by Marta Brown
Emily, who’s been holding the girls hair back for the last twenty minutes, helps her to my couch as I grab a bottle of water from my mini fridge, a small flashlight and the empty trash can from next to my bed.
I help the girl take a few small sips of water, and then lay her on her side with the trash can near her face. Just in case.
“Would you mind grabbing that for her?” I nod to the navy fleece blanket at the end of my bed as I rest my fingers against the girl’s radial pulse point to check her heart rate.
“What are you doing that for?” Emily asks, pulling the blanket off my bed and draping it over the girl, who’s already passed out.
“Just checking her vitals to make sure she doesn’t have alcohol poisoning or anything.”
Emily looks around my room, taking in the mix of baseball memorabilia scattered amongst posters of skeletal, circulatory, and muscular systems of the body. “What, are you a doctor, or something?”
“Or something,” I offer. Not sure what direction I’m going to go now. “But uh, maybe, someday. I’m actually pre-med.”
I quickly check the girl’s pupils with my flashlight and determine she’s going to be okay. Just majorly hungover tomorrow.
“Yo, party people. What’cha doing up here?” Nate, the team’s first baseman, says from the hallway just outside my door. “Whoa, is that Jessica?”
I nod to the sleeping girl on my couch. “You know her?”
“Yeah, she’s one of Trish’s pledges. She’s downstairs, want me to grab her?”
“That’d be great. Thanks, Nate.” I pick up my shirt from the floor and slip it back on when he leaves. And then, against my better judgment, since she looks so ridiculously hot in that dress without it, I grab Emily’s jacket and hand it back to her, as well. “Sorry about all this. As soon as Trish gets here, we can go back down to the party if you want.”
Emily twists a lock of hair around her finger as she looks up at me, her light eyes framed by her dark lashes, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“I’m not really interested in going back down to the party.”
Good. Me either.
…
Leaving Trish to tend to her pledge, I throw on my favorite red sweatshirt, grab Emily’s hand and lead her to the large pane glass window at the far end of the hall. “What are we doing?”
I smile, despite having to let go of Emily’s hand, and shove open the window. “You’ll see.”
Emily stares, wide-eyed, as I climb out and then offer her my hand to help her do the same. She glances over her shoulder and then back at me. “You want me to climb out the window? Are you crazy?”
“Hardly.” I chuckle. “I’m probably the least wild and crazy person you’ll ever meet.”
Emily arches a brow, looking completely unconvinced, and I can’t blame her, considering she’s met me on the one night this entire semester I’ve really let loose. I hold up my hand like I’m swearing an oath. “No, it’s true. I’m like boy scout-follow the rules-boring. Ask anyone.”
Emily blushes. “I’m not sure your diversionary tactics downstairs at the pool table could be considered ‘boy scout-following the rules-boring’—but if you say so.”
“Trust me, you’ll see.” I smile, taking her hand and helping her out the window and onto the hidden flattop deck tucked in-between the peaks of our house’s old slanted roof.
“Wow, this is amazing,” Emily says, walking to the edge of the deck and peering out over the small college town, the lights reflecting in her eyes as she looks back at me. “I think you can see my house from here.”
“I knew you looked familiar. What sorority are you in?”
Emily’s mouth forms an ‘O’ before she turns away and looks back out at the view. “Uh no…I meant you can see my, uh…dorm from here. Batterson Hall.” She points to the tall dormitory in the distance.
Ah. A freshman. Or, well, technically a sophomore now. “That explains it. Batterson Hall is near my pre-med labs. I’ve probably walked past you a million times in a rush to class.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Emily says, looking slightly nervous. Or maybe she’s just cold.
I lean back against the railing across from her, and gesture with my index finger for her to come closer, happy to warm her up. “Come here,” I whisper.
Emily’s walk is seductive, but somehow tentative too, like she’s trying it out for the first time. And if she is, it works.
I reach out and wrap my arms around her waist, until our bodies are flush with one another, the barely-there feel of her dress driving me crazy. “You’re making it almost impossible to behave myself. You know that, right?”
Biting her lip, she drapes her arms around my neck. “You didn’t bring us up here to behave ourselves, did you?”
With our lips only inches apart, I tighten my grip on her waist with one hand, and brush my thumb across the tiny silver star by her eye with my other.
“While you have a point, I actually brought you out here to see this.” I lift my eyes and then my head.
Emily’s breath hitches. “It’s…so beautiful,” she says, staring up into the night sky, the Milky Way laid out above us.
“Should we?” I gesture to the wood planked deck. Since the fleece blanket from my bed is currently in use, I zip off my hoodie and lay it down. It’ll have to do.
She nods with a smile, hardly able to take her eyes off the stars as we sit down.
I lie back, propping my arms behind my head, and admire the view. “I come up here to think sometimes, or, you know, get away from the masses.” I motion with my eyes to the sound of the party below us.
“I can see why, it’s so peaceful,” she says, lying down next to me and resting her head in the crook of my shoulder. “Oh! Look, a shooting star.” Emily points up, to where the faint traces of the star’s tail can still be seen. “Did you see it?” she asks with the enthusiasm of a little kid as she turns to face me; her lips just inches from mine.
Somehow her reaction to the shooting star is in complete opposition with the edgy girl from downstairs and it intrigues me.
Who is this girl?
“Emily?” Kaitlin shouts from down the hallway, sounding panicked.
We scramble to our feet as Kaitlin tosses open my bedroom door. “Where in the hell are you?”
“I’m right here,” Emily says, climbing back in through the window. “What’s wrong?”
“Cops are here, we have to go.”
I climb in behind her and shut the window.
Emily whips around, looking as panicked as Kaitlin sounds. “I’m so sorry, but we have to go.”
“Why don’t you hang out in my room until they’re gone?” I offer, not wanting our night to be over just yet. Who knows when I’ll get to see her again.
“Sorry, Romeo, we gotta bail.” Kaitlin grabs Emily’s hand and starts to drag her towards the stairs.
“Wait. How can I contact you?” I ask, the sounds of the party quieted, except for some guy, probably Pete, yelling at everyone to chill out and be cool.
Emily breaks out of Kaitlin’s grip and rushes back down the hallway. “Emily—” Kaitlin snaps, looking over her shoulder nervously.
Emily lifts up on her toes and gives me a quick kiss goodbye. “I’ll contact you, okay?”
“Seriously, Evers. We have to go. Now.”
Emily rushes back to her friend and together they disappear down the stairs, leaving me standing slack jawed in the empty hallway.
Did she just say Evers?
And like a lightning bolt, I know exactly where I’ve seen her before.
She’s the coach’s kid.
Chapter 7
Emily
The sun is too bright and my feet hurt. But the hangover and the heels were totally worth it as my stomach flip-flops thinking about the way Tyler’s lips felt against my skin. And if I have anything to do with it—I’ll feel them again—sooner rather than later.
“I thought we made headway last night, but apparently I
was wrong,” Mom says so loudly she’s on the verge of yelling. “But once again, the team comes first, even before your own daughter.”
Grabbing my duffle bag, I slide my sunglasses onto the top of my head, and brace myself, and my pounding headache, for a front row seat to the millionth fight over Dad’s job and his commitment to his team.
“I’m sorry, but I had no choice. Hank called as a courtesy, and I wasn’t going to let one of my star players risk his entire future over an arrest for public intoxication.”
Star players? I shake my head. Tyler wasn’t that drunk. Was he?
“Someone got arrested?” I ask, dropping my bag by the front door, and hoping it wasn’t Tyler. Then again. When I figure a way out of camp, hooking up with a bad boy might just drive my parents crazy mad. At me. “What happened?”
Dad runs a hand down his face before answering. “One of my players was running around, half naked last night at a party on campus, yelling something or other about his cat running away.” Dad blows out a long breath. “I swear the boy’s not all there, but what can I say? He’s one hell of a pitcher.”
I try not to laugh, but I can’t stop myself since he’s talking about Pete. And I’m pretty sure that cat he was talking about starts with a K.
“It wasn’t very funny when I had to go and pick him up from the drunk tank at two in the morning.” Dad frowns, looking exhausted.
“You didn’t have too.” Mom narrows her eyes, her nostrils flaring. “You never have too, but you always do. That team comes first, day or night.”
“Pam, will you just let up. I’m too tired for this right now.”
Mom jabs her index finger at Dad. “You knew we were taking Emily to camp this morning and now, not only are you too tired to take her with me, you’re too tired to even talk about it. You know what, Bob, you’re not the only one tired around here. I’m getting pretty sick and tired—”
“Mom,” I interrupt, trying to stop her from saying something she might regret. “I actually asked Kat to take me, you know, since I won’t get to see her for so long. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.”
“But—”
Kaitlin’s car horn honks outside, cutting Mom off, and I’m not sure she could have timed it any better.
In an instant, Mom’s anger at Dad is replaced by sadness over me leaving, and I have to stop myself from scoffing since she’s the one making me go to camp in the first place.
“Don’t forget to wear your sunscreen and write every day,” Mom says, pulling me into a hug, reminding me that for the next eight weeks, I’m resigned to writing letters in order to correspond with family and friends. No emails. No phones. No joke.
“All right, kiddo,” Dad says, leaning down to kiss my forehead as he tries to stifle a yawn, causing Mom to huff, irritation written all over her face. “Don’t get in any trouble, and try to have fun. Okay?”
I grab my duffle bag and pull my sunglasses over my eyes to hide the pooling tears when Kat honks again. The weight of leaving them alone for the next eight weeks scares me worse than losing all modern day means of communication. I’m afraid I’m going to lose something so much worse. My family.
“I better go, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” I say, giving them each one more hug, dead set. I have to get out of camp. One way, or the other.
“Love you.”
…
“Hung over, much?” Kat asks cheerily, handing me an iced coffee when I get into her car, the stereo turned up and the convertible top down.
Ugh. Morning people.
“Please tell me this is a double shot?”
“Of course.” She smiles. “Now, enough small talk, I want the deets,” she says, pulling out of my driveway and starting down the street towards the highway. “I was so freaked out last night that we were gonna get busted by my dad that if you told me anything, it didn’t register. Like. At all.”
I laugh. “Speaking of your dad busting someone, my dad just told me he had to bail Pete out of the drunk tank last night.”
“Omg! I know! Isn’t Pete amazing?”
“Huh?”
Kaitlin smiles like a cartoon character with heart shaped bubbles floating around her head. “He totally did that on purpose, so you and I could bail before my dad, or one of the other officers caught us.”
“Wow, that is amazing.” I take a sip of my coffee. “So, when are you going to see him again?”
She frowns. “Tonight.”
“Um, you know you’re not smiling, right?” I furrow my brows at my best friend.
“I know.” She throws me a look. “I’m just bummed. He takes off tomorrow for Martha’s Vineyard, for the entire summer. I guess he goes every year and works at some fancy country club parking cars. It just sucks, ya know? I mean, we just met, and now he’s leaving.”
“Trust me, I know the feeling,” I say, thinking about not getting to see Tyler again. That is—unless I can pull off some Houdini-like disappearing act from camp. Which I totally intend to do. Somehow.
Kaitlin gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m such a bad friend complaining about not getting to see Pete, when you and Tyler are pretty much in the same boat.”
“Except you’re able to talk to Pete while he’s gone. If I want to talk to Tyler again, I’d have to send him a letter. From camp.” I chuckle at the sheer humiliation of sending some super hot guy I almost hooked up with a letter from summer camp. “Um, no. Not happening. I’d totally die if he knew I was spending my summer away at camp. So no telling Pete, okay?”
“Okay, promise. Now spill.”
…
Two and a half hours later, with every single detail about last night with Tyler spilled, Kaitlin pulls down the long dirt road leading to Camp Champ.
The air is cooler under the canopy of trees, but the bright rays of sunshine still manage to cut through the branches and warm my skin. I take a deep breath, letting the smell of pine trees and the sugary scent of bug juice, Champ’s version of Gatorade, wash over me.
Summer camp.
The parking lot is swarming with campers of all ages, and I can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. I’ve missed this place.
“Okay.” Kaitlin turns in her seat after parking, a serious look on her face. “I know you’d rather be home trying to salvage your parents’ marriage—in your own special way—but it’s only eight weeks. They’re going to be fine.” Kaitlin gives me a reassuring smile, and I wish I could believe her. “Try to have fun, and stay out of trouble, unless, of course, you’re getting in trouble with Todd-the-bod’s abs, then by all means.” Kat wags her eyebrows, laughing.
I reach over the center console and give her a huge hug. “You’re the best.”
“No, you are,” Kat says, hugging me tighter. “Write me every day, deal?”
“Deal,” I say, despite having no intention of staying at camp long enough to have anything to write home about.
I sling my duffle bag over my shoulder and wave as Kaitlin whips out of the parking lot and back down the old logging road, kicking up dirt in her wake.
“Omg! You’re here,” a girl squeals, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and hugging me with the strength it takes to lead a horse. But what else would I expect from a blue ribbon Equestrian?
I toss my arms around her and hug her back. “I’m excited to see you, too,” I say, laughing at my junior counselor from last year, and my closest friend at camp, Lucy Emmerson.
“I heard you had some kind of family emergency and you almost couldn’t come this year. Is everything okay?” She pulls away, concern written all over her face.
Taking me in, her concern disappears as quickly as it came. “Let me guess,” she laughs, tugging on the ends of my bright red hair, “the family emergency was your parents nearly killing you over your hair?”
“Something like that.” I smile, looping my arm through hers and walking towards the welcome tables, set up at the edge of the wide grass field next to the central office and dining hall,
to check in. “So? What’s new with you? Tell me everything.”
“Okay, don’t freak,” she says quickly, like she’s yanking off a band-aid.
I pull up short so I can turn and face her. “Not the best way to start a sentence if you don’t want someone to freak.”
She presses her lips together before blurting out, “I’m not your counselor this year.”
“What do you mean?” I ask in disbelief. “We’ve been in the same cabin since we were eleven, well, since I was eleven and you were twelve, but same diff.” I drop my duffle to the ground. “That was our plan. You were going to be head counselor and I was going to be your junior counselor. What happened?”
“Don’t be mad.”
I want to tell her I’m not mad. I’m sad. She’s one of the reasons I love camp so much, and the only reason I signed up to be a junior counselor for the entire summer. Mom’s speech about ‘honoring my commitments’ twists my stomach.
“I’m not mad, I just don’t get it. Why didn’t they put us together? I mean, we’re ‘Em & Ems.’ Everyone knows that.”
Lucy laughs at our camp nickname—the first two letters of my name combined with the first two letters of her last name—which is usually reserved for couples, a la ‘Brangelina,’ but since we’re practically inseparable every summer, the couple-name-mash up ‘Em & Ems’ stuck.
“Are you crazy? We’ll always be Em & Ems!” Lucy says, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me another hug. “But the truth is…I requested to be moved to the elementary aged kids since I decided to major in early education.”
She declared a major? But she just finished freshman year. I bite my nail, thankful I have at least a year to decide, since I’m not even sure what I want to do for the rest of today, let alone what I want to do with the rest of my life.
“Are you sure you’re not mad?” Lucy asks as the excitement about her future is replaced with worry again.
I pull my fingers away from my mouth and offer her a reassuring grin. “I’m not mad, I swear. I’m really happy for you.”