by Kasie West
“I got this,” I said, shooing them aside. I wedged the sharp edge of the rock beneath the ribbon and tugged, breaking it with a snap.
“Nice.” Clay grabbed the balloons and tugged them the rest of the way free. “Now you can add forest ranger to your resume.”
We all turned back toward the lake and canoe. “Better yet, I’ll use this as an answer to a college essay question,” I said. “Describe a time where you saved a tree from the perils of humankind.”
Clay shook the three balloons in his hand at me. “You would be so prepared for that question.”
“I know!”
“Hold up a minute, you two, I want to see something,” Maricela said, and she split off to the left, toward a big boulder fifty feet away.
“You think?” Clay asked.
I was obviously not privileged to whatever information came from their shared history. So when we came upon a group of rocks forming a messy circle, I had no idea why they both laughed.
“What is it?”
“I don’t believe this is still here,” Maricela said. She toed a rock back into place. “Last summer, a bunch of us did a moon circle.”
“What’s a moon circle?”
“I’m not sure what it is officially, but for us, we came out on a new moon, sat in this circle, and made promises. The new moon is supposed to represent a do-over. A chance to set new goals or whatever.”
“You believe in moon powers?” I asked.
“I believe in putting positive thoughts into the universe, and whether it’s the moon that helps me achieve those goals or the energy of the thought itself circling my brain, it makes no difference.”
“It worked, then? The goals you made last year were achieved?”
“You know what? They were. I’m coming back here on the new moon because I have a few wishes that need granting.”
I wondered what she was referring to. Cosmetology? Her mystery boy?
“What promises did you make last year?” I asked.
“That’s between me and the moon, girl,” Maricela said with a smirk.
“Everyone’s was different,” Clay said, catching Maricela’s eye. And for a second I wondered if Clay was Mari’s mystery guy. But that was the first real shared look I’d seen this whole time, so I doubted my own suspicions.
She squatted down and moved a few more rocks back into the circle. “When’s the next new moon?”
“I don’t know,” Clay said. “We’ll have to look it up.”
“Look it up?” I asked. “How? Google does not exist here.”
She smiled. “We actually go into town on our day off.”
“Lucky!” I said.
“Your parents won’t let you leave camp?” Clay asked as we headed back toward the canoe.
“You know, I’m not sure. I haven’t asked them. My guess is no. I think they picked this camp on purpose. To get us away from social media for a summer.” I was almost positive it was because of Lauren. They may have been proud of her creativity, but I was sure my parents wished she was on her phone less.
“So that’s what you miss most about life outside of camp?” Maricela asked. “Wi-Fi?”
“Considering this camp is pretty posh, what else could I miss?”
“In-N-Out,” Clay said.
“Dairy Queen,” Maricela said.
“Chipotle.”
“Five Guys.”
“You both sound hungry,” I said.
Clay pushed the canoe into the water and held the handle as Maricela and I climbed in. “That’s because it’s almost dinnertime,” Clay said.
He was right. The sky was turning gray and I had a small moment of panic as I wondered if we’d actually missed dinner altogether. And because I wasn’t hungry, I knew it had nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the dinner entertainment.
That suspicion was solidified when we reached the docks on the opposite shore and Brooks was standing there watching us. My heart doubled its speed.
Brooks held up a walkie-talkie. “I got a report about life jackets left out.”
Clay hopped out of the canoe. “Really? Someone tattled on me? I’m here. We had a civic duty to perform.”
Maricela reached up for Brooks, who offered her a hand out. “Aren’t you supposed to be playing right now, rock star?” she asked.
He held his hand out for me now. I took it and stepped first onto the seat and then onto the dock, the canoe shifting a bit with my movement, causing me to pitch forward. Brooks caught me by the elbow as I stumbled to standing. “You okay?” His breath tickled the hair by my ear.
“Yes, thank you.”
To Mari, Brooks said, “Yes, I’m heading to play right now. Just had to check this out first.”
“I’m going to be able to answer the tree saver question on the college essay now,” I blurted out, still flustered from the tingling by my ear.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Maricela said, hooking her arm in mine. “I’m going to walk this girl to dinner.” She patted my hand as though she understood the effect Brooks could have on people. I needed to get myself in check.
“Hey, Avery!” Clay called before we got too far.
I turned.
“Happy birthday.” He handed me the half-deflated balloons.
I laughed. “You’re so thoughtful.”
My eyes flitted to Brooks and he mouthed, “Tomorrow? Six a.m.?”
I gave a quick nod and as my chest expanded with happiness, I decided that getting myself in check was overrated.
“Where are you going?”
My hand was on the knob of the front door and I whirled around with the question. Dad sat at the table in the breakfast nook. I hadn’t seen him. It was early—six in the morning. I’d assumed nobody would be awake.
“You scared me,” I said as my nonanswer. I was not good at lying and I’d been having to do it more often than not lately when every night at dinner my parents would ask for a summary of our day. But just leaving out a few events was a lot easier than having to think of a fully formed lie. I tried to stick as close to the truth as possible and said, “I wanted to go look at the ropes course. I guess it’s less crowded in the morning.”
“I don’t think it’s open this early,” Dad said. “I don’t think anything is.”
“I’m sure you’re right. When someone told me to go early, they probably didn’t mean this early.” Except that’s exactly what Brooks meant when, after telling me the time the day before, he’d told me the place. That was the whole reason we were going this early, because it wouldn’t open for two hours and we’d have it to ourselves. “Maybe I’ll just check it out and see if it’s something I even want to do.”
“Do you want some company?”
“No,” I said too fast, then added, “I’m okay.”
The flash of hurt that crossed my dad’s face made me feel guilty, so I added, “Maybe later we can reserve a kayak.”
“Sounds good,” he said.
I left, pulling the door closed behind me. Why should I feel guilty? I thought. You don’t care when you hurt my feelings. I sighed. He doesn’t care because he doesn’t know.
I was so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn’t felt the electricity in the warm air as I set off down the path. But I felt it now. A band of gray, early morning sky shone in the distance, but overhead, piles of dark clouds hung in still silence. I ignored them and trudged ahead. The wind started slowly at first and then kicked up dry leaves and pine needles as I walked.
I looked up at the sky and a drop of rain landed on my cheek. It was just a small drop. I kept walking, wind whipping through my hair. The longer I walked, the more drops of water fell from the sky. The ropes course was on the far edge of camp, past all the guest cottages and the lodge, past the tennis courts an
d meadow. It was tucked in a section of tightly grouped trees.
Suspended between the trees were wide ropes and hanging tires and wooden slats and rope ladders and cargo nets and my knees felt like they wanted to buckle while staring at it all from solid ground. The obstacles swayed in the wind.
A crack of lightning lit up the sky, followed several seconds later by the rumble of thunder. I ducked, as if the thunder was the part to be worried about. Thirty feet away was a wooden pavilion. I rushed over to it as the rain turned from a sprinkle to a steady drizzle. I stepped under the shelter and shook the water off my hair. That’s when I realized I wasn’t alone.
Brooks was already there, sitting on a backless bench next to a pegboard of harnesses and helmets.
“Hey,” I said, wiping at my shirt and shorts as if that would dry them. “It’s raining.”
He smirked. “I hadn’t noticed.”
I walked between two rows of benches and sat down next to him. “I’m guessing ropes courses and rain don’t mix.”
“Good guess.”
“We could’ve slept in,” I said.
“I know.”
“I don’t wake up this early for anyone.”
“Well, you’re awake, so that must mean you wake up this early for…” He pointed at himself.
I felt my cheeks go warm, but I managed to say, “I mean, technically, it’s for me, right?”
“True. Did you have fun with Clay and Maricela yesterday? Are they helping you discover yourself too?” Was that a hint of jealousy in his voice?
“No. I haven’t told anyone else about this.”
“Was it really your birthday yesterday?”
“What?” I asked, confused for a moment; then I remembered Clay and the balloons. “Oh, no. He was just being funny.”
The rain around us intensified, pounding on the roof and echoing through the pavilion.
I turned toward him. “Sooo, what happens when it rains here? Does everyone have to stay in their cabins?”
“No, they open more activities in the lodge.”
“And you?” I asked, my eyes catching his before looking back at the bench between us. “Does this mean you get the day off?”
He let out a single laugh. “No, this will keep us twice as busy—leaky roofs and falling tree branches and stranded guests.” He pointed at me with his last words.
“Oh, I’m stranded now?”
He looked out at the pounding rain. “It’s a long way back to the guest cabins.”
“And how are you going to help me, brave Bear Meadow employee?”
“Well, considering I’m not on the clock yet, we’re going to hunker down here, hope the rain stops in the next hour or two, and write the rest of a killer song.”
I put the back of my hand to my forehead and in a breathy, dramatic voice said, “Is that what you do for all the stranded guests or just the lucky ones?”
“It’s the least I can do.”
I shoved his arm. “It sounds like I’m the one doing the saving in this scenario.” Of course, I didn’t mind helping him with lyrics, but Lauren had been right—I did write poems and liked words, so this felt familiar to me. Not something new like I was supposed to do today.
Whatever metal parts existed on the course above were clanking together like oversized wind chimes. I stared up at the ropes course. It seemed massive, looming, terrifying. It felt like it was taunting me. Like it was saying, You wish your life could be bigger and more exciting but it can’t be because you’re the one living it. I swallowed hard.
“It will be here all summer,” he said, seeming to read my mind.
“True. So, a killer song.”
He dragged a backpack in front of him that I hadn’t noticed he’d brought. “I have my notebook this time.” He pulled out a tattered hundred-page green notebook.
“Ah, is this where all the soul-sucking lyrics are kept?”
“Yes. You might not want to look too close.” He flipped a few pages.
“Wow, soul-sucking is super-messy.”
He studied a page as if this observation surprised him. “Are you one of those people who writes in perfectly straight lines in your notebook?”
“I don’t have a notebook….I mean, I have a notebook, but it’s only for class notes, so yes, my lines are pretty straight.”
“My class notes look very much like this.” He patted the page filled with different colors of ink and scribbled out words and sideways words.
“Do you ever expect to actually find the things you write down after you write them?”
“It’s organized chaos. Trust me.” He flipped to a page where the lyrics we’d worked on at the beginning of the week were written. “Any inspiration strike since last time?”
I read through the lyrics twice. “Yes, actually. I was thinking about how the lines so far are about history and starting over, and then it says ‘It’s time for change.’ What if we continued with that theme of time?”
“Yeah…”
“I know this song was inspired by your life and your dad, but could we also make it apply to relationships? Then it will become instantly relatable to nearly everyone who hears it.”
“If people can relate to it, they like it more.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay, so whose past relationships are we going to draw inspiration from? Mine or yours?”
I froze with the question, then finally stuttered, “It…it’s your song.”
“A reaction like that has a story. Let’s hear it.”
An image of Trent played in my mind. He was smiling and laughing. And then he was looking past me, his eyes softening. I followed his gaze to Shay. Was this a memory playing in my head or just something I’d conjured up since the betrayal? I didn’t even know anymore. “I trust too easily in relationships,” I said. “I like to think the best of people. And maybe I need to stop that.”
“Why would you need to stop that?” he asked.
“Because it hurts more when they’re not as invested as I am. When I learn things that I was too blind to see.” I shook my head. I did not want to talk about this. I nodded toward his backpack. “Got a pen in there somewhere?”
* * *
“And we have a verse and a chorus,” I said with a big smile. We had moved to the ground and were using the bench like a table.
Brooks looked happy, too, a smile on his face, his eyes lit up. “I haven’t had that productive of a writing session in forever.”
“We make a good team.” I leaned back on my palms, even though the ground was dirty. For the first time since we’d started, I became aware of our surroundings. The rain was mostly gone and water dripped off the edge of the roof. I moved my head one way and then the other, stretching my neck. I opened my mouth to ask how much time we had left when his watch alarm went off.
He pushed a button on the side, silencing it. “I need to go.”
“Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?” I whispered.
“Does that make you the princess?”
“I’m sorry. Did you want to be the princess? You do have great hair.”
He laughed, then stood, brushed off the back of his shorts and his hands, and reached out for my hand. He pulled me to standing, but just as I was about to turn back the way I’d come, he cursed and yanked me against him, whirling us the opposite way. He practically carried me to the other side of the pegboard, where he pressed my back against the large sheet of plywood and his body against mine.
I looked up at him, wide-eyed, but he was staring over my shoulder, listening, I realized. Had he seen someone? Had someone seen us? I concentrated on the sounds around us, but there was just his heart, pounding against me, and his breath, close to my ear. He smelled like coconut shampoo and something sharp, like soap or deodorant.
“My backpack is
out there,” he mouthed. “Stay here.”
I nodded, a little dizzy.
He took a step away from me and I stumbled, not realizing I must’ve been using him for support. I straightened up and listened hard as he rounded the corner.
“Brooks? You scared me. What are you doing?” I didn’t recognize the voice.
“Hi, Desiree.”
Who was Desiree? I hadn’t met a Desiree. A drop of water from the edge of the roof dripped onto my forehead. I didn’t dare move out of the way or wipe at it.
“Just making sure the storm didn’t knock down any branches on the course,” Brooks said. “You brought towels?”
“Yeah, Janelle wants towels at each station to wipe things down.”
“She’s not closing them for the day?”
“The storm passed. It’s supposed to be clear now.”
“Right.”
Another drop of water hit my cheek this time.
There was a scuffing of feet like she was walking away; then she said, “Kai was looking for you earlier. Did he ever find you?”
“Uh, yeah, band stuff.”
“Cool, see you later.”
“Bye.”
A few minutes passed and I stayed in my hiding spot, more water collecting on my hair and face. I could hear someone moving around out there and I was pretty sure it was Brooks, but I didn’t want to risk it.
“That was close,” he finally said as he appeared at my side.
“Is everything okay? Did she see me? Who’s Desiree?” I asked.
He smirked. “Take a breath.” He wiped at some water on my cheek with the back of his hand. My breath caught. “Want a towel?” he asked.
“No.” I used my sleeve to mop up more water. “Who was that?”
“You know D, right?” he asked. “Works at the front desk.”
I took several deep breaths. “That was D? Tell me she didn’t see me.”
“She didn’t see you. It’s fine. But we should go.” He held out his hand and nodded toward the forest. “Time to rescue my stranded guest.”