Girl on the Run

by B. R. Myers

  A light knocking woke me up. I checked my watch, and saw it was almost suppertime. Worried that the boys might have killed each other or set the cabin on fire, I crawled out of bed and opened the door. Scotty stood there, looking at his sneakers.

  “Um…are you coming with us? Like, for supper?”

  “Yeah,” My voice sounded like gravel. “We’ll leave in ten minutes.”

  I combed out my tangled hair and piled it up into a loose bun, then added my headband. My hand went to my bare neck. I zipped up my hoodie to the very top and rubbed my face with my hands, determined not to cry—I couldn’t go to supper with red eyes. Lewis’s sweatpants were folded and lying on top of my still unpacked duffel bag. I grabbed them and left the room.

  Supper was bacon cheeseburgers and macaroni salad. I pushed a noodle around the plate with my fork, trying to be invisible. My little stunt this afternoon was great gossip. Bits of the story would come floating over from conversations close to our table. I snuck a look over at Kirk’s usual spot, but he wasn’t there.

  “Hello, Cabin 4A.” Lacey stood by our table wearing her best debutante smile.

  “Hi, Lacey,” Scotty said. The other three goons didn’t even break a smile.

  “Jazzy,” she said. “Soccer starts in half an hour.” She paused and waited for me to clue in. A short huff was followed by, “Don’t you read your camp schedule?”

  “Yeah,” I lied. I’d been checking it after each activity, not memorizing the whole day. Since Spencer seemed to be hell bent on sabotaging everything, what was the point? “Um, so soccer,” I said. “What about it?”

  “It’s some of the counsellors against their kids.” She paused and flicked her ponytail. “Anyway, if you’re too tired, I’d be happy to take your men with my girls.”

  Lacey was offering to help? That was a surprise. My “men” suddenly looked very interested, and truthfully, I wouldn’t mind the peace.

  I’d be stupid not to take her up on it. “It’s up to them,” I said.

  “Sounds interesting,” Spencer winked.

  “Great!” Lacey spun around. The cupettes followed her out, and soon the rest of my table trailed behind, obediently.

  “I wish I could make them do that,” I mumbled, feeling like I had lost yet another battle. Still, I was grateful to have them out of my hair for a few hours. I grabbed Lewis’s sweatpants and made my way to the swinging door at the front of the room.

  The kitchen was empty, except for a sink full of dishes. The Brasseau sisters’ aprons had already been hung up by the door. It smelled like home on a weekend morning when dad used to cook breakfast.

  Bacon and coffee.

  The memory hit me unexpectedly. I couldn’t fight the tears any longer. I buried my face in the sweatpants, sobbing into the soft fabric.

  “Jesse?”

  I sniffed a few times and lowered the sweatpants.

  “Hi, Lewis.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m returning your sweatpants,” I held them out to him.

  He looked at my hands but didn’t make a move to take the pants. “Why were you blowing your nose with them?” he asked.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said. “I’ll wash them.”

  “Was supper that bad?”

  “No.” I laughed a tiny bit then I told him about Liam faking his drowning and losing my necklace.

  “Here,” he said, pushing a plate towards me. “We’ll share.” I picked up half of the bacon and tomato sandwich.

  “What am I going to tell my mom?” I asked, between chews.

  “It’s not like you lost it on purpose,” he reasoned. “Do you think she’ll be mad?”

  “Maybe…I don’t know.” I took another bite of the sandwich and picked at the crumbs on the plate. “She’ll probably be more worried about how I feel.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Pissed, depressed—empty,” I sighed. Lewis wouldn’t understand. That necklace had been the last piece of Old Jesse, and now it was lost forever. “It was very special.”

  Lewis took a sip of coffee, staying quiet. I brought my foot up on the stool and rested my chin on my knee, picturing my necklace rusting away at the bottom of the lake. A memory unexpectedly resurfaced, and I smiled.

  “What?” he asked.

  I instinctively stayed quiet, but as the seconds passed, the urge to share this small detail of my life with someone, a new friend actually, outweighed my desire to stay anonymously safe. Besides, Lewis didn’t need to know everything, just this one thing.

  “Last year,” I began, “I had an important track meet but I totally screwed up on the long jump, not even close to the record. I beat myself up about it all afternoon. Then one of the other girls on the team rolled her ankle during the relay and tore a tendon.” I looked over at Lewis. “It meant she would be out for the rest of the season.” He nodded, understanding.

  “We sat together on the bus ride home,” I continued, “talking about how shitty our meet was, but by the time we got back to school the day didn’t seem so crappy after all. The weird part was that this was the first time I’d said more than a couple of sentences to this girl at once. And she had been on my team all year.

  “When I got home and told my parents what happened, Dad smiled and told me that Jesse Owens once said friendships are born on the field of athletic strife, and as awards corrode, friends gather no dust.”

  I blinked a few times, feeling my chest tighten at the memory of Dad’s voice. Lewis gave me a small smile and took our dishes to the sink. I pulled my sleeves down past my hands and pressed my palms into my eyes.

  “It’s good to have a friend like that.” His voice caught, then he cleared his throat. He stayed at the sink, with his back to me, taking his time cleaning up. “Did she ever go back to track?” he asked.

  “No,” I smiled. “It was never really her thing. Chloe’s more of a fashion diva.”

  “How about you?”

  “Nope.” My voice was high, almost cracking.

  Lewis waited a beat, unsure about my exaggerated reaction to his straightforward question. Quietly, he leaned forward and refilled his coffee mug. I noticed a medallion around his neck.

  I took the opportunity to change the topic. “What’s this for?” I asked, pointing to the gold piece.

  He touched the small oval, then tucked it back inside his T-shirt. “It’s Saint Anthony,” he said, “the patron saint of lost items.”

  I gave him a look. “Interesting coincidence.”

  “I’m serious,” he laughed. “You have to pray, asking Saint Anthony to help find whatever it is you’re missing. ‘Something’s lost that can’t be found. Dear St. Anthony, please come ’round.’ It was a gift,” he said. “The person who gave it to me said they lost their heart to me.”

  “Are you kidding? That’s so corny…sorry, I mean that’s so sweet. Your girlfriend must really like you.”

  “Um…”

  “Oh, sorry again,” I said. “Ex-girlfriend?”

  Lewis blushed. “No, boyfriend, actually.”

  I stared at him. “Really?”

  “Yes.” He adjusted his glasses and shifted his weight a few times.

  “Huh,” I said. “Well…what’s he like?”

  Over the next half hour we ate two huge slices of blueberry pie. I told him about Grandma’s list, including the French fries and ice cream for breakfast.

  “Why not do both and have deep fried ice cream?” he suggested.

  No wonder I liked him from the beginning. Lewis was a toasted turkey clubhouse sandwich with extra mayo.

  Leaving the kitchen with his sweatpants for the second time, promising to wash them, I headed towards the lounge, suddenly wanting to email Chloe. I rounded the corner and I smacked into Kirk. He looked serious.

  “
The camp director wants to see you,” he ordered. “Now.”

  TWELVE

  The camp director’s tiny office was at the end of the counsellors’ lounge. With Kirk by my side like some kind of prison guard, I walked by the couches and chairs trying to block out the whispers. It was my own green mile—the last walk before getting fired.

  The large clock on the wall above the computer desk ticked away my last minutes. Jesse Collins, new record holder for shortest stint as camp counsellor.

  She looked up from her desk when we walked in and motioned for me to take a seat. Kirk stayed by the door, maybe to make sure I didn’t bolt. I tried not to roll my eyes at him.

  “Look at this office,” the camp director said, waving her hand like a TV game show model. “Look at all the awards.”

  I stayed quiet. My first year in track had earned me more awards than were on display here. She walked over to the shelf and pointed to a silver-coloured cup. She wiped the plate with the cuff of her shirt, smiling at the inscription. “The Putnam Award,” she read. “Given to the person whose behaviour exhibits the highest values of Kamp Krystal Lake, by instilling pride and morale in his fellow campers.”

  I leaned forward and read the name Lacey Publicover several times. I noticed an empty glass case on her desk.

  “What’s supposed to go in there?” I asked.

  Her smile dropped immediately. “That’s the home for the triathlon cup,” she said, dropping into her chair.

  “I thought you’d never won.”

  “We haven’t,” she said. “This case has been empty for the last twenty years.”

  I squirmed in my seat, bracing myself for her next question. It must be coming, she must know. Again, I wished I could read what my guidance counsellor had put on that form.

  “Kirk tells me there was an episode at the lake today,” she said. “And it involved several members of your cabin. Are you finding things too hard, Jessica?”

  I shook my head; it was easier to lie if I didn’t have to speak. “And it’s just Jesse,” I said.

  She ignored my correction. “One of your kids pretending to drown is a serious prank,” she said.

  No kidding.

  “I understand there was a mix-up with your registration,” she continued. “But you decided to keep the original assignment.”

  “I had no other choice,” I said.

  “Really?”

  I frowned at her surprise over this. “Yes, ma’am,” I explained. “Kirk said there were no other counsellors.”

  “Is that true?” She looked over my head at Kirk.

  “Yes,” he answered, “but she looked capable.” He folded his arms and leaned on the door frame.

  The camp director pinched the end of her braid. I could hear her foot tapping on the floor. Finally she spoke. “This isn’t a warning, Jessica; I know you have your hands full. But if there is another incident, I may have to reconsider Kirk’s decision.” She stood up and gestured toward the door, letting me know the meeting was over.

  “You were the first one in the water and you did all the right things,” she added. “No matter what happens, I’d like you to stay on. Maybe you could help Alicia.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’d appreciate that,” I said, amazed to have dodged this bullet. Don’t get me wrong, I hated Cabin 4A, but I couldn’t get fired. Mom would think I hadn’t tried hard enough, wondering when I’d become such a quitter. Grandma would be disappointed. And Chloe? She was expecting Old Jesse to emerge, not some pathetic version who gave in to a bunch of delinquents.

  “That’s the spirit,” she smiled. “And call me Susan.”

  “Sure…Susan.”

  I marched past Kirk, wishing I could give him a good shove into the wall. His footsteps were right behind me as I marched across the green slope.

  “Hey, Just Jesse.”

  “Screw off.”

  He jumped in front of me. “Hold on,” he said.

  This time I did shove him to the side—at least, I tried. He barely moved. “You tried to get me fired.”

  “What?” He held up his hands as if surrendering. “No way. I’m the one who told her you saved him.”

  “I didn’t save him.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest and dropped my voice to a whiny grumble. “He wasn’t drowning…unfortunately.”

  Kirk slouched forward a bit, bringing his eyes directly in line with mine. The effect was immediate. I felt like I was drowning in chocolate. My breath caught in my throat and I dropped my gaze to his chest.

  Kirk had changed into a faded T-shirt and plaid shorts. “Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry about your necklace. It was nice.”

  The wind rippled his T-shirt. I hadn’t realized how broad his shoulders were. I mean, he was lean, but not skinny, just toned…I guess. And I thought I smelled that spicy scent again.

  I dropped my gaze further down, staring at the grass between our flip-flops. It seemed like he wasn’t going to move until I said something. I took a deep breath and thought about my talk with Lewis about our friends back home. I was so busy trying to convince Kirk I was tough enough to handle Cabin 4A, I’d forgotten how to be civil. “Look,” I began, trying to avoid his chocolate stare. “I was upset earlier, and I ran away without thanking you for diving in after me, with all your clothes on. So…um, thanks for that, I guess.”

  A crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome, Just Jesse,” he said.

  “Yeah, whatever,” I walked around him and fought the urge to turn around, but when I reached the porch steps, I gave in and did a quick peek. He was still watching me.

  THIRTEEN

  I waited until the guys returned from the soccer game before I went to my room. Exhausted, I changed into my pyjamas—my favourite soccer shirt from grade eight, number twenty-four, thank you very much. It was way too small to wear anywhere else, but it was super soft from thousands of washes, and it matched my purple underwear. It was perfect for humid summer nights.

  I lay in bed listening to the boys talk about the soccer victory over the counsellors. Then I wondered what had happened to Devin. I kind of thought he might want to cheer me up.

  The kiss was bad, but maybe it’s like Chloe said, that we were both so nervous it turned out awkward and sloppy. It was definitely sloppy. I began to picture us together, but this time I made the kiss slower and softer.

  A burst of laughter from the boys interrupted my image of Devin wrapping his biceps around me. I heard a few descriptions and I knew exactly who they were talking about—Lacey’s cupettes.

  Cabin 4A is turning into one big frustrated hormone, me included.

  I sat up and looked out the window. The full moon illuminated the grounds. I was staring into the darkness when my head snapped to the side.

  Someone was out there.

  I moved back, away from the window. The figure continued to walk across the lawn straight toward my cabin.

  Every summer horror movie I ever saw ran through my mind. I squirmed to the top of the bed and waited for a hockey mask or chainsaw to appear. The footsteps got closer.

  “J.J.,” he whispered.

  Devin.

  I let out a breath and pushed back the sheets I had tucked under my chin. I glanced at the door, worried the boys would hear him. This is the last thing I needed Susan to know about.

  “J.J.?” he raised his voice.

  I rushed to the window, almost knocking into him.

  He screamed and fell back on the ground. “Holy shit,” he laughed from the grass.

  “Shh!”

  “Sorry,” he whispered. Devin brushed off the back of his shorts and stood on the lowest brick with his arms resting on the sill. “I won my soccer game tonight,” he said. His eyes lingered on the number twenty-four on my shirt.

  “Good,” I said, crossing my arms, suddenly em
barrassed.

  His eyes found my face again. “So, are you tired?”

  “I’m in bed.”

  “I see that,” he smiled.

  “I mean…yeah, I’m tired.” Today had been crappy and I wanted him to at least ask how I was feeling before we started making out.

  “Are you too tired to get a little closer?” he asked, reaching for me.

  I looked down at his hand then back to my bedroom door. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  He studied the window sill. “Is something wrong?”

  “Well, yeah. Today was horrible—I mean the thing at the lake, and then I had to see Susan.”

  He cleared his throat and met my eyes. “Maybe tomorrow night, then?”

  I stayed quiet. I was confused and a bit pissed off. Hadn’t he heard the rumours about me in the counsellors’ lounge?

  Devin took my silence as a hint. He sighed and dropped out of sight.

  I stared at the empty window frame feeling suddenly deflated. Then I glanced up at the sky and saw my star.

  I put my hands on the window sill and leaned forward. “Wait!” I called out.

  With his quick receiver reflexes, Devin ran back and jumped up, practically sitting on the window’s edge. “Yes?” he teased.

  “Um…you forgot something,” I said in a breathy voice that wasn’t entirely fake. I studied the face of this surfer boy grinning back at me. God, he was cute. And sweet. And nice. And strong. And good smelling. And…and kissing me!

  His muscled arms held me close, pressing my number twenty-four against his T-shirt. The kiss deepened and I didn’t even register the fact only two thin strips of cotton were all that separated our bare skin. What I was thinking about was Chloe’s golden retriever, Barney. One time Chloe’s brother had left a tub of vanilla ice cream on the counter. I walked in the kitchen and found Barney licking that container like it was doggie heroin.

  So there I was, hanging out a window with Devin, making out in the moonlight like he was the dog and I was the bowl of ice cream.