by B. R. Myers
Spencer squinted across the lawn and watched Devin disappear around the corner of the main hall. “Counsellor?” he frowned.
“Whatever,” I waved my hand, “it’s none of your business. Anyway, you look better.”
“Yeah, I feel great.”
“The others are up at the soccer field,” I said. “Do you want to walk up?”
Spencer just shook his head. “I better save my strength for the talent show.”
“Seriously?” I looked him up and down. “Are you going to do something?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “You’re going to be there, right?”
“Everybody’s going.”
“Good.” He polished off the brownie in two bites. “Well, back to bed.”
My eyes stayed on that screen door long after it closed. I was experiencing what I believe is best described as acute paranoia with a dash of intuition. I sat mulling over what Spencer might be planning next.
SIXTEEN
The sun danced on the water and a light breeze kept the bugs away. I took a deep breath, and started to calm down. Kamp Krystal Lake was really quite beautiful. Another deep breath put Devin in perspective. I’d tell him tonight. I’d use what Chloe called the Band-Aid approach—fast and painless. After all, it’s not even breaking up if we’re not really going out.
What do you call deciding not to make out anymore? I checked my watch hoping I’d have time for a quick email, but the boys would be returning from the soccer game soon.
As the last lessons finished up on the lake, a few counsellors were pulling canoes out of the water and turning them over. I noticed one guy in particular. He was shirtless, with jean cut-offs and a baseball cap turned backwards. I lifted my hand to shield my eyes from the sun’s glare.
Yes, much better.
How could I have not seen him before? Maybe this guy had a cabin of older kids with a different activity schedule.
I did a quick inventory of my outfit. I was wearing my running shorts and zip-up workout jacket over a bathing suit top. I stood up and ran my fingers through my hair a few times to fluff up the waves. After all, Chloe deserved an email with something more exciting than Cabin 4A’s embarrassing stunts and a guy who kissed like her dog.
I marched my flip-flops down to the beach. The closer I got the more details I saw. The baseball hat was blue and white: a Leafs fan. I unzipped my jacket halfway. The bare tanned back was lean, with strong shoulders—definitely a swimmer. I unzipped my jacket all the way.
The hottie’s friend noticed me first. “Hey, Jesse Collins, right?” he asked. His eyes left my face and began to memorize my legs.
“Um…yeah.” And thanks for the unwarranted body scan, perv.
He made eye contact again. “I don’t think we’ve met yet,” he said. I recognized the voice as the guy I heard talking with Kirk the night of the bonfire.
“Tyler,” the hottie’s voice said. “This is Just Jesse.”
Crap. Crap. Crap.
I prayed I was having auditory hallucinations. I turned to face those milk chocolate eyes. I dropped my gaze and stared at his bare chest.
Nope, try again.
Then to his cut-offs.
Jesse, you idiot.
Then his legs.
Shit! Nothing was safe.
Tyler was standing with his hand out to me while my eyes did the foxtrot over Kirk’s body. I blurted out something that was a cross between a grunt and a choke as I grabbed his hand and shook it.
“The talent show is tonight,” Kirk said, oblivious to my inner conflict. “Are you entering the eel toss competition?”
I did a fake laugh, and zipped up my jacket. He took off his cap and ran a hand through his wavy black hair before putting it back on the right way. The gesture made me think of Scotty.
I managed to regain some of my composure. “Hey,” I said. “What did you speak to Scotty about today?”
“Just something between him and me.”
I hated how he assumed supreme command over my cabin, like I was totally clueless. I tilted my chin up, hoping I looked tough. “Was this something you didn’t think I could handle?”
My so-called attitude didn’t even faze him. “No,” he said. He leaned against one of the overturned canoes and hooked his thumb through a belt loop.
I played with the zipper pull on my jacket, wishing he didn’t look so much like a body double for Chris Hemsworth. He gave me a smirk and lifted his stupid, patronizing eyebrow. For some reason I wanted to get a reaction out of him. I was sick of the Mr. Cool Head Counsellor routine. “I’m wondering if you’ve placed bets on how long I’ll last,” I said. “You keep asking if I want to quit.”
“And I hope you don’t,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what happens next.”
“Glad I’m so entertaining,” I said, silently cursing him for getting under my skin. I needed to change the subject. “Speaking of entertaining, has Spencer ever done anything for the talent show before?”
Tyler and Kirk exchanged glances. “No,” they said.
“I think he has something planned,” I said.
“Really?” Kirk asked. “Are you worried?” He shared a quick grin with Tyler.
“No.” I lied. “Anyway, he’s been sick all day.”
“Did he see the nurse?” Kirk asked.
“That’s what I suggested, but Lacey just sent him to the cabin.”
“Huh.” Kirk folded his arms across his chest and ran his thumb along his bottom lip.
Oh god, I was losing it. I had to leave before I starting giggling like a cupette. I mumbled goodbye, and flew back to Cabin 4A.
After the boys returned from their soccer game, all of us, including a healthy-looking Spencer toting a backpack, went up to the main hall. We squished through the crowd and sat at our usual table in the corner.
Spencer had done up his hair extra spiky—his evening look, I assumed. He ignored me and tucked his backpack between his feet. I stared at the floor from the corner of my eye. If that bag started to move, it was no-holds-barred time. I’d push kids out of the way to escape a stampede of snakes if I had to. The twins were signing, and I was struck by the advantage they had in a noisy room.
Scotty yelled across the table. “Hey, J.J. I just want to say…sorry.”
“For what?”
He picked at a splinter on the table, hardly meeting my gaze. “The eel thing.”
“I’ve forgotten about that already. And I don’t blame you for going along with Spencer’s schemes. But let me warn you,” I said, pointing a finger. “The next time you guys plan another stunt like that, I won’t be the one screaming.”
Smooooth.
“Man,” Spencer said, “you’re on to us like white on rice.”
Scotty still looked tense. “I’m the one who caught the eel,” he admitted. “It was stupid. Sorry.”
My mouth hung open. “You?”
“I’m the only one who could dive down that far,” he blushed. “Kirk taught me last summer.”
My shoulders slumped a bit. “Is that what he talked to you about earlier?”
“Yeah.” He dropped his gaze again.
“Was it your idea?” I asked. The disappointment washed over me in waves. Going along with the guys to save face was one thing, but being instrumental in the grossest prank yet? Not my Scotty.
“No,” Spencer said, “the idea was mine.”
“Hey!” Liam interrupted. “Duff is the one who came up with the idea for us to put it in her bed.”
Duff signed this was true, wanting to make sure he received credit.
My stomach flipped. “Oh god! I don’t care.”
“I’m the one who pulled back the sheets, so we could put it next to her!” Spencer argued back to the twins.
“Stop.” I clasped my hands over my ears. “It�
�s bad enough you stood over me while I slept. I don’t want to hear any more about the gross dead eel.”
“It wasn’t dead at first,” Liam said.
“Shut up!”
“We were actually worried the wiggling would wake you,” Liam interpreted, as Duff signed.
I put a hand over my mouth to keep in the scream and the vomit that might come out. Turning away, my eyes fell on Kirk. He was watching our table with smug satisfaction.
I bet having my puke all over his perfect chest would wipe that smirk off his face.
Giggles drifted over from Lacey’s table. Two of the cupettes gave Liam the old winky wink. Duff turned his back to them, hiding a white-knuckled fist under his arm. When he caught me watching, I looked away, pretending I didn’t see.
Over the next half hour the sunset streamed into the room as camper after camper performed their “talent.” True, it takes guts to get up in front of a room full of people, but it also should take some talent—which about half of the participants seemed to have forgotten in their cabins.
I kept an eye on Spencer and his unmoving backpack. What the hell did he have in there? Not that it even mattered. I’d been so brainwashed by this little bastard he could torture me just by making me think something was going to happen.
Lilting voices broke through my paranoia. Lacey’s cupettes were on the stage, lined up in front of the microphone, all dressed in pink miniskirts.
“L,” they sang, “is for loveliest.”
“A is for angel.”
“C is for most charming counsellor.”
I think you get the picture; I’m not sure what the E stood for, probably most elegant blond or everlasting beauty. As for the C, I had my own word in mind. And I’ll never know what the Y stood for because I couldn’t hear over the catcalls coming from my table. The cupettes twirled and curtsied then each gave Queen Lacey a big hug and kiss.
Susan appeared on stage with her usual accessories—the clipboard and the megaphone. “Thank you girls, that was wonderful.” She nodded toward Lacey. “Looks like the Putnam Award for you again, my dear.”
My eyes had rolled back so far I thought I could see my brain.
“And now our last entry,” Susan announced. “Cabin 4…A.”
No shit?
Spencer took out a book and stood in front of the microphone. “As many of you know,” he started. “I’ve been coming to Kamp Krystal Lake for a few years. But it’s only been this week that I’m beginning to appreciate what this place has to offer. One of the main differences is that, for the first time, I have a cabin full of really cool friends. And tonight was an opportunity too good to pass up.”
Wow. My heart melted a little. Was this the reason behind the fake shellfish bronchitis thing? Had he used that time to come up with an ode to Cabin 4A? Maybe this was an apology for the pie, or the eel, or the fake drowning. My checks flushed and I started to smile. Maybe this was an after-school special. And if I could transform Spencer into a human being, I could find Old Jesse and get my life back.
Mom was right. Grandma was right. Chloe was right. I was meant to be here this summer. Everything was coming together. I wouldn’t have to pretend anymore; I could be me again.
Spencer cleared his throat then held up a little red book in my direction, making sure I saw it; the little red book that was usually hidden in my room. And that’s when the floor dropped away.
He began to read. “Yes, Virginia, there is a Kissing Clause.”
SEVENTEEN
I love to watch How The Grinch Stole Christmas. My favourite part is when the sled begins to slip off the very top of the mountain, just as the Grinch realizes the real meaning of Christmas, and you hear a scream of brass horns. It’s a short piece of music, but one that’s very effective.
When Spencer started to read my diary, I heard those same horns. I’m surprised my hair didn’t stand on end. People around the room were squirming in their seats at first, but when the kissing description started, everyone leaned forward. By twos and threes, people turned to our table, zeroing in on my burning face.
He read, “The instant kink in my neck should have been my first clue that this was not going to be fun. He started so quickly I barely had time to prepare. One second he was smiling and the next his mouth was grinding against my teeth. I tried to react to the sudden impact…”
Here were my options; I could sit and play dumb or move my ass. The coward in me wanted to slide under the table. But as Spencer continued to read about the disastrous kiss, I remembered writing Devin’s name.
The hall was crammed with bodies. Unable to push my way through the crowd, I stepped up and ran along the top of the tables, making my way toward the stage. Ignoring the growing calls and whistles, I kept my eye on the target. Spencer looked up and we locked eyes.
It was like some old spaghetti western. I was the good, he was the bad, and the diary was the ugly truth. He read faster, trying to get out every detail. Devin’s name would be coming up in the next sentence.
I launched myself off the last table. My long jump training kicked in, and I soared through the air like some kind of freaky martial arts fighter. I slammed into Spencer, and we skidded across the stage. He squirmed out of my grasp and took off, still holding my diary.
He zigzagged through the crowd and ran out the main door. The sun had just set, but there was still enough light that everyone who had filtered outside could easily watch me chase that turd of Satan all over the green slope. I almost had the collar of his shirt a few times, but my flip-flops were slowing me down. I kicked them off with a curse, and then started chasing him in my bare feet.
“Go J.J.!” Scotty called out from the crowd.
I pumped my arms and let my feet fly over the grass. Spencer looked back and panicked when he saw how close I was. He led me down to the beach, and started crawling over the canoes, hoping to slow me down. But instead of canoes, I saw hurdles.
Attack the first one and set the pace.
I finally caught him and this time I pinned him for good. Wrenching the diary from his hands, I dragged him back to the main hall. We were greeted with applause and laughter. Spencer was too out of breath to say anything.
I pulled him back toward the stage. “You’re not done yet,” I growled.
We stood in front of the microphone. I pointed at the page where I wanted him to start. Clearing his throat, he began to read the last few sentences I’d written last night.
“But I guess camp means different things for each kid,” he said. “Some want to find new friends, or a summer romance. Others want to be noticed, and some just wish they could belong. I hope to find my place among them; my four horsemen of the apocalypse, my lost boys, my little men in training…my guys.”
The room was quiet when he finished. I tucked the diary under my arm and went back to our table in the corner. The clapping started, and then built up around us. Duff made a sign.
“He says you’ve got balls,” Liam said, nodding in agreement.
I glanced toward Kirk’s spot, but he wasn’t there. Susan took the stage and brought the room under control. “Very exciting ending! I want to thank all the participants for their efforts tonight. The judges will return in five minutes with their decision.”
I glared at Spencer. “Guess who’s getting a private lesson in water safety,” I said. “And Lacey’s not going to be there to send you to the cabin this time.” A look of terror crossed his face, and I felt a wave of satisfaction.
Then I saw Devin. My stomach rose up my throat then fell down to my feet. I couldn’t stand the look on his face. I stared down at my diary, wanting to throw it in the lake. There was a tap on my shoulder.
Susan said, “Come with me, please.” I followed her out of the main hall, taking my diary with me. It felt heavy in my sweaty palms.
We entered her office, and I sat down in the same
chair as last time. A steaming mug was on the desk in front of me.
Susan leaned back in her chair. “Jessica,” she started, “that was one of the most interesting talent show acts I think I have ever seen.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I couldn’t let him keep reading. Someone’s name—”
“That’s not why I called you here,” she interrupted. She stood up and walked to the window, her hands clasped behind her back.
I guessed she was probably trying to come up with a way to tell me I was fired. How did she word it the last time? She’d reconsider Kirk’s decision?
Her silence was a bit eerie. I focused on the steaming mug on her desk. It smelled sweet and spicy at the same time. I inhaled deeply, wishing the tea was for me. Part of me realized Susan had started talking again. Tilting my head, I read the little paper tab on the tea bag. Vanilla chai. I breathed it in again. It smelled better than Lewis’s cinnamon rolls.
“I’ve never seen anyone run like you,” Susan said.
“Huh?”
“You’re some kind of machine. And jumping over the canoes! It’s like you were born to run.”
That punch of reality came out of nowhere. I leaned away from the tea, putting a hand over my stomach.
“Jessica? Do you remember what I told you about the triathlon cup?”
I swallowed dryly. “Am I going to be fired?”
“Fired? Of course not. I want you to do the running portion of the race!”
There it was. “You want me to race?” The blood drained from my face and whooshed all the way to my toes.
“Your run on the beach was very impressive.”
“I don’t run…anymore.” The true reason for this meeting was dawning on me. The door opened and closed behind me.
“Kirk,” Susan said, looking over my shoulder. “I’ve asked Jessica to run for us.”
He reached in front of me and took the cup of tea. “What you did just now was very”…he searched for the word. “Impressive.”
I kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t sure if he meant the embarrassing diary or the humiliating chase. It was like someone telling you they like your hairdo when you’re standing in front of them naked.