Girl on the Run

by B. R. Myers

  His voice sounded thick. “Everything has always come easily to you; winning races, having lots of friends, getting good grades.” He paused and cleared his throat again. “We’re so proud of you, but I want you to be prepared for disappointment.”

  “This is a great pep talk.”

  “Life is tough, Jesse.”

  We ran in silence for a few moments.

  “Um…Dad? Isn’t this is the part where you mention some fact about Jesse Owens that brings meaning to whatever you’re trying to explain?”

  He slowed down a bit. “This is a good one: ‘It all goes so fast, and character makes the difference when it’s close.’”

  “I’m fast,” I said.

  “And you’ve got character. I think Grandma calls it gumption.”

  “I’ll be okay, then?” I smiled, but my voice faltered a bit. Dad was usually never this serious on our runs. He was freaking me out a bit. I was still praying he wouldn’t mention sex. The morning had that awkward kind of vibe.

  Dad laughed a bit. “Lots of gumption and a fast pair of legs will get you far, Jesse.”

  “Speaking of fast…start the clock!” Dad pulled out the stopwatch, and I took off down the trail.

  Sprint for ten seconds. Run for twenty paces. Sprint for twenty seconds…thirty. Forty. Fifty. Done.

  I leaned forward with my hands on my knees, sucking in air. I stood and looked back up the trail. It was quiet and still.

  “Dad?” I called out.

  I walked up the slight grade. A knocking sound made me look around. A woodpecker was searching for breakfast. When I reached the top of the grade I thought he was playing a joke on me for teasing him earlier.

  “Very funny!” I yelled. “Now get up, old man before you pee your pants and freeze to the ground.”

  He was lying face down, with his arms and legs splayed around him. But he didn’t move. At all. I heard the woodpecker again.

  This was no prank. “Dad!” I raced toward his figure, sprawled on the path. The stopwatch clutched in his hand was still counting. I dropped to my knees and turned him over. My fingers tried to brush the dirt and gravel imbedded around his nose and mouth.

  “Dad!” I yelled. I grabbed him by the shoulders. “Dad! Wake up!”

  I screamed and shook him a few more times. My lifeguard training finally kicked in. I checked his pulse. Nothing. No chest rising or falling, either.

  “HELP!” I screamed. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.” My shaking hands fumbled to unzip his jacket. I gave him two breaths of air and began chest compressions.

  “HELP!” I screamed again. But no one came. It was too early. I kept doing CPR ignoring my numb wrists and the sound of Dad’s ribs breaking under my hands. “HELP!”

  Only the woodpecker answered. Wait! The cell phone! Frantically patting down his pockets, I felt nothing and realized the phone was home on the hall table.

  I gave him more breaths. I could keep going forever. I remembered reading once that an ER team worked on someone for over half an hour and brought them back. I glanced at the stopwatch. It was now past twenty minutes.

  “FIRE!” I shouted over and over again.

  Someone from a nearby house finally heard me. They came out wearing a long winter coat over their pajamas. They called the ambulance.

  “I’ll take over compressions,” they offered, kneeling beside me.

  “No!” I shoved them away with my shoulder, and kept pushing on his chest. “Don’t touch my dad!”

  Sirens squealed in the distance, their sharp tone slowly ringing louder.

  Ringing?

  I opened my eyes. I wasn’t on the park path in February. I was on the trail at summer camp. But I could hear something. Not a siren. A bell was ringing.

  Get to the lake before it’s too late.

  I wobbled out of the woods. My hands went to my cheek, feeling a bruise already swelling. Duff was on the dock, ringing the bell. My feet moved me across the grass before my brain could figure it out.

  Duff ran up to me, almost knocking us over. He signed so quickly I couldn’t understand him. Tears were streaming down his face. He pulled me to the end of the dock, and pointed to an empty canoe halfway to the float. I held him by the shoulders and looked straight at him. “Keep ringing the bell,” I told him.

  I grabbed the PFD, strapped the Velcro end around my ankle, and dove in.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  The coldness shocked me. The PFD tugged at my foot as I swam down, searching, but all I could see were tiny fuzzy specks. My sneakers kept clipping my ankles. I was so frantic to get into the water, I’d left them on. I resurfaced and took a quick gulp of air. The bell was still ringing. I looked to the shore, and saw Liam’s unmistakable mohawk sprinting up to Cabin 4A.

  I never wished for a prank so much in my life. Please let it be a joke, I prayed. I began to swim toward the empty canoe. I was halfway when a head broke the surface. Black hair plastered a face with wide eyes.

  “Scotty!” I kicked and splashed until I was close enough to reached out and grab his arm.

  “Sp…” he coughed.

  “It’s okay,” I said, my voice trembling. I gave him the PFD to hold. “I’ve got you.” I pulled him toward the dock.

  “No,” he said.

  “It’s okay,” I repeated. “Relax, we’re almost there.”

  The ringing stopped and Duff reached down to help Scotty climb onto the dock.

  “He can’t…swim,” Scotty wheezed.

  Duff squeezed my shoulder and spelled the name.

  “Keep ringing the bell!” I made my way back out to the canoe and dove again but there was nothing but blackness. I spread my fingers out and dove even deeper. I felt hair-like tips of eelgrass. Completely blind, I waved my arms, hoping to feel something…anything.

  My lungs burned. There was no sound, no light, only the tiny bubbles escaping from my mouth. Something slid by me, then another, and another. I was in a school of eels. Punching threw the mass, my hand felt something soft. Hair.

  I grabbed a fist full of Spencer’s wild, curly hair and began to kick. My free hand clawed at the water, trying to pull us up. But there was so much water above us. I fought my brain as every nerve ending was screaming at me to breathe.

  A burst of bubbles spat out of my mouth. Everything was going numb. I was twisted in the water, unsure if my legs were moving. Spencer’s hair started to slip out of my fingers. Slowly, we floated back down, the pain in my chest gone, and finally my eyes closed. Everything was black.

  “Feet and lungs, Jesse!” my dad’s voice screamed.

  A jolt ripped through me.

  “Feet and lungs, Jesse!”

  I kicked hard and didn’t stop until the bright buoy came into focus, floating above us. Then finally air, huge mouthfuls of wonderful air. Voices rushed in surrounding me.

  “I got her! I got her!”

  “Let him go, Jesse.”

  “Hurry!”

  “Let go, Jesse.”

  Someone pried my fist open. Blinking a few times, the scene came into focus. Several swimmers took Spencer to the dock. We were much closer to the shore than I thought. Within seconds, he was out of the water, with Alicia and Tyler bent over him.

  Hugging the PFD, I rested my chin on the top and watched Tyler put his ear to Spencer’s face. He shook his head at Alicia. She hadn’t started compressions. Instead she gave him two breaths.

  Please.

  My arms slipped off the buoy.

  “It’s okay,” Kirk said from behind. “I’ve got you.” His arm was wrapped around my waist. He held the buoy with the other hand. The hurried voices from the dock were muffled by Kirk’s breathing next to my ear.

  “I’ve got you,” he repeated.

  Spencer threw up and Alicia rolled him onto his side. After more violent coughing they posi
tioned his arms and legs, still crouched close to him, watching and talking. The camp nurse had made her way across the lawn, a first aid kit in her hands as she ran.

  “He’s breathing on his own,” I whispered.

  Kirk let out a deep breath. “Hold on,” he said. “I’ll do all the work.”

  His hand slipped away from my waist. He swam back to shore, pulling me along. When it was shallow enough for us to stand, he put an arm under my elbow, and we walked onto the beach. He lowered me onto the sand and unfastened the Velcro around my ankle.

  We heard sirens in the distance and silently watched the paramedics assess Spencer. After strapping him to a stretcher, Alicia and Tyler helped them carry him up the grassy slope. An oxygen mask and IV were already in place. Cabin 4A, along with the other kids who were awake, followed behind, shouting encouragement. A weak thumbs-up from Spencer resulted in a nervous cheer from the onlookers. Alicia jumped into the back of the ambulance before the doors shut.

  Kirk and I turned to each other. “Jesus, Jesse,” he whispered.

  “Just call me J.J.,” I said.

  He stood and gently pulled me up with him. “You should see the nurse.”

  My legs were still wobbly. “No, I’m fine. I just need to rest for a minute,” I said. I looked down and saw I was only wearing one of my runners. “I just need to be warm.”

  “It’s okay.” He put his hand behind my knees and scooped me up into his arms. “I’ve got you.”

  Kirk carried me across the lawn. I closed my eyes, letting my head lay against his bare chest, listening to his heart race.

  “Here, let me help.” Ben’s voice came from the side.

  “Get the door,” Kirk grunted.

  After a few more steps I was lowered down onto a bed.

  “What can I do?” Ben asked, looking anxious.

  “Stay with the rest of your kids,” Kirk snapped. “They need you.”

  Ben gave me one last look and left the cabin.

  I sat on the twin bed, shivering in my wet things. Kirk disappeared around the corner then came back with a pile of clothes and towels. Kneeling in front of me, he took a towel and began to dry my hair.

  “Where am I?” I asked. The room was bigger than my shed, with windows and a desk, but it looked like there was only one bed.

  “My cabin.” A few moments of silence followed.

  “I’m cold,” I said. My brain was on survival mode. Breathe. Exhale.

  He handed me another towel. “Keep drying off,” he said. He disappeared around the corner again, then came back wearing a T-shirt and pair of shorts.

  “You need to get out of your wet things.” He pointed to the folded clothes beside me. “I’ll be right back.”

  After the door shut behind him, I peeled off my running gear, including my lone sneaker, and towelled my goosebumped skin. I pulled on his sweatpants and T-shirt, and sat on the bed in a daze. The water dripped down my back from my ponytail but I hardly noticed; everything felt numb.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  I’m not sure how long I sat on Kirk’s unmade bed, staring at the window across from me. But time was moving forward, the routine of morning life at camp had begun. The random voices of kids echoed across the grounds, canoes were being put in the water, a game of blindfolded tag had started, and there was the distinct sound of flapping sails. My head began to throb as I slowly emerged from my daze.

  I looked around Kirk’s room. A small desk under the window was covered in papers and magazines. A bowl of what looked like potato chip crumbs was on the floor by the bed. The drawers under his bed stuck out a bit, stuffed with T-shirts and socks.

  Draped over a chair across from me was the shirt he’d worn the night we kissed. I wiggled my fingers, remembering how I’d grabbed the fabric. Then Spencer had interrupted us.

  “Oh god,” I whispered, my voice rough. It hurt to speak. I let my head fall into my hands. “Please let him be okay.”

  Footsteps thumped on the porch. My head whipped up as the door opened. Kirk came in with two steaming mugs. “Sorry,” he said, pushing the door closed with his elbow. “I had to have a talk with the guys.” I felt a little thrill that he was apologizing for leaving me. He walked toward the bed, sweeping the pile of wet towels on the floor to the side with his foot.

  “I thought you could use something warm,” he said, handing me one of the mugs. I wrapped my cold fingers around the mug and inhaled.

  My good friend vanilla chai.

  He pulled the chair up to the bed and sat down, watching me over the rim of his cup.

  I took a few sips. The tea slipped down my throat, soothing and warm. I rested the mug on my knee, then slowly met his eyes. I shook my head. “He can’t swim!” I said. My voice raised at the end like a question. It made no sense. “How is that possible?”

  Kirk gave me a worried look, then his expression softened. He let out a long sigh and began to explain what happened. “Spencer confessed to Scotty and the twins last night,” he said. His voice was level and calm. “He convinced the guys to teach him while everyone else was asleep. You almost caught them, actually. They hid while you ran past.”

  I remembered the grass had been beaten down to the dock, but I was too pissed at the world to notice what it might mean. My stomach dropped. Lewis was right—I had been playing the victim. I was so wrapped up in my own problems, I didn’t see what should have been obvious. “Why didn’t he tell me?” I asked.

  “He was embarrassed and beginning to panic. Water safety with Alicia was starting this week, and Lacey wasn’t going to help him ditch anymore.”

  I almost choked on my tea. “Lacey was helping him?” I actually cringed when I said her name.

  Kirk rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and looked unconvinced. “Yeah, I’m not sure on that one. The guys were vague on the details. All they knew was that Lacey and Spencer had some kind of deal.”

  “Deal?” This was so twisted. My head started to throb again. “Well…what does she say?” I couldn’t say her name, my shock was turning into hate, quickly.

  Kirk read my expression and leaned back in the chair. “She’s in Susan’s office,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was upset about that or not. “I’ll talk to the guys again, but not right away. They’re still shaken up. I mean, Duff had to watch it all.” There was a pause. “And if you hadn’t come along, even Scotty…” his voice caught. Embarrassed, he looked away, and I did the same.

  I stared down into the tea, a distorted reflection of my face wobbling back up at me. Kirk reached out and put his hand over my fingers. “You’re still shivering.” He put my drink on the table beside the bed. “Get under the covers,” he said, pulling back the blanket. “You need to warm up.” I let him tuck me into his bed. The fog I’d been in slowly started to lift. I was lying in his bed—his bed! A place he might have been naked in just hours ago.

  Kirk brought the covers up to my chin. He smoothed his hand over my arm, slowly, deliberately. I lay there quietly, watching him watching me. His expression started a warm glow inside me. But instead of the usual racing pulse I felt when he looked at me, this time I was calm. I knew that I could trust him…with anything. After all, he’d pulled me out of the lake, clinging to an unconscious kid. I wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about me, and what I had to say may change everything, but I realized the time had come to finally tell someone the truth.

  “It’s my fault,” I whispered.

  Kirk shook his head, misunderstanding. “There were a lot of factors leading up to today, but the blame doesn’t lie with you.” His voice was so gentle it broke my heart. “Like I said, I’ll talk with the guys later, but don’t worry, I don’t think there was anything you could have done.”

  I took a deep breath, ready to confess. “I mean my dad.”

  He moved closer and studied my face for a few seconds. His eyes grew large, fi
nally making the connection. “But the article said he had a heart attack.”

  “He was running…with me.”

  Kirk reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I made him go,” I said. “He forgot his bike, and I should have let him go back and get it. Or when the cell phone wasn’t charged, I should have taken mine!” My voice was rising. “Or when he kept having pain in his arm, I should have taken him to emergency, I should have done…something.” I sat up, unable to hold back my sobs. “He died because I was so selfish I wanted to run for a stupid chance at a scholarship that I don’t even need until next year!”

  He leaned close, bringing his face inches from mine, his stare intense. “Your dad died because his heart stopped,” he said. “Not because of anything you did.”

  My tears kept coming. I covered my face, ashamed. I’d never mentioned my true feelings to anyone, not to Chloe, not even to Grandma. But here I was, spilling my greatest sin to Kirk. The bed sagged under his weight. I turned and buried my face in his chest. His arms wrapped around me as I continued to cry.

  We stayed like that, listening to me let out a string of great rolling sobs followed by a few gasps of air. I’d sniff for a bit then start all over again. It was a full-fledged ugly cry.

  Unlike in my bedroom at home, I could be as loud as I wanted. I hadn’t realized how much I had been holding back. The whole time Kirk stayed quiet, rubbing my back, and handing me a Kleenex when I got too slobbery.

  I wasn’t embarrassed. After all the times he’d witnessed my humiliation, being with him when I was at my most vulnerable seemed…just right. There was no pretending. I was content to be myself, even if that meant being a goobery mess.

  When I was finished, his shirt was wet.

  “Sorry,” I sniffed.

  He brushed a finger across my cheek, wiping away the last tear. “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Totally exhausted.” I gave him half a smile. “But better, thanks.”

  Kirk was still holding me close. His milk chocolate eyes stared into mine and my heart responded with its usual ‘Ode to Kirk’ beat. He hadn’t smiled back and I worried what he must be thinking. He seemed to read my mind. “It’s not your fault,” he said. Then he nodded to the pillow. “You need to get some rest.”