waited for it, because if she didn’t, I felt like I needed to.

  “You’re lying,” Bee said.

  His voice sounded amused as he replied, “I can show you the texts right now.”

  But instead, she marched out of the aisle and walked right into me.

  “Fudge nuggets!” she exclaimed. Camp swearing. “Claudia, the fuck?” Regular swearing.

  “Sorry,” I said, then held up a red bird feeder. “Do you think Hana would like this?”

  Her harsh expression immediately softened. “Oh, that’s so sweet.” Her voice went from razor to butter knife. “She can hang it on the roof edge outside her window.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guy pass by at the other end of the aisle. I turned, but only caught the back of his blond head, in a UMaine sweatshirt. I wanted to run after him and get a better look, but of course I didn’t.

  Bee frowned, then handed the bird feeder back to me. She searched my eyes for a half second, then said, “You’re cool, Claudia.”

  “Thanks.” I nodded. “What did you get?” I pointed to her bag.

  She froze. “Um, deodorant.”

  I headed toward the counter to pay. Don’t act weird, don’t act weird. I bought the bird feeder, I didn’t know what else to do. As the smiling woman rang it up and bagged it, I wished so much that this whole trip had never happened.

  On the ride home, John drove at a much more normal pace, Donald glowering with sparklers, fireworks, and mysteriously obtained alcohol in the front, Ben under his massive pile of toiletries on my right, Bee lost in thought to my left. I felt suffocated in the middle.

  I closed my eyes and retreated to the corner in my head where I kept everything shitty.

  The confused look in my mom’s eyes. My “friends’” mocking laughter. My uncle’s sneers. Long strands of black hair.

  I added the bird feeder to the pile, scattered a handful of paper stars. I couldn’t bring myself to leave her smile there yet, though.

  At dinner, I watched Hana from across the room—she always sat with the emptiest table. I usually snuck glances at her, but this was different. I looked for signs of anything, suspicious behavior of any sort.

  Her dark curly hair hung damp and tousled.

  But there it was: I saw her look down at her pocket, take out her cell ph
one under the table. She stuck it back in, then got up and went to the bathroom.

  I felt like I might throw up.

  Maybe she was just texting a friend.

  I had to know for sure.

  I grabbed Donald and dragged him out to the flagpole.

  “I need your help,” I said. “I need you to come with me to the volleyball court tonight.”

  “I’m flattered.” Donald smiled and raised an eyebrow. “But I don’t think I’m your type.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said. “Your brother told me that Hana’s hooking up with some guy from town, and when they get together, it’s at the volleyball court.”

  I expected him to be shocked, but he just nodded, slowly. “Is his name Christopher?”

  “You know him?” I gulped down a scream. Donald knew about this guy, too.

  “No. Just of him.” He ran a hand over his face in thought. “I don’t think…I mean, I don’t think Bee would let Hana get back together with Christopher.”

  “Well,” I said, “contrary to popular belief, Bee doesn’t actually have control over what her sister does.”

  Donald stared at me, puffed out his cheeks, let out a sigh of air. “I mean, John’s the worst…” He trailed off. “But he doesn’t usually lie. I don’t think.”

  I looked at him sharply.

  “I’m a virgin, so.”

  I nodded. “Right, so.”

  “But this is Camp Dogberry,” Donald continued. “So he might just be repeating a rumor.”

  “Right, but…I heard Bee run into this guy, Chris, at Reny’s. They talked about Hana—it sounded like she’s still talking to him.”

  That brought Donald up short. “Maybe we should talk to Bee?”

  “No way.” I shook my head. “If Hana was hooking up with someone else, it’s not like Bee would tell us.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t know,” he mused. “So talk to Hana?”

  “I don’t want to accuse her of anything until I know this is real,” I explained. “If John’s wrong about this…I can’t risk it.” Truthfully, I couldn’t imagine asking her.

  “Should we tell Ben?” He jerked a thumb in the direction of Snowshoe.

  “No way. He’d throw a fit. They’re like family. So are you in?”

  Donald paused, then nodded in agreement. Say a lot of things about Donald, but he’s a loyal friend.

  “Oh, and speaking of Ben,” I said. “Did you see that he bought a crap ton of mouthwash?”

  OWLS HOOTED, STARS danced, I wrestled out of my sleeping bag. Luckily, our twelve-year-olds in Little Bat slept like logs, and salty Hana had crashed right after sing-along, done in by five hours of swimming and the ten verses of “Princess Pat.”

  Normally, I would’ve been crashing too. Ever since polar bear swim, my head had been spinning like a wheel of fortune, landing randomly on a hundred different tasks: Were the CITs okay? Were they in their right spots, doing their work? Did Raph have everything he needed? Were the campers bored of pretending to be stuck in Jell-O? Would they remember how to improv for the parents performance? Please remember how to improv. Are the goats good? Did everyone look adequately like a pirate?

  This evening, in moments of brief camp pause, the wheel sometimes landed on: Was Hana getting in over her head with Claudia? Why was she texting Christopher again? Was Donald still hurt that I’d shot him down?

  But tonight, the wheel had spun and stuck on what I’d been avoiding, and I had to get out of the cabin.

  I threw on my sandals, grabbed my Reny’s bag, and tiptoed down the porch steps. The salt cut through my big, emotional breaths. My legs shook.

  “Calm down,” I whispered to them. “Calm down.”

  I thought about going to the art building. Maybe do some origami, like Hana did when she was feeling the feels. I couldn’t sit still, though. I hiked forward.

  I stopped in Dam, flicked on the lights, went into the bathroom, changed my shirt. I stared at myself in the mirror:

  Wow.

  Gross.

  Wow.

  Gross.

  I mean, I looked good, really good, but I was simultaneously utterly disgusted with myself. I wanted to fist-bump the girl in the mirror, and tell her how gorgeous she was. Alternatively, I wanted to shake my head and dismiss her for being so naive.

  I changed back into my pajama shirt.

  Outside again, I followed the moonlight past Dam, past the garden, past Luna. I stopped briefly to look out at the ocean. Something was still wrong. Why could I barely breathe?

  The moonlight led me to Stickleback. I stepped inside—the Bandytails had been there. It reeked of raccoon poop. I walked through the maze of rope and metal clips on the floor, made it to the old dinghy in the corner, sat down in it, and immediately began to sob.

  Now my whole body shook from crying. Long, low moans and shrieks escaped me, vibrating my lips. I couldn’t keep up with wiping the tears away. I curled into a ball, to try and suppress it, but whatever was in me forced its way out: I must’ve cried for an hour straight.

  And then all at once, it was over, and I was whimpering. My head felt clearer. I could hear what I was thinking—

  College. I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave.

  Hana. I don’t want to leave her. She’s messed up still. My parents can’t handle it. They don’t get it.

  Donald. I don’t want to lose him. He feels further away now.

  Raph. Could he please shut up about how the world is better somewhere else?

  Everything’s changing, no matter what knots I tie.

  Ben.

  I’d avoided Ben as much as I could today. Both in person and in my head. But then it rushed at me all at once:

  Ben, I like you, too. Wanna, like, do stuff?

  Ben, I heard you’re, like, in love with me. Is that true? ’Cause ha-ha-ha-ha, me too.

  Ben, PLEASE ACTUALLY END SPORTS ON TIME FOR ONCE.

  Memories pushed forward. I couldn’t stop them. Smiles, hikes, hands, inside jokes, text messages, video chats. There was so much, so much I had shoved down and away.

  Last summer.

  I thought about it. I really thought about it. Not just thought about not thinking about it. I remembered the whole thing, all the way through.

  And then I remembered it again.

  And again.

  I played the memories over and over, and they hurt more each time, like biting down on chapped lips.

  I tried to add the new information to them—that though these were painful things that had happened, we had liked, maybe loved, each other this whole time.

  It was baffling.

  Ben, you totally baffle me.

  I started to cry again, softly this time. I drifted off, crying in a boat in a raccoon-pooped shed. And then, just as I lost consciousness, I felt a little better.

  ONCE QUIET HOURS started, around nine, Donald and I ditched our cabins, jumped on the trail, and made our way up to Monarch. As soon as we got to the edge of the clearing, I wished I had never come at all.

  Illuminated by the moon, two figures. One a girl, with dark curly hair, splayed out in the sand. The other a blond guy, in a bright white UMaine sweatshirt, pressed on top of her. I watched as they rolled over. Donald’s sharp intake of breath next to me confirmed that it wasn’t one of my paranoid nightmares. This was actually happening, right now, in front of me.

  Donald’s hand reached for mine. “Claud, I’m so sorry—”

  I turned and sprinted back to the path, back to the crossroads at the waterfront. I stopped there, bent over, heaved up giant bursts of air. Black dots splattered my vision. Every bad emotion shimmied up my spine, into my head, pounded in my skull.

  “Claudia!” Donald caught up with me. He kneeled down so we were face-to-face. “Are you okay?”

  I didn’t respond. It was a pointless question.

  “I need to…” I started. But then I realized I didn’t know what I needed. I needed to have never fallen in love with Hana Leonato.

 
“Look,” Donald started. “Did you two…Ah, did you ever say you were exclusive?”

  I dropped to sit, right in the middle of the trail. I racked my brain.

  “No,” I eventually whispered. We hadn’t. I’d just felt it. I’d just thought.

  “So maybe she didn’t realize it was a big deal to you,” Donald’s voice floated in through the storm clouds.

  My heart clung to that idea—that she didn’t know how much it would hurt me. If she had, she couldn’t have done it, right?

  But my brain latched on to another thought—that she hadn’t told me. We talked about her depression, her sister, her school…and she hadn’t told me Chris was still in the picture?

  “I can’t deal with this right now,” I said.

  “Let’s go back to the cabins,” Donald suggested, and held out a hand. “Maybe you should sleep on it.”

  “Good idea.”

  He helped me up and looked me in the eye. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Okay,” I replied, even though I couldn’t see how.

  He squeezed my shoulder before we split up, walking back to our separate cabins.

  I got in my sleeping bag but did absolutely no sleeping.

  I WOKE UP at five a.m., and at first I thought I just felt gross because I’d been sleeping on a tarp all night. But as I trudged back onto the trail, my nose started to run. Bee’s Midnight Romance Worries had clearly been a walloping success.

  I diverted to Big Bat, AKA my house, and crawled onto the couch in the living room. An hour or so later, Mom woke me up and shepherded me to the dining hall for early morning pancakes, which were almost worth the terrible sleep. It was nice to spend some alone time with her—although she kept asking me if something was wrong. I pleaded lack of REM.

  “You’re sick?”

  “I think just tired.” I blew my nose. “It’ll probably clear up on the weekend, when I can sleep forever.”

  She laughed and ran her hand over my hair. “Well, try to get a nap in this afternoon after checkout, or you’ll be drifting off during the fireworks. Have you checked your mail? You got more stuff from EBU.”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, you can take care of that this weekend, too,” she said, like it was no big deal. College paperwork. It took the fun out of paperwork.