Nothing Happened

by Molly Booth

  “It was colorful.” I nodded. “And very definitive.”

  He barely heard me. “I just don’t get it. I tried to talk to them reasonably, and they just wanted to trash Hana. Something’s wrong with them.”

  My calm, listening demeanor evaporated instantly. The Jell-O in my stomach turned into liquid fire. Trash Hana. Those losers. Those complete and absolute fuckers. I would tear out their hearts and eat them in the dining hall. I would—

  “Hey.” A hand rested on my knee. My bare knee. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want you to know I’m on your side, here, Bee.”

  My eyes followed his hand up to his wrist, his elbow, his T-shirt line, his neck, his face. His eyes.

  “Our side,” I corrected. “Hana’s side.”

  “Hana’s side,” he said. “How is she?”

  My nose immediately wrinkled in an effort not to sob. “Bad,” I said, my throat choking. “She’s really bad.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Yes.” I preemptively wiped under my eyes. “It seems like this Claudia thing brought back her depression full force.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “She wants to leave camp and go stay with my aunt in Portland, but my parents don’t love that idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “They want her to stick it out.” I bit my lip. “And they want to be able to keep track of where Hana’s at.”

  “That kind of makes sense?”

  “But the real solution is super clear to me,” I said. “Hana shouldn’t go, Claudia and Donald should.”

  Ben didn’t hesitate this time. “I wish they would.”

  “She’s sinking, Ben.” I looked at him again. “She’s sinking, and I don’t know what to do—”

  Without warning, for either of us, I ducked my head onto his shoulder. His arm went around me. I scrunched my face up really tight, trying to squeeze out tears and keep them in all at once. Ben smelled strangely refreshing and tropical.

  “It’ll be okay,” he whispered, his voice touching my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “I promise, it’ll be okay. She’ll be okay.”

  I pulled my head up. A few stray tears fell from my eyes, but I didn’t care—I pushed my lips into his. Then away, then back again. For a few moments, I only felt the kissing, the warm and fuzzies racing through all parts of me. This was better than winning.

  We broke for air, and the pause became a halt. Ben’s hands grasped my face, my hand lay on his stomach. We breathed like that, staring at each other, for maybe a whole minute.

  I got up first, fighting the urge to rip his clothes off. Ugh. How could I be feeling so many things at once?

  We walked back to the head of the entrance trail. Our hands found each other, intertwined. We hesitated at the opening.

  “Maybe there’s some way you can show her?” Ben said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Maybe there’s a way to show Hana you don’t want her to go,” he said.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. There must be something.”

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to imagine the big gesture. What would get through to Hana. How could I make her see?

  The frogs peeped. The stars danced.

  And an idea came to me.

  I KISSED BEN for the first time two years ago.

  One night in January, Ben’s mom brought him and his sisters over. It was after dinner, I remember, because it wasn’t a normal time to have people over. That was confusing. There was something hushed about the whole thing, too.

  Knowing what I know now, Mom was probably giving Colleen advice or help. Mom had gotten out of a bad relationship a long time ago that she sometimes talked about. Maybe Ben’s mom was thinking about leaving his stepdad then.

  So yeah, Maine, January, freezing, always snowing. Suddenly, Mom told us the Rosenthals were coming over. I remember running upstairs and changing into my favorite shirt at the time—my long-sleeved Ethiopian pro soccer shirt, striped green and yellow with red trim. I don’t know why I thought wearing my favorite shirt was important.

  They’d shown up a few minutes later. Colleen and Ben carried in the twins, both asleep in their big girl car seats. Nessa insisted we play a board game, so Hana and I set up Monopoly in the living room, while our parents “had coffee” in the kitchen. Ben kept getting up to check on the twins. I remember thinking it was so weird to see him in winter clothes—plaid flannel bottoms and this dorky argyle sweater.

  All through the night I tried not to look at him. Eventually, Nessa ran out of steam, and Dad asked us to tuck her into Hana’s bed. I remember exchanging an awkward glance with Ben, like we were thinking the same thing:

  Were they really not going home yet?

  After we settled Nessa, Hana said she was ready for bed, too, and went to sleep in my room. Ben and I wandered into the kitchen. Our parents were huddled around our small wooden kitchen table, heads bent forward. I got one brief look at Colleen’s face, and I turned around and pushed Ben back with me, before he could see.

  But my mom saw us and brightly asked if Ben and I would go get firewood.

  Phew. Something to do.

  We both grunted a yes, bundled up, and went out into the snow, neither of us saying a word. Which was a miracle in retrospect, because my hat was covered in pom-poms, and his pointy blue hat made him look an elf.

  The air didn’t nip—it bit at our cheeks. We stomped a trail through the crunchy snow, around the side of the house, grabbed a few logs, and shuffled back to the front door and set them down. We’d done our task, but for some reason, it seemed like we weren’t going inside right away.

  We looked at each other. Ben’s cheeks were bright red, his nose had started to run. When looking at each other got too awkward, I glanced up.

  There’s nothing more beautiful than a Maine sky at night. You can see every single star, big or small, bright or fading. I loved it, and Ben was looking at it like he loved it too. For the first time that night, I let myself feel excited he was here, and that I got to see him in the middle of winter, like magic. I felt my heart rise up, up into the starry black sky. It floated up there, gently bouncing between the lights.

  I glanced over at him; he was already looking at me. His kind, twinkly eyes, strands of floppy brown hair swooshed over his forehead, squished under his elf hat.

  Suddenly, we were a foot apart. I pursed my lips. Kissing, right?

  He reached out a hand, grabbed mine.

  I fell closer, and our lips met. One second, one kiss: floating, starry.

  When we drew back, I looked at him and quickly said, “Um, this never happened, okay?”

  I SAT WITH Rachel and Ellie at evening campfire, with dozing littles in our laps. Apparently, Margo had been in Black Bear for a headache and was now asleep.

  I tried not to enjoy seeing Ben across the flames too much.

  Later, past bedtime, on my way back from another visit to the parking lot, I felt someone hovering behind me on the trail.

  “Hey!” I called softly. “Do you need a buddy?”

  Claudia stepped forward, out of the shadows.

  “Ugh, not you,” I said. “You’ve already got one.” I turned around and started to march toward my cabin.

  “Wait!” Claudia called out.

  “I’ll pass!” I called back.

  “No, seriously, Bee—”

  She caught up with me, face-to-face. I always forgot Claudia was taller than me. The bags under her eyes were as dark as squished blueberries. She wore boxer shorts and a black T-shirt. I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” I said.

  “Same,” Claudia said quickly.

  “Great.” I went to turn around—

  “But I want to know how Hana’s doing?”

  I turned back. Her face looked hopeful, in the way Claudia’s face can. Not quite as serious, eyebrows slightly arched instead of a terrifying straight line across. Wh
at did Hana see in this asshole?

  “Maybe you want to know that,” I said slowly. “But you don’t get to.”

  Her lips quivered ever so slightly. “I know, but…I heard she’s leaving.”

  Ha! The Dogberry rumor mill. Hana hadn’t shown up to work in three days, so I guessed that made sense. What did this girl want me to do, though? Tell her the location of the person she’d beaten up on? How dare she?

  “Yeah, she’s gone.” I spat it out. “She left, because you made her life here miserable. You made up a shitty rumor, and she fell apart, and now she’s gone. Are you happy?” The lie came out fast, and I didn’t care that it wasn’t all true. It was only not true yet.

  “I—”

  “You gigantic bully,” I said, stabbing a finger at her. She winced and stepped back. “Do you get off on making other people feel bad?”

  “Bully?” she sputtered. “I know all about bullying, believe me. The kids at my school—”

  “Boo-hoo,” I snapped. “So school’s rough sometimes. You think it wasn’t for me?”

  “Umm, no, but—”

  “So shut up!” I heard my voice getting too loud. “If you take it out on other people, you’re just like them.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing!” Claudia’s voice almost matched mine. “Your sister cheated on me, Bee!”

  I shook my head. “Bullshit. I hope all of this was worth it. And I hope you don’t miss her. Because now she’s gone, and she’s going to miss the entire summer at camp, our last summer before I leave. So good on you for taking that away from her.” I was done. I turned around and stomped away. When I got to my cabin, I glanced back—Claudia was sitting on the side of the trail, her face buried in her hands.

  Fuck you, I thought.

  And then I quietly burst into tears.

  I zagged and went home to Big Bat. Rachel was in my cabin for the night, she could handle it.

  WAKING UP FROM my dream—

  I’m in her arms.

  I’m touching her.

  And then I’m drowning, gasping for air, choking on sharp gulps of water, the sunlight tries to reach me, but I’m already too deep—

  My bed. The sheets, wrinkled and damp from sweat. It took me moments to understand where I was, who I was, why I was here.

  “What can you do to help yourself feel better, Hana?” Louisa had asked me earlier, in our session.

  “I can sleep,” I’d said. “And pretend this never happened.”

  “What about work?” Louisa pressed. “You love swimming, teaching.”

  “It’s a little hard to swim when your body feels like lead,” I explained patiently.

  It hadn’t been the worst session. But I hadn’t felt a whole lot better leaving it. She must’ve talked to my parents, because she didn’t want me to leave camp, either. Why didn’t they get it was killing me to stay?

  I have to go. Now, I realized. I can’t wait. If I see her one more time, I’ll drown.

  I had never been so miserable before. Well, in months. Being this miserable was impossible.

  It was late. Really late. No one to keep tabs on me.

  I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and sneakers. I don’t need to visit Aunt Beth, I thought. I can go somewhere else.

  Christopher. Christopher wouldn’t turn me away, if I showed up at his house. Christopher understands miserable. He would let me crash. Or we’d drive somewhere. And maybe he’d kiss me….

  My hands grabbed the car keys. I closed the front door quietly behind me.

  It felt like ten miles to get to the parking lot, but I finally reached the blue hatchback. Dad’s new car. I jumped in the passenger’s seat, before realizing I was on the wrong side.

  I settled behind the wheel, moving the seat up a few inches so my foot could safely reach the pedals. I was only just learning to drive, but I didn’t intend to get pulled over. And if I did, what was the worst that would happen? I’d get arrested? The thought made me laugh inside, just a little.

  I rotated the key carefully, feeling the engine wake up. I realized I needed to plug my phone in—I knew how to get to Christopher’s, but I’d never driven there myself before. I flipped on the overhead lights and rummaged around for the phone charger in the glove compartment, but it wasn’t there. I turned to check the back.

  There, on the seat, was a pile of gear.

  At first I sighed, thinking I would need to sneakily drop this off back at camp before I could go, in case they needed it tomorrow.

  But then I saw whose gear it was: mine.

  My old purple backpack with the daisies on it, monogrammed with my initials. The orange two-person tent my parents got us when we were little so Bee and I could camp out together. My mess kit and mini cooler, with my name written in all caps in black Sharpie: HANA.

  I picked up the backpack and plunked it in the space between the front seats. Inside were a change of clothes, a pair of pajamas, a bathing suit, bug spray, sunscreen, a small thing of dry shampoo, and a toothbrush kit, all the kind we sell in the camp store. There was even a plastic bag with scissors and origami paper.

  Only one person could’ve put this backpack together.

  Heart pounding, I realized who it was.

  Slowly, I unzipped the tiny top pocket, the one that didn’t really fit anything. Except a small piece of paper, with a message, written in sloppy Magic Marker:

  Hana. I love you. Please don’t go. ♥

  Under the overhead car lights, I reread the note four times, then folded it up and held it in my lap.

  I could go. I could put the car in reverse, and back up, and follow the dirt road to the highway. I could go to Christopher’s, where he’d probably make out with me. Or I could pull over on the highway instead, and sit in the dirty highway grass, and cry and cry and cry, and when I was soaked with tears, I could go find a river and wash it off.

  But I loved Camp Dogberry. In a way, this note was from this place too.

  But it was mostly from Bee.

  I turned off the car. My feet found their way—down the dirt trail, up the front porch steps, up the stairs.

  Bee was in her bedroom, waiting up, reading. She smiled when I came in.

  “Hey, baby.”

  I crawled up into the bed, in between her and the window. I fell asleep with my back pressed against her.

  THURSDAY. WE’D ALMOST made it through another week. I was actually pretty sad to see this group go home. My silly, cranky peanuts.

  They had even sort of distracted me from the terrible secret that had been taking over my brain, and from that terrible conversation with Margo. And now she was sick and MIA?

  Sophia and I had our break at the same time Thursday morning, when we dropped the kids off at swim, right after breakfast. I helped them use the buddy board (most of them got it by now), moved their towels far enough away from the shoreline, and waved good-bye.

  “Come hang out with me in Luna!” Sophia grabbed my arm. She’d been kind of obsessed with hanging out in the “counselor room” ever since Fourth of July. I didn’t love how hot it got up there, but there were some video games, sooo…

  As we walked away, I looked back one more time. No Hana, again. Just Judy with the sub instructor. I felt the creeping secret again. I turned and followed Sophia.

  Luna’s loft was empty. We fell back onto the couches, took out the old Nintendo console.

  I’m usually awesome at the racing games. Ben made me learn when I was little so he’d have competition at home. But the third time I came in last, Sophia paused the game.

  “Okay.” She shifted on the couch, bouncing to face me. She wore lime green today. “What is wrong with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why have you been weird all week?” she said. “You won’t be on Team Claudia with us, you mope around, you spend all your free time with your campers—you’re hardly taking breaks unless I make you!”

  “I’m trying to get hired next year,” I reminded her.

  �
��It’s not just that, though,” Sophia insisted. “You’re more lethargic than Gustavo.”

  “Can you not compare me to the camp turtle?” I asked. “And hey, Doc gave him some medicine. I think he’s doing a lot better.”

  “Fine. So you’re more lethargic than Gustavo!”

  She waited for me to laugh. I managed a weak smile.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  I bit my lip. “I can’t?”

  She grabbed my arm. “Now you’re freaking me out, Nessa! You have to tell me!”

  “I’m not freaking you out!” I complained. “You’ve done that to yourself!”

  “Fine! So help me and tell me! What’s the worst that could happen?”

  You’ll tell everyone, I said to myself. Then I realized: maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing? But Margo might hate me forever. I liked hearing rumors. I didn’t start them…but if I didn’t tell someone, would that creeping sensation ever go away? It would feel so good to be done with it….

  “Hey.” Wallace appeared over the railing, at the top of the stairs. “So I heard something, at Capture the Flag.”

  Sophia and I looked at each other. Wallace sat down and methodically explained the conversation he’d heard between Ben and Claudia and Donald. When he’d finished, my head was stuffed in a beanbag chair again.

  “Okay,” I groaned into the fabric, then sat up. “My turn.”

  And then I spilled my guts. I watched Sophia’s jaw drop farther and farther. I almost stopped to laugh, but it felt so good to tell her, both of them. When I finished with Margo’s reaction, she smacked her forehead.

  “Nessa, why would you tell Margo?”

  “I don’t know!” I said. “It was about her?”

  “She’s obviously in the middle of this.” Sophia shook her head. “You know who you need to tell.”

  “My brother.”

  “Yup. We’ve got lunch plans.”

  HANA DIDN’T GO to work on Thursday. But she didn’t insist on leaving, either, so that was a win. Meanwhile, both my parents were pissed at me.

  “Do you know anything about this?” Mom shook her phone in my direction.