by SM Koz
As hard as I tried to fall back asleep, it was useless. The others were loud, the sun was bright, and the smell of pancakes was overwhelming. I attempted to crawl out of my sleeping bag, but soon realized every muscle in my body was stiff. My back, my legs, my arms, yesterday’s hike really took its toll on my body. Not to mention my feet. I looked down to the socks that were crusted with dirt. Groaning with each movement, I leaned over and peeked in my compact mirror. What I saw caused me to gasp. I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. My face was dirty, mascara from yesterday was smudged, and I had dark circles under my eyes. I used water from my canteen to wash away as much grime as possible and then covered everything else up with a fresh coat of foundation. I was going to need a real shower sometime soon. Then I remembered my plan. I would be taking a shower in my own bathroom in no time. That realization significantly brightened my outlook. I exited my tent and wandered over to the fire, taking a seat next to Mia.
“Good morning, Princess. So nice of you to join us,” Chris said, flipping a pancake.
I ignored her and grabbed a pancake from the stack. Nibbling on the edge, I was struck by how good it was. Either I was so hungry that everything tasted good or Chris was an outstanding cook. Either way, I wasn’t about to let her know how much I enjoyed her food.
“So, Kelsie, since you were sleeping when we selected chores, you are stuck with what was left,” Chris said.
“Fine, whatever.”
“You’ll be washing dishes this morning.”
“Great.”
“And you also have grunt work.”
I paused mid-chew. Why did I have grunt work? And what was grunt work?
“What’s grunt work?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent.
“It’s the result of not listening to me. You didn’t eat lunch yesterday, you talked numerous times when you knew you were supposed to be quiet, you didn’t share something with the group last night, and you didn’t get up on time today. So, you’ll be hauling up drinking water from the river. Three containers for each offense.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said with a sneer.
After breakfast, Chris directed everyone to start their chores. As Bling and I washed dishes, I kept an eye on the other teens. Juicehead and Neeky were chopping dead trees for firewood under Jason’s supervision and Mia was talking to Chris and rummaging through a collection of food. They seemed to be in decent moods, talking a little. Mia even laughed at something Chris said. I looked at Bling who was aggressively scraping burnt pancake off the bottom of a pan.
“Where are you from?” I tried.
“Where do you wants me ta be from, darlin’?” He had a similar accent to Juicehead, but it was much thicker.
I tried again, ignoring his response. “How old are you?”
“Old enough.”
Old enough for what? I gave up asking him anything else, afraid of what the answer may be. Instead, we finished washing dishes in complete silence.
Chris noticed when we were done and approached me with two large plastic containers.
“These are for water. Each one holds five gallons and you need to fill up twelve of them,” she told me.
“Where do I get the water?”
“At the river, down the hill,” she said pointing to her left.
I looked to where she was pointing, but didn’t see anything. “Where?”
“It’s about a quarter mile down the hill. Just follow the trail, you can’t miss it.”
After stuffing a few toiletries into the pocket of my hoodie, I took off with the containers. Behind me, I heard heavy footsteps and the rustle of leaves as someone with very little grace followed me. Turning around, I saw it was Neeky.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Grunt work. Just like you.”
“Why do you have grunt work?”
“Because I talked during our hike yesterday.” At least Chris was consistent.
I turned around without another word. As I walked, I calculated my total distance for all twelve containers. If I carried two each trip, it would be three miles total. With my blisters and soreness from the ten miles yesterday, I had very little motivation to do this. What was she going to do if I refused? Give me more grunt work tomorrow? Hopefully I’d be on a plane back to California then. The one appealing part of the chore was the river. I needed to wash my hands and face, so I continued down the trail, figuring I could fill up two containers and tell Chris that’s all I was doing.
Unfortunately, the trail was not cleared nearly as well as the one from the day before. After a couple minutes, I was knee-high in weeds and had to bushwhack my way through. To really top things off, the last fifty feet or so was steep. I had to hold onto low-hanging branches so I didn’t fall face first onto the jagged rocks lining the trail.
Once I finally arrived at the river, I dropped the containers and squatted on the shore, dipping my cupped hands into the cool water and splashing my face. Reaching into the pocket of my hoodie, I pulled out my face wash and went to work scrubbing away the grime that had accumulated.
While I was preoccupied with hygiene, Neeky waded into the water and submerged his containers. When all the air bubbles disappeared, he tried to haul them out, but they didn’t budge.
“Shit, these are heavy,” he said.
He focused on one container, using both hands to drag it the couple feet to the shore. Then, he returned to get the other one.
I had finished cleaning myself, so I moved closer to him and lowered one of my containers into the water. At the same time, Neeky picked up one of his, cradled it to his chest, and headed back towards our campsite.
I bit my lip, seeing him struggle up the hill. If he was having problems, there was no way I’d be able to do it.
Once my first container was full, I used both arms and hoisted it out of the water. It had to weigh like fifty pounds. I’d be lucky if I could carry it the full quarter-mile.
I lowered the container to the shore and kicked it with my socked foot forgetting about the blisters. The pain shot up my leg and I cursed Chris once more.
At that point, I decided to change my plans. Forget delivering two containers. I’d return empty handed and Chris could just deal with it.
Close to the end of the trail, I caught up with Neeky whose face was red and beaded with sweat. He was huffing and puffing and I was a little worried he might have a heart attack.
“You okay there, Neeky?” I asked.
“Who’s Neeky?” he panted.
“You.”
“You gave me a nickname?”
I shrugged, realizing he might not be too thrilled with the name I selected.
We then rounded the final curve of the trail and entered the campsite where everyone was sitting around the fire.
“Nice work, Samuel,” Chris said to Neeky. “Where’s your container, Kelsie?”
“I’m not a pack mule. If you want water, get it yourself.”
I escaped to my tent where I began meticulously reapplying my makeup. Through the flimsy walls, I heard the conversation around the fire. “I guess y’all were right,” Chris said. “Kelsie’s weak. She can’t handle it.”
I froze, mascara brush against my eyelashes.
“I really thought she’d do better. Guess I overestimated her,” Chris continued.
I gritted my teeth and yanked the zipper on my tent door. “I am not weak!” I yelled, sticking my head out. “I could easily carry twelve of those stupid containers if I wanted to. I just don’t want to!”
“That’s a shame because we can’t eat lunch until you finish grunt work.”
“Like I care.”
I retreated back to my tent, zipping the door behind me, and finished my face with a swipe of lip gloss. The smiling girl in the small mirror looked happy, but I certainly didn’t feel happy. I couldn’t believe the others thought I was weak. I suddenly felt very alone again.
The zipper of my tent moved. “You need to keep your door open, Kelsi
e,” Chris said, peeking inside.
I lay back on my sleeping bag and watched the others. Neeky had come back with his second container, which meant he only had one more. Jason was relaxing in a hammock he had strung between two trees. Juicehead and Mia were talking. Bling sat across from them with a frown on his face as he poked at the fire with a stick.
He glanced in my direction and caught my eye. “Move yo lazy cracker ass!”
“Mind your own business!” I yelled back.
“It’s all ours biz. We ain’t missin’ a meal ‘cause a you!”
“You won’t miss a meal. She has to feed us.”
“You’re right,” Chris said. “I do have a responsibility to feed you, but the quality of the food is not stipulated. I have ten pounds of falafel mix and I have no problem making that until you deliver all twelve canisters of water.”
And falafel is precisely what we got for lunch. It was awful. Dry and flavorless, plus it seemed to do a number on our stomachs. I had to rush to the latrine a couple times. By the smell and sounds of others farting, I figured they had similar reactions.
“Please do your grunt work,” Mia pleaded to me after Neeky let one rip. “I can’t handle another meal of that.”
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving soon so it won’t be much longer.”
“Are you always this selfish?” Juicehead asked.
“I’m not selfish.”
“Really? You know that your laziness is affecting everyone here, but all you can think about is proving to Chris she can’t control you.”
I scowled in his direction because that was definitely part of it.
“I don’t think it’s that,” Neeky said, glaring at me. “She can’t do it. Those containers are heavy.”
“If you did it, I can do it.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
“That’s lame.”
“And strengthens my argument.” He got up and went to his tent while the others all scowled at me.
“What?!” I screamed, throwing my pillow across the tent. “You just expect me to go get water now. After I refused all day long?”
“Yes!” they yelled in unison.
“Fine!” I shouted, pushing myself up. “I am not weak!”
Still angry with the group, I huffed down to the river where I left the containers from earlier. I leaned over, picked up the filled one, and cradled it in my arms. The steep uphill trek was excruciating. I ended up laying the container down, scrambling up the hill a couple feet, then reaching back and dragging the container to me. It took at least ten minutes to make it the fifty feet and I was completely out of breath. After a short break, I picked up the container and started again, but I had to stop every few minutes to rest. About halfway up the hill I noticed blisters were forming on my fingers. Might as well match my hands to my feet, right? Finally, I reached the campsite to find everyone still sitting around like lazy bums.
“If you’ve got nothing else to do, feel free to haul some water,” I yelled throwing the container into the middle of the group.
“No one can help you. You brought this on yourself,” Chris replied calmly.
I turned on my heel ready to make the second trip, but caught myself. I decided to get my backpack—that would make carrying the containers a little easier at least. When I came out of my tent, I glared at Chris. She smiled. The smile was different though, it wasn’t that fake smile indicating impending doom. It was a familiar smile, like how my dad smiled when I won the third-grade spelling bee. Back when things were good. I didn’t want to see that smile on her. She couldn’t look at me like that. She was a terrible, controlling, demanding person. I refused to let her remind me of what my life once was.
The backpack definitely made it easier, but after seven trips, I was exhausted. My sore muscles were screaming for me to stop, the blister on the bottom of my foot was bleeding through the sock. I trudged ahead, thinking only about putting one foot in front of the other like I did the day before. Left, right, left. Then, without warning, my rhythm was broken on the steep section when the branch I was holding onto suddenly snapped. I went flying backwards. I tried to catch myself, but the combination of the weighted backpack and speed at which I was falling made it impossible. I ended up rolling head over heel all the way back to the waterline.
When I finally stopped, I was completely disoriented. I didn’t know which way was up. I lay at the edge of the river for a few minutes to catch my breath and assess the damage. There was definitely new pain. My left knee and face seemed to be the worst. I touched my face—it was warm and sticky. I pulled my hand away and saw that it was covered in blood. I wiped it on my shirt and reached down to my knee, only to find more blood. The funny thing was, even with the new injures, my biggest concern was that I rolled down the damn hill. That meant I needed to walk back up the steep part I had already climbed. I truly hated my life right then.
Once my head cleared, I was able to stand again. I put one foot in front of the other and slowly managed to make it back to the campsite. I took the pack off, pulled out the water container, and threw it at Chris’s feet.
She looked at my face. “Problems?”
“No.”
“Let me take a look at you,” she said reaching for me.
I pushed her away. “I said I’m fine.”
“Yes, but you might need stitches,” she said, reaching up to my face with the edge of her shirt. She wiped the excess blood away, examined the cut, and then poured a little water over it. She did the same with my knee and then reached into a first-aid kit and pulled out antibiotic ointment and two Band-Aids. After applying them to the cuts, she agreed I’d be fine and told me to finish up the last four water containers so we could have a good dinner. I looked to the group. They were lounging around the fire doing absolutely nothing.
Then, Bling said, “It’s five. We be starving. Move it, girl!”
I glanced at each of them, other than Neeky who wasn’t there. Mia looked to the ground as soon as our eyes met. Juicehead held my gaze. His face seemed different, kind of contorted like he was trying to solve a difficult math problem or something. Tears welled up in my eyes—I was exhausted and they all still hated me. I wasn’t sure what I actually proved by spending hours hauling water.
I threw my pack on in disgust and headed back down to the river. When I was filling up the containers, I heard rustling in the weeds along the shore. My heart skipped a beat. I thought it might be a wild animal drawn to all the blood along the trail. I moved out farther in the water hoping it wouldn’t follow me there.
“Do you really need to get into waist-deep water to fill those up?”
Juicehead cleared the weeds and was smiling at me.
“I thought you were a mountain lion coming to kill me.”
“Is hiding in the water an effective deterrent for mountain lions?”
“I think it’s the best one I’ve got.”
He placed three more containers on a rock jutting into the river. “Fill these up while you’re at it.”
I pushed the now full container towards the shore and then waded over to the three he left. “Did Chris send you down here?”
“No.”
“What are you doing then?”
“You looked pitiful back there. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for pitiful little creatures. Plus, I’m getting really hungry.”
I pushed another container to shore. “Well, Bling will be happy that you’re helping.”
“Bling?! Have you shared that name with him?” he asked with a laugh.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t really plan on having many conversations with him. He scares me.”
“Did you make up names for everyone?”
“Yes.”
“What’s mine?”
“Juicehead or Casanova, depending on my mood.”
He frowned. “Maybe not all of your assessments are correct.”
“You’re not a juicehead or you’re not a Casanova?”
“I’m definit
ely a Casanova,” he said with a crooked grin. “But I’m not a juicehead.”
I walked with the third container up to the shore. He reached over and easily pulled it out.
“So all those muscles come naturally?”
“I have good genes.”
He loaded one container into my pack and two into his. He then picked up the last container and carried it with one hand.
“What are the other names?”
“Neeky and Mia.”
“You’re going to have to explain those,” he said offering me his free hand. I grabbed it and he pulled me up the steepest part of the hill.
“Neeky for nerdy geek and Mia clearly has bulimia.”
“What’s your name?”
“Kelsie.”
“No, no, no. If we all get names based on first impressions, you need one, too.”
I shrugged my shoulders, dismissing his words.
After a few moments, he said, “Malibu Krueger.”
I shook my head in disgust and looked away.
He continued, “It’s perfect. You’ve got that Malibu Barbie look with your blond hair, long legs, and dark tan, but clearly you have a dark, destructive side.”
I involuntarily reached for the silver bracelet on my wrist to make sure it was still there. He noticed. “I don’t know who you’re trying to fool with that bracelet—it doesn’t hide a thing.”
We walked in silence for a few minutes.
“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll just call you Mal, if you call me JC instead of Juicehead or Casanova.”
“Fine. Did Chris say anything when you started walking down here?”
“She told me not to do it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“That means you’ll get grunt work tomorrow.”
“Probably.”
When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “I actually welcome a little grunt work. I could use some manual labor. It’s killing me not being able to go to the gym. Running hills with water containers will be a perfect workout.”