by Lizzy Ford
I emerge from the room dissatisfied, feeling as though I’m leaving behind everything I own. I guess, in a way, I am. That seems to be the purpose of camping: to get away from everyone and everything you’ve ever known.
I’ve never had that desire, though, so this is even more uncomfortable for me.
The skies are cloudy. There’s no sign of rain, and I silently pray that the weather report is wrong. It’s going to be rough enough without being miserable in the rain.
We all board a bus that takes us to another point in the forest where Petr and Mikael set up the obstacle course. The kids are excited, and their enthusiasm puts me at ease. I sit with them on the bus while the other adults all congregate towards the front. Watching them makes me feel even more out of place. They all get along so well. Even Captain Mathis, who is tense around me, is relaxing and smiling with the others.
People don’t relax around me. Can he be right? My delivery drives off people I’m trying to help? I’ve always been a bit socially awkward, more so after my mother died. My father and brothers became overprotective for a few years, and I barely left the house until I was in high school. Stuck in an elite, private school with kids who had grown up with one another, I really didn’t have any motivation to make friends. I didn’t have good friends until college, and I’m grateful that a bunch of them stuck around this area.
The others here are so much better adjusted than I am. I guess it helps that this is their scene, while mine is at home or in college or at the club.
I don’t look too long, and pay attention to the girls I’m sitting with, needing the distraction from our destination.
When we arrive, everyone piles out of the bus. On the other side of the three-mile course is where we’ll be camping. This afternoon is a familiarization round. Tomorrow, the kids will run the course, with the team with the best time winning.
The tree near the start of the course is where Petr and Mikael both carved their names and the date they finished building the course. They did everything together, from laying cement foundations where needed to chopping wood to testing and fortifying every rope, bridge, bar and anything else on the course. It took them a year to build the course. I used to come out with lunches and watch them, helping if and when they’d let me.
The world seems to fade as I gaze at the tree. The others are gathering around Brianna and Harris for a safety briefing. I go instead to the tree.
It’s weird to see Mikael’s name scratched into the bark. I didn’t approve of them doing it, preferring they didn’t harm some innocent tree. But now, I’m kind of glad they did. Seeing his sloppy handwriting is realer than a picture. He touched this, left a mark in a way only he could.
I’m hollow standing before the tree, almost able to imagine every detail about the day he carved his name here. Being in his forest is hard, but standing where he did two years before, looking at his name, is harder.
“Hey, Kitty-Khav.” Petr’s voice is soft. He stops and stands beside me, nudging me with his shoulder. “You doing okay?”
“Not really,” I reply. “I shouldn’t be out here with you guys, Petr. I’m totally out of place.”
“Yeah you’re no fan of camping.”
I sigh.
“Mikael would be happy you’re here.”
“I hope so.” Gazing up at him, I look into the face identical to Mikael’s. I was always the only one who could tell them a part. Petr smiles and I see sadness in his features.
“He would be laughing his ass off if he heard you were here,” he adds.
I roll my eyes, knowing as much. Mikael was the jokester. He used to tease me a lot about being too prissy.
“Baba says you dropped out of school last month.”
I shrug. “No worries.”
“Katya, if you did it because of the time you spent with me …”
“You’re my family.”
“I know, but I’m fine and you’ve got a life to get back to,” he reminds me. “I’m not going anywhere. You can go back and get your degree or take more classes or whatever it is you do.”
I love him too much to feel burned by his words. If Brianna said something similar, this conversation would go very differently.
“Did you ever figure it out?” he prods. “What you want to be when you grow up?”
“An annoying little sister,” I retort.
“Seriously.” He nudges me again. “You’ve spent the past four months worrying about me. I’m worried about you now.”
“You shouldn’t be. I’m just … me, Petr.”
“You could go into child psychology or something. Kids are the only people you get along with.”
I elbow him.
“You’re good at health stuff, too,” he suggests.
“Omigod. I don’t need you telling me what to do!”
“Seriously, Kitty-Khav. There’s got to be something out there you want to do aside from babysit me. You aren’t going to waste your life watching over me,” he says firmly.
“I’m not wasting anything,” I respond. “I just never knew what I wanted to do. Still don’t.” It’s not entirely true. I used to think I wanted to go into psychology, child or adult, until Mikael died. Now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to help other people going through what I have. I can’t dwell or see others dwell in the depths of despair and sadness that I have, even if I’m trying to help them.
It’s too much, too personal, too dark for me. Nothing else really speaks to me in terms of a major to finish college. I’ve always thought my path is to help people somehow.
“Figure it out,” he suggests.
“Don’t be an ass!” I grumble.
“Gotta take care of my little sis!” He wraps his arms around me in a bear hug and lifts me off the ground.
“Stop, Petr!” I cry, wriggling in his arms. “You’re going to knock your leg off!”
“Didn’t I teach you how to get out of this hold?” Captain Mathis asks from behind us.
“I’m not going to hurt my brother!” I snap.
“We can snap his leg right back on,” Riley says.
Petr laughs.
“There is something wrong with all of you!” I yell.
He sets me down and releases me. I push him.
The sight of his grin keeps me from being too cranky with him. I’m secretly happy that Petr is so chipper this week. He’s in such good spirits, and I know it’s because of having his friends around and being at the camp.
“All yours,” he says, turning to Captain Mathis. Petr winks at me and joins his team.
Whatever.
Captain Mathis appears as enthused as I am about being stuck with each other for another day.
The teams leave in twenty-minute intervals to give everyone the chance to learn about the obstacles. I’ve walked through the course but never did the obstacles; I’m curious how much of a train wreck it’ll be tomorrow, when the kids are racing through it.
Our team is last, and the kids sit on a log, waiting and talking quietly. I have to admit – Captain Mathis is right about them staying calm. The other teams are basically bouncing off the trees while our kids are seated and quiet.
“This one is huge!” Jacob is leaning over the side of the log.
I don’t get too close. He’s got a thing for bugs that I noticed yesterday. I’d rather not know what he’s found. The guys gather around him while the three girls join me.
Though she’s six, Jenna has a lot of mannerisms of someone much younger, which I suspect stems from regressing some while trying to cope with the loss of both parents. Her father died at battle and her mother from cancer.
She climbs in my lap and sits while the other two girls, sixteen-year-old Lexi and twelve-year-old Morgan, sit cross-legged in front of me.
Lexi is texting while Morgan seems content watching everyone else. She strikes me as shy and hasn’t said more than two words since arriving.
“So gross.” Lexi is staring at her brother, Jacob, who has the world’
s largest daddy long leg by one leg.
Morgan nods, and I shudder. I really am not the camping type.
“It’s gonna rain,” Lexi says, and shows me the weather forecast on her iPhone app. “You think they’ll let us go back to the dorms?”
“Probably not,” I reply. “Did you all bring rain coats?”
They nod, even Jenna.
“Captain Mathis made us,” Lexi says.
Damn Marine. I know it’s not Captain Mathis’ fault that it’s supposed to rain, but I don’t mind blaming him for it, especially knowing I probably should’ve listened to him.
The skies are overcast but I don’t smell rain yet, and I pray not to see any until we get back in tomorrow evening.
As usual, my luck doesn’t hold long. We make it through the obstacle course, a quick lunch and then begin a hike to the private campground where we’ll be spending the night.
It starts raining an hour before we get there. Not a drizzle – a downpour. I think I’m the only one without a raincoat or poncho. At least the kids and Petr are okay, even if my mood is tanking fast. Quickly soaked and cold, I keep one eye on the kids and another on the muddy trail beneath me. Captain Mathis was right about socks, too, and I’m almost glad I listened. My feet are soaked by the end of our march.
As the last team to go through the course, we’re also the team that spent the most time in the rain.
I’m not sure what to expect when we get to the campground, but it’s not a damn tent city. There’s one that’s acting as a cafeteria and a second one for the kids then four smaller ones, one on each side, that I assume are for the counselors. The bathrooms are modern, at least.
Twisting my hair into a bun, I see the youngest boy, Rory, as he slides in the mud and lands on his face in a puddle. His pack and sleeping bag go sailing and land in a puddle. I’m the last in the caravan, so I stop to help him.
“Gotcha,” I say with a quick smile. My hands are almost numb from cold, and I haul him up.
Only to feel my feet slip in the mud.
We both crash down again. Wetness soaks through one side of me, and I resist the urge to curse in front of him.
Rory is giggling. Unconcerned with the mud, he pushes himself up to his knees and grins at me.
“You’re enjoying this.” I can’t help but smile at the look on his face.
He nods. “Do you think they have cocoa?” he asks.
“I hope so,” I reply, and carefully climb to my feet once more. Grounding myself more firmly, I offer him my hand and pull him up.
I hate being dirty. A glance down at my side shows me that I’m caked with mud. I’m already soaked through and looking forward to crawling into my sleeping bag, where it’s warm.
I spot his sleeping bag in the middle of the puddle and groan internally.
Or maybe I’ll sleep outside in the rain tonight.
“Rory, is this yours?” I ask, picking up one end.
“Yeah.” He wraps his arms around it and carries it towards the tent.
“You can’t sleep in that, honey,” I tell him. I retrieve his backpack and follow.
“Okay.”
I’m not sure what that means. I trail him into the kids’ tent. It’s warm, dry and buzzing with activity. The kids each have a cot with a trunk at the foot where they can put their bags and things. They’re talking and excited, unaffected by the rain. Captain Mathis is with the team, helping them set up their sleeping bags then stowing their stuff away so as not to look messy.
I swear – he’s got to be the most anal person I’ve ever met. Then again, he’s dry and I’m soaked through. I might need to start listening to him about the weather, if nothing else.
Trailing Rory, I’m too miserable and tired to notice perky Brianna until she addresses me.
“Oh, did you fall, Kitty-Khav?” she asks in a syrupy voice. “You should’ve checked the weather.” Unlike me, she’s dry as a bone and smiling. Her team was the first to go through the obstacle course, which meant they probably caught about ten minutes of rain, as opposed to our hour or so.
Fuck off. I don’t say it, because of the kids, but I’m definitely thinking it. I glance at her and keep walking. I’ve been practicing punching my pillow in anticipation of the day I get some alone time with her.
“Katya, I hope it’s okay, but Riley and I are going to stay with the kids tonight just to make sure there are no issues,” she calls after me.
“Sounds good,” I reply, not surprised to be exiled to the pup tents outside.
“I heard Jenna’s a bed wetter, so I’ll come get you if she has any problems.”
I stop, surprised she’d say something like that so loudly. Doesn’t she know how sensitive a kid is to something like that? I was ridiculed as a preteen for my scars; I know how cruel kids can be. Half the tent had to have heard her.
My eyes find Jenna. She’s staring at her feet, her face red. A few of the other kids snicker.
Glancing at Brianna, I see her smirk before she turns away.
Oh, hell no. I shake off my sleeping bag and start towards her, only to be stopped short when someone’s arm wraps around me. I’m pulled back against a hard body I instantly recognize.
“Not the time or place,” Captain Mathis says softly.
“You don’t fuck with a little kid like that!” I whisper and strain against him. It’s one thing for her to pick on me, but on a sweet six year old? Who does that?
He holds me tight against him. “Stop, Katya. We’ll handle it a different way.”
With a frustrated growl, I stop struggling and rest my head back on his shoulder, craning my neck to look up at him. His chiseled jaw is clenched, his brown gaze on Brianna as she walks away.
“Jenna needs a hug, and Marines don’t do that shit,” he adds, nodding his head towards the little girl.
Jenna’s eyes are watering, her chin trembling.
Seeing her like that crushes me. I can’t stand to see someone hurting. I sigh. “Let me go.”
He complies, and I leave him to kneel on the floor beside Jenna. I’m too wet to sit on her bed, so I take her hands. She crawls into my lap, not caring that I’m cold and drenched. She’s warm and smells like a child, her soft hair tickling my nose.
“You’re doing good, sweetie,” I whisper. “Okay? Trust me.”
“Ms. Khav, do you think this will dry before bedtime?” Rory asks, tapping me on the shoulder.
I manage to stand with Jenna in my arms and turn. His cot is the one beside hers, and he’s stretched out the sleeping bag.
It’s completely soaked. There’s no way that thing will be dry in time. It’d take a few cycles in a dryer, which I’m guessing isn’t an option.
This is why camping sucks. “Probably not. You can use mine,” I say without hesitation. “Can you grab it? I left it in the aisle.”
He nods and goes to fetch it.
“If you want to change, I can take care of Jenna.”
Of all the kids on the team, I’m not expecting the tall but skinny Tanner to volunteer.
“I’ve got a little sister,” he adds. He’s staring at me in mild awe, like a teen with a crush.
Amused despite my condition, I decide I’d rather duck out and change socks at least before going to dinner.
“Sure.” I hand off Jenna to him. “You all get ready for dinner, okay?”
He nods and hefts Jenna onto one hip.
“You’re not holding her right,” Lexi complains and takes Jenna from him.
I turn away, content to let them figure out what to do while I find some dry socks. Rory is spreading out my sleeping bag on his cot.
“Ms. Khav, I need someplace to put them.” Jacob appears before me, holding out a huge spider.
“You scared that hell out of me, Jacob! Don’t dangle that thing in front of my face,” I shriek and push his hand aside gently. “Why don’t you let it go? Be free?”
His face falls. “He’s a friend.” He sets the arachnid in his palm and gazes at it.
“I’ll go find you a … box. Or something,” I say. “Hang onto him until I get back. Is that cool?”
Jacob smiles and nods.
Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not sleeping in here tonight after all. I’m not sure how many little friends he has hanging around.
With an involuntary shudder, I step out of the tent into the cold, rainy night, intent on locating a container for a damn spider. Assuming the kitchen staff will likely be the only people to have one in the middle of the forest, I head there first.
“Hey, Katya.”
I’m not in the mood for Harris. I face him, hoping the rain keeps this quick.
“Hi, Harris. What’s up?”
He draws near, and I’m irked to see he, too, has a raincoat. I hug myself, shivering.
“Thought you might be up for a chat,” he replies.
“Um, not in the rain. Maybe tomorrow when we get back,” I say and start away.
He snags my arm. “You always do this, Katya.” He sighs.
I tug loose from him and look up at him again.
“You always say later. I thought we were friends.”
“We are, Harris,” I say with some impatience. “The past few months have been really rough.”
“You couldn’t make the time for one phone call?”
I groan. “Is now the best time to do this?”
“I can’t get your attention any other time.”
There are days when I adore Harris and days when he’s so damn moody, I can’t stand him. He’s in a mood now, one I don’t want to deal with. It’s times like these when he makes me uneasy, and I start to humor Petr’s insistence that there’s something off about Harris.
“Look, Harris, let’s just talk tomorrow. We’ll both be at camp. Okay?” I say.
“We’ve got time now.”
“Fine. What do you want to say?” I ask through clenched teeth. “Make it quick, because I’m soaked.”
“It’s always about you, isn’t it?”
Oh, god, not one of these kinds of conversations … I’d rather be arguing with Captain Mathis than dealing with Harris.