by Tijan
It was like the camp gods had decided to answer me, because as I was about to call out again, the front doors opened behind me.
I turned, almost expecting to hear church choirs singing.
A lone guy wearing a business suit was there.
That was it.
He moved forward, a tired look on his face, a bag thrown over his shoulder, and two more guys in business suits came behind him.
I was used to having wealthy campers. Echo catered to them, and the random celebrity had been known to rent out the whole place before, so I was used to seeing nice things. Nice clothes. Nice shoes. Nice bags.
These three guys? They were the definition of nice.
Their faces were manscaped. Clean. Their teeth were white. They had an air of authority and confidence—not arrogant, but strong. They were sure of themselves, so sure that I moved back a step.
These guys were known, whoever they were.
Custom-tailored suits. Italian shoes. Their bags, I didn’t recognize the brand, but wealthy people used them. There was a look to them. The first guy was normal height, but trim. The two behind him were giants.
And then all the air was sucked out of the room. It started spinning.
The first guy looked at the office door and at me. He pointed. “That’s where I go?”
“Argucham,” came out of my mouth.
I didn’t recognize the language myself. Maybe it was something foreign, or maybe it was a future alien language, because that’s how I played it off. I smiled, blinked, and nodded as I felt like I was about make a crash landing on the floor.
He frowned briefly, but went to the office. A soft tap and he opened it, stepping inside.
The two other giants went with him. Neither spared me another look.
Why would they? Because the reason I started speaking Alien was because I’d recognized one of those giants. He was a former NBA All-star, had been on the All-NBA team, on the All-Defensive Team, and had won six NBA championships.
He. Was. A. Legend.
And I couldn’t breathe.
Do platypuses walk backward?
I was hyperventilating.
When you’re eighty, will you look back and wish you’d been a psychic?
Winston Duty retired six years ago, but he was now the head coach for the Seattle Thunder.
Oh.
My.
God.
The Seattle Thunder.
I was wheezing.
How many records is too many to break for the Guinness Book of World Records?
I bent over, my hands on my knees, but I couldn’t get any air out. I was panicking and pissing myself from excitement all at the same time. And I was about to pass out.
“Charlie!” Hadley hissed my name from behind, and I tried to turn around. I really did.
She was probably motioning for me to get to safety. Hide and die. But I couldn’t. My knees were melting. My feet were already in a puddle. I was sure that really was pee dripping down my legs.
This was my dream come true, if I lived to relish it.
A hand wrapped around my arm and jerked me backward. I clutched it and raised my head. I was pretty sure that was Owen’s hair just in front of me. He pulled me into the kitchen’s office and shoved me in the chair. They pushed my head between my knees, and Hadley kneeled in front of me.
“Breathe, Charlie. Breathe.” She patted me on the back.
I couldn’t. I kept shaking my head, pointing past them and out the door. Did they not know who was out there? No. The joke was on me. They did.
The Seattle Thunder. Reese Forster. My favorite all-time team and player.
Those were his coaches. If they were here, it meant one thing.
I was so unbelievably stupid.
The Seattle Thunder was having their training program here. HERE! AND I WAS HERE TOO!
All the fangirling, fanatical fan/obsessive stalker inside of me was freaking the fuck out.
Aliens. I’d talked like an alien, and it seemed I wasn’t done.
“Whobegodan ham—”
They were snickering at me. They were laughing.
I darted forward, knocking my hand against the back of Owen’s knee as he turned for a moment. He went down, but caught himself, shaking his head.
That was the old Charlie. I did annoying stuff like that, but it was payback this time.
I glared as I tried to keep breathing. Nostrils, open on my command.
“You fuckers,” I finally managed.
They bent over in laughter. Hadley was leaning on Owen’s arm.
“The look on your face.” She pointed at me.
I whipped out a hand, knocking it aside. “What’s your favorite sexual position—” I caught myself. “Please don’t answer that.”
She just pointed again and smiled. “We never do. We ignore your questions.”
Years of friendship here. We were past what was polite. It was like the eight-year absence never existed, and then I was laughing too. I mean, I was trying not to think about who was out there—and maybe now standing in the front office’s hallway—because if I did, it’s straight to the language of the Arguchamites.
“What’s going on?” came another voice from the kitchen. There was an attached doorway between the two.
I didn’t even look at Trent. He’d been in on it too.
“She found out who the campers are,” Owen reported.
“Oh.” Trent laughed. “That’s fucking awesome.” He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees and raised his voice. “Can you hear me, Charlie?”
I glared at him. “If everyone was deaf, would anyone speak?”
“She started hyperventilating.”
I shot Hadley a dark look. I was still hyperventilating. There were birds in the room. Goddamn birds.
One of them flew through Trent’s head. He didn’t notice. It came out the other side.
A cocky smirk tugged at his mouth. “Live, Charlie. Live. Are you going to live? Do I need to give you a motivational talk on how to soothe your inner fan?”
I punched him in the stomach.
He dropped. “Oomph.”
Owen and Hadley started laughing all over again.
“Can animals besides parrots and elephants dance?” spilled out of me.
I couldn’t think about who was in the hallway. If I did, the walls in my brain started bending and everything flipped upside down. So therefore, we had normal, wealthy-prick campers out there. I was just here to waste some time, write a little for a novel I’d probably never finish, and deal. I was here to deal. That was it.
As I repeated that, I felt myself calm down.
I could breathe normally. My chest wasn’t threatening to cave in.
I started feeling my feet and legs again, enough where I could stand up.
My three A-hole friends all stopped laughing and moved forward, their hands out to catch me. I was tempted to flip them off. That’s the least they deserved for laughing at me in my moment of stupidity.
“You better now?”
Aw, Hadley. She was nice, and tenderhearted.
Trent snorted. “You mean is she more sane now?” He gently rapped his knuckles against my head. “Did you scramble these tonight?”
Hadley started laughing.
I take back the tenderhearted part.
Owen lifted his shoulder, knocking it back in place. I swear, that wasn’t even about his injury anymore. It was his “we need to get going” signal. That or his “I’m uncomfortable; let’s change the subject” signal.
I waited.
We all did—the two other A-holes quieted too.
“If they’re all here, we should start checking that the food’s still heated.”
On cue, we all moved.
Hadley and Owen went to the kitchen to do their thing.
Trent went out the regular office door. I didn’t know what he was doing, but I figured it had to do with the job he’d been hired to do here. And me? My job didn’t start
—well, shit. I didn’t know. Tonight? Tomorrow morning?
I went to the kitchen.
Owen was checking the thermometers.
“Do I open the courts tonight?”
“Yeah. I think so.” He was distracted, going through all of the steam drawers. “Keith didn’t say?”
Hadley came from the dishwashing area carrying two serving spoons that were still wet from being cleaned. She waved them in the air, helping them air dry. “He mentioned that after dinner they’d do the opening reception with Trent,” she said. “Then maybe they’d all want to congregate on the courts after.”
No way I was going to ask Keith about this directly. “You’re thinking I should open it after the welcome ceremony and close it at midnight?”
Owen pop-locked his shoulder back. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea. You can close them if no one shows up.”
I clipped my head in a nod. I almost saluted him—I was that grateful he hadn’t told me to go to Keith.
I glanced around.
I was still pretending I didn’t know who was filling up the cafeteria, but we were all hearing their voices.
“What can I do to help?” I asked.
Owen was already moving around me toward the door.
Hadley eyed me. “Are you going to be okay? Got your question habit in check?”
I nodded. “I’m working on it. I used to have it in check.”
She nodded. “You always did like the dishes?”
It was said as a question, but also a suggestion. And she was right.
There was a whole mess of dishes already there, asking me to clean them. I could hear their voices. “Charlie. Wash us. Make us shine again. Pleeease.”
Okay, that was creepy, but there’s something about holding a power washer in your hand and aiming at any surface you want to punish.
The window to the cafeteria was open, where the dishes would be stacked, but I wasn’t paying attention. I wouldn’t pay attention. Walls. I needed them up and erect in my brain. I reached for that powerful nozzle.
The handle felt like it’d been waiting for me all these years. I almost heard it saying, “Welcome back, my little Charlie.”
And I smiled.
There was Garth Carzoni.
I almost fell into the dishwasher.
I should’ve stopped gawking, but I couldn’t.
The randoms were bouncing in my head, though I’d put a block on them. Every time I felt one coming, I bit down on my lip. I’m pretty sure I was bleeding, but what else could a slightly stalkerish-girl do to keep sane?
Apparently, bleed.
And ignore the one player I’d probably pee myself if I saw. I couldn’t handle knowing whether he was here, so he was locked in that special place in my mind.
They had all eaten, and Keith and Trent were at the front giving everyone the run-down on the campgrounds and rules. I knew this routine. When they stepped away, the coaches would step up and continue with whatever needed to be said.
After that, I didn’t know.
But until they took off, my inner basketball fan was melting down inside.
Terry Bartlonguesen.
I made a weird-sounding gurgle. It started as a sigh, but I caught myself and barked out an alien something again. I wasn’t sure what it was.
I couldn’t breathe. My heart nearly stopped working as he leaned over and whispered something to Matthew Crusky.
Matthew Crusky, everyone! The Cruskinator. The Cruskimachine.
Double-down on the weird alien sigh.
I sagged again, but grabbed for the sink and caught myself.
Right.
Look away. Brain walls. Brain walls. They needed to be erect.
Firm.
Standing upright and ready.
I felt my knees going.
I couldn’t stop myself.
I went back to my stalker/gawking mode.
Beau Michems.
The crowd surges to their feet and gives a standing ovation. Ahhhh. Ahhhhh.
And he was sitting next to Juan Cartion.
Juan Cartion. Juan the Speedster Cartion! His other nickname was the Chia Pet because his hair would frizz up during every game. The announcers loved teasing him about it. He wasn’t the Chia Pet here, though. His hair had been slicked down and combed to the side. He was the shooting guard, and—I was about to embark into Pure Insanity Mode, so I had to guard myself, ram up the shields—he was Reese Forster’s best friend.
My mouth dried up, just thinking of him, thinking his best friend was in the room. His best friend was twenty feet from me.
Me. From me!
“Settle down, Cherry Popper.”
“Cherry Popper?” I turned around and raised an eyebrow. “Are you using reverse psychology on me? Hoping I’ll want to pop your cherry.”
Trent laughed. “I was hoping for projection. I’m projecting my fantasies onto you.”
I snorted. “Hate to break it to you, but my cherry was popped long agooo…oo…oh shit.”
Keith stood on the other side of the dish window, a scowl on his face.
The dirty bastard was going to take it and run. I knew how he worked.
But he just grunted, waving that B-oss mug in the air. “Trent, we’re going to start.”
Damn. He was all business. I was slightly disappointed… Slightly. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.
But I couldn’t help it. “Hey, Keith?”
He paused and looked back.
“If you needed to confess one sin to save your life, what would it be?”
“Keep it up, Charlie. We have other alumni staff we can call.” He turned away.
“Oh yeah? How many of them can ask you—” A hand clapped over my mouth.
“Keep walking, Boss,” Trent called. “I got her handled.”
No one handled me.
Well, except Trent just now, and I needed it.
I gulped down some oxygen once he lifted his hand. “Thank you. I almost lost a second job there.”
He moved back, but his chuckle was strained. “I gotta go, but you need to get yourself in check. I mean it. I have to leave tomorrow for another speaking event, and I won’t be back till the end of their stay. You going to be okay till then?”
I nodded.
Once the camp weeks started, it wouldn’t be hard to avoid Keith. He tended to only show up for meals. He’d stay in the office other than that, so as long as he wasn’t poking his nose in at the gym courts, I would be fine. I could do the dishes and squirrel away a plate of food.
“You’ll help rein her in if she needs it?” Trent called to Hadley, walking by.
She threw him a smile over her shoulder, not stopping. She went out, picked up a steamer, and brought it back. “No problem,” she said as she passed us again. “Though I’ve always enjoyed Charlie’s feisty side.”
“For some reason, I’m not reassured.”
I slapped Trent on the arm. “Get on. I’ll be fine. And if nothing else, I’ll whisper my random questions.”
He gave me a dry look. “Right. Because that’s not creepy.”
I shrugged, going back to the dishes.
The players had started to migrate out the doors, leaving all their dishes on the table.
Normal camps had a process where campers were told how to collect plates on one tray, silverware on another, throw away their trash, etc. Adult camps were just told to take their dishes to the dish window, but these guys were none of those. I wasn’t surprised to see that not one of them brought their stuff to the window. That would add thirty minutes to the cleanup.
But just then Owen whipped through with a cart.
Owen was bringing the window to their dishes. It was decked out, even with a soaker tub for the silverware.
“Okay. I’m going to go.” Trent still lingered. “You haven’t asked about your baller crush.”
Hyperventilating.
Do you regret anything you did five days ago? Five weeks? Five months? Five years?
I was biting down hard on my lip. None of those questions spilled out, and I was damn proud of myself.
Then I heard Trent say, “He’s not here. He’s coming tomorrow.”
Oh good God.
If you can see a fart on a thermal camera, could you see a climax too?
It didn’t take as long to clean as I thought.
I was walking out of there thirty minutes later. Hadley had set a plate of food aside for me before they put everything away. I could’ve kissed her when she gave it to me because my stomach was doing some serious growling and rolling. I could’ve intimidated bears if I needed to, but because I was scarfing down my food, I was also cutting through the back of the lodge, heading for the gyms.
I wasn’t sure how long they’d keep everyone at the opening/welcome ceremony, but I hadn’t checked out the gyms yet.
Big mistake.
That was always one of the number one rules. Actually, we didn’t really have a list of rules. They were all considered the most important, and we had to figure it out from there. My personal number one rule had always been eating, so there you go. Smart girl priorities.
Anyway, I was in a bit more of a rush than I normally would’ve been, and I slammed through the screen door leading into the inside gyms, only seeing the silhouette at the last second.
“Oh shit!” I tried swerving around him, but I failed.
I hit the guy smack in the center of the chest, and down we went. My food rained on top of us.
Fuuuuck.
Is rain only called rain if it’s the liquid form of water? Could my food have snowed down on top of us too?
I bit my lip so hard as I rolled to my feet. “Sorry.”
I wasn’t sure if I should look, but I did. I sighed in relief. “Oh, Grant. It’s only you.” And then I immediately seized up in a mouth-twisting-biting-hands-wringing moment because I hadn’t meant to imply he didn’t matter—like I hadn’t purposely not asked about him, because I knew he was here or he would be here, and yeah. I was sucking at this whole thing.
I still couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye, but I was very aware of our surroundings. Even in the dark, I was already taking inventory. There were two indoor gyms and in the corner was the cage where I’d be sitting and trying to write out a lame and overly committed-to therapeutic exercise. I’d come in through one screen door, but straight across from us, another screen door led to three brand-new outdoor gyms. Leaning to the side, I could see that the last court had a volleyball net up and shit. That’s probably why Grant was here.