Thief of Happy Endings

by Kristen Chandler

  We follow the creek that flows through camp upstream about a mile where it gets deep in a stand of willows. The guys all cannonball in the second we get there, because that’s a rule written in guy DNA somewhere. Devri and her friends try to lay out and immediately get thrown in. Then there is a frenzy of pushing and daring and jumping until we’re all in dunking one another and officially having a good time.

  The water is dark and cold, which is heaven after a summer of dust and heat. And for the first time I think since we got here, we’re all having fun together without being supervised. I’m not sure what I love more, the cold water or the freedom.

  It’s deep enough that we can get in up to our armpits in some spots, or float on our backs. A few kids start having chicken fights, which is where small people sit on bigger people’s shoulders in the water and try to push another team’s small person off into the water. It usually takes about ten seconds for it to become more like Mortal Kombat.

  Granger yells at me. His shagster beard still hasn’t filled in after growing it all summer. It’s just long in patches, which makes him look feral. “Hey, Cassidy, be my partner. We’ll take on Banner and Scotty.”

  Banner stands on the side of the stream looking like the calendar girl shot for July in her microscopic shorts and soaking-wet T-shirt. Scotty looks at her hopefully. She doesn’t immediately say no.

  I say, “I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

  “Oh, come on,” Scotty says. “Are you scared?”

  Scotty just wants Banner to climb on him.

  “I’m like a foot shorter than Banner,” I say.

  Granger laughs. “You totally shanked Coulter. You can take her.”

  “I didn’t shank anyone,” I say.

  “Don’t bug her, now” says Banner. “Nice girls don’t play chicken, do they, Cassidy?”

  After a summer of saying it, she still manages to make my name sound like an insult.

  “I wouldn’t know. But I don’t want to.”

  The boys moan. I look over at Justin, who is still sitting on a log dangling his feet and supervising. He’s the only guy wearing a shirt, so it makes him look like he’s the lifeguard. Even Charlie is going topless. But that’s Justin. Man apart.

  Charlie is flirting with Devri by splashing her with water. Scotty keeps doing backflips right next to Banner, and she’s fluttering her lashes like tractor beams. Alice and Ethan are looking for frogs together. Izzy and Andrew are making out, as usual. There’s something in the air. I look up at Justin. He’s looking at me. I put my head under the water.

  This team building could get out of hand if we stay here too long.

  I slide off under the water and flip over onto my back. I let my feet bob up. The stream carries me, and soon I’m slipping downstream, floating like a stick in the sun. Over me is a painted blue sky and large Wyoming clouds. The water level drops, and my feet skim the mossy rocks. My hair floats behind me.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. Where you going?” Justin asks, floating up next to me.

  I look at our toes bobbing side by side. “No place.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to supervise that.” He takes my hand, and we let our bodies float together, laughing as we try to keep the perfect balance while holding hands. Inside I am so light I think I could float without water. I lean my head back all the way so I can see the whole sky. Justin’s hand is wrapped around mine. I want to stay floating right here forever, but the current keeps moving us, taking us farther downstream.

  After a few minutes we come to an eddy shaded by willows. On the riverbank the grass squawks with grasshoppers. The willows hang over, heavy in the heat. Justin drops his feet and takes my shoulders so I float in front of him, anchored by his arms. The cold and the heat and the way Justin is looking at me make my head spin. I close my eyes, letting the water pull at my sides. Justin drops down behind me, his chest pressed against my back. Just for a second his hands relax. I open my eyes, thinking he’s letting go. “I got you,” he says.

  I swivel around in the water until I’m facing him. My legs loosely wrap around his. “Maybe I have you.”

  He raises his eyebrows and then pushes at my legs, but my legs are a lot stronger than they used to be. Justin says, “Now you stop that, before I lose my mind. Except it’s about two months too late for that.”

  “What does that mean?” I say.

  He looks away.

  My face heats up. I drop my legs and try to stand up in the current. When we were floating, the current felt easy. When I try to stand, it feels like it’s shooting past. I don’t mind. I really don’t. I put my hand behind Justin’s neck. His muddy brown eyes are on mine. He leans down and kisses me. His lips are cold like the stream.

  “You know they are going to come find us down here, right?” I say.

  He looks upstream. “They’re busy.”

  We step farther toward the bank to get out of the current. The willows make black shadows on the water. I feel a chill run through me from the shade and from standing halfway out of the river. He pulls me next to him, and his wet T-shirt is cold on my skin.

  “How come you wear your shirt in the water?” I say.

  “How come you do?”

  I laugh. “Should I take it off?” I’m kidding, but after I say it I don’t know if I’m kidding. I have a suit on underneath my shirt. Well, sort of a suit. A sports bra. A smallish sports bra.

  “You first,” he says.

  “No, you,” I say, and I whirl around his back. I tug at the back of his shirt, and just to be stupid I lift it up. He jerks away. “Don’t.”

  Justin’s back is covered with ugly red slats of skin. The scars aren’t new, but they look deep.

  “What happened?” I say, floating back from him.

  He pulls his shirt down. “I did some bronco busting before I knew better.”

  “You got those from getting bucked off a horse?”

  “I got dragged.”

  His face is wrong. I don’t know what my face is doing, but I have to grab a handful of willows because I’m floating away. “What happened?”

  “I got dragged,” he says. “That’s all.”

  I’m not a doctor, but I don’t see how being dragged could make those scars. I feel so messed up I don’t know what I think.

  “God. Don’t be stupid. Have you never seen a cowboy with his shirt off before?”

  I don’t answer. But I see his nose differently now.

  “We’d better get back,” he says. “Scotty’s probably broken both arms trying to show off for Banner.”

  We get out of the water without touching each other.

  * * *

  I walk back to camp with Alice. She talks about looking for frogs with Ethan. It’s like she’s obsessed with frogs. Maybe she and Ethan were looking at more than frogs. All I can think about is Justin’s back. Who does that to a person? What happens to a kid who is treated like that? Could that be from riding a horse? I mean, could it?

  Chapter Forty

  IT’S HOT, REALLY hot, the day of the tryout. It’s hot enough that I expect Coulter will call it off. We’ve all had a full day of work already. It’s not like we couldn’t do it in the morning. I’d be fine with that.

  Instead, every last camper comes to the big arena to see who is the fool who will get to ride Goliath at the auction. Coulter holds out three pieces of straw to his three contestants and lets us draw. Ethan will go first, then Banner, and then me. Which means Goliath will be tired and out of patience by the time he gets to me.

  The tryout is pretty simple. Coulter wants each of us to come in, saddle, and mount Goliath. Then ride him around at all three gaits. And then, if we would like, demonstrate a small trick. Since we haven’t really practiced on him, we just show what we can do with him cold, and then Coulter picks the rider he’ll train with.

  Justin stands nex
t to me hovering. “You ready?”

  “I’m pretty nervous,” I say.

  Justin frowns at me. “Stay off the reins. Keep him focused. Make it about him.”

  Banner is wearing a long-sleeve black shirt with silver snaps. In the heat. She has her hair tied back and makeup on. She looks professional. Ethan and I look like ranch hands. “Good luck, y’all,” she says smoothly.

  I help Ethan get his rope and everything ready to go. Charlie is slapping him on the back making him more nervous. Ethan leans over to me. “Banner looks good, huh.”

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “You’ll be great.”

  “That’s one big horse,” Charlie says, walking away.

  Goliath is antsy the second Ethan takes his lead line. Ethan’s size alone makes him look more like a cowboy than any of the other campers, but Goliath doesn’t buy it. Ethan gets Goliath out into the arena okay, but Goliath strikes out his front hoof when Ethan pulls on the cinch. Ethan freezes.

  Coulter says, “You got it, son, just keep easing him into it.”

  Ethan keeps going slow, and he manages to get on. But he rides Goliath like he’s waiting for an explosion. Everybody else is, too. On the trot Goliath starts dancing sideways. Ethan takes hold of him hard. I don’t like how hard, and neither does Goliath. He flips out his back legs and bucks Ethan to the ground.

  Ethan gets up okay and shakes it off. He didn’t get stepped on or hit or anything. But his ride is over. We give Goliath some water, unsaddle him, and get ready for round two.

  Banner takes ahold of Goliath’s lead rope like she’s having her hand kissed. He backs up on her, and she startles. Good boy, Goliath, I think. Nice instincts. Then instead of cracking him like I’ve seen her do with every horse she’s ridden since she got here, she slows way down. “Come on, sweet boy,” she says.

  Sweet boy? I want to hurl.

  And he totally goes with her.

  She walks out into the center of the arena where the saddle is sitting on a rack. Goliath is calm and attentive. Then she saddles up Goliath flawlessly and swings up. The whole time she’s sweet-talking Goliath and rubbing her painted fingers all over him. Once she’s in the saddle, she walks him an extra long time to warm up. She keeps talking to him and rubbing him. Her legs and posture are perfect. She looks happy and poised. The way I want to look.

  Then she executes her pattern. Like, totally executes it. She moves from walk to trot to canter like a machine. I keep waiting for Goliath to buck in the corner or fight the bit or do something. But he doesn’t. He’s fine. When she’s done, she stops Goliath with one gentle jerk of the bridle, and he stops.

  “Well done,” says Coulter. “What do you have for the grand finale?”

  Banner pats Goliath’s neck and whispers something to him and then jumps off his back by pushing her hands in front of her and throwing herself backward. It happens so fast Goliath doesn’t even kick. She lands on the ground like a gymnast and walks around to grab her reins.

  The bleachers erupt in applause. Like Banner is so great.

  Okay. She is. That was gutsy and brilliant.

  “You’re up,” says Justin. He tries to smile. We both know that Banner just won.

  * * *

  Goliath and I have history. We’ve shared produce and midnight rides together. Unfortunately, that history means he starts off by walking right up behind me, looking for his apple. I’m so nervous I’m going to screw up, I don’t realize what he’s doing until he knocks my hat off and nearly charges over the top of me. Coulter tips his own hat down. “Are you walking that horse, or is he walking you?”

  While I’m picking my hat off the ground, my eyes catch Banner watching me through the gate. Coincidently, as I see her smirk I remember what an inexperienced rider I am. Then I remember that Goliath doesn’t like arena riding. And I don’t like it much either. I breathe as slowly as I can, which isn’t slow. I get the big guy to the tie-up and get him saddled. I talk to him, but I don’t say much.

  Finally, I lift my short legs into the stirrup and shotput myself onto his back. He holds still for me, which is generous on his part. We walk without a problem. We trot. I’m not pretty or smooth like Banner, but I stay upright. I’m feeling like this is going a lot better than it could have. Then I brace myself and ask for the canter. I feel every bit of my breakfast in my throat, but I try to stay calm.

  I finish and stop. As I do, I see Banner staring at me through the fence, still grinning. I have to do something spectacular to finish, or it’s all for nothing. I haven’t ridden well enough to beat her on horsemanship. But doing things gracefully has never been my style anyway.

  Justin carries a wood box from the spook alley out into the center. As he walks past he says, “Give him time to get up there.”

  Of course I will. We can do this. We’re going to do this. I can feel it.

  I scoot Goliath up with a tap-tap of my boots. He tugs backward, and I tap again. He moves away from the wood box. This is not the start I had in mind. He’s supposed to be going the other way.

  “You getting up on that thing or not?” asks Coulter.

  I circle the podium, kicking and prodding impatiently. Then I do it two more times. It’s no use. I’m not a good enough rider to fake my way through this. He just doesn’t want to do it. But I need him to do it. He has to. This is the tryout. I give him one more kick. He bursts away from my feet onto the podium and goes right over the top, bucking but not throwing me off. Finally I get him under control and bring him back to the gate.

  I can’t look at Coulter or Justin.

  I get off Goliath. The best cowgirl won. And Goliath’s her horse to ride now.

  * * *

  My mom and dad call that night. I tell Kaya that I’ll call them back tomorrow. I know Coulter says failure teaches you something. But right now it just feels like it teaches me to fail.

  Chapter Forty-One

  THERE ARE A lot of things I expect the day after I blow the tryout. Like Banner victory dancing until the summer ends. Or Justin not talking to me. Or Coulter and my friends being disappointed in me. Or just a nauseous sadness overtaking me. What I’m not expecting is Banner lying on her sleeping bag silently crying in the middle of the afternoon.

  To be honest, at first I think she’s making fun of me.

  She’s staring up at the tent roof like I’m not there. They look like real tears. But how can you know?

  “Banner?” She doesn’t answer.

  I don’t know what to do, but it seems like I ought to do something. “Banner?”

  When she finally talks, her voice is sharp and weirdly high. “If you try to make me feel better in any way, I will tell Coulter that you are sleeping with Justin.”

  “I’m not sleeping with Justin,” I say.

  She turns her head. “That’s your problem.”

  I start to walk out of the tent out of sheer uncomfortableness, but then I can’t. “Is it your boyfriend?” It hits me that I’ve been watching Banner read her mail from this guy all summer and I’ve never even asked what his name is. “I guess I don’t know his name.”

  She pauses. She reaches for her journal, and I think she’s going to throw it at me. But instead she opens it and pulls out a letter. “Spider. Spider Garcia. And he says he has to think about the consequences of us being together.” She looks up. “Can you believe that? I fall for a guy who has more ink on his body than this stupid journal, who races motorcycles, and now he wants to be responsible. You just can’t trust people.”

  I sit down a few feet away. “So what do you like about him? Other than the ink.”

  Banner sits up all the way and pulls her legs underneath her. “Are you trying to cheer me up?”

  “No,” I say. “Would you rather not talk about him?”

  “I could talk about that idiot all day. That’s the sad part. He’s out of control, like, completely
no fear,” she says, a smile stealing across her face. “He has a perfect butt. And he gets me. At least, I thought he did.”

  “I’m sorry, Banner. Really.”

  “It’s fine. Guys are nothing. Lose one, find another one, right?” She drops back down on her bed and puts her back to me. I pat her on the shoulder as I head back outside.

  I’m not sure what just happened there. But Banner and I were almost friends for five minutes.

  * * *

  Justin and I haven’t talked much since I yanked his shirt up in the stream. I was busy blowing the tryout and all. I know I need to apologize. Not halfway. All the way. I don’t even know what that was on his back. And I had no right to assume or act differently around him because of it. I stole that information.

  I find him picking ingredients for Mrs. Sanchez in the garden.

  “How’s the cilantro?” I ask.

  “You might want to go help with your roan. They’re trying to trim up her muzzle, and she won’t hold still for nothin’.”

  I look at Justin’s arms and shoulders, the way he stands with his feet out. The way he’s leaning forward toward me. I say, “I’m sorry I got into your business in the stream.” And then I do something I feel bad about. I pretend to believe something that I don’t because it’s easier. “I’ve just never seen someone get scratched like that by a horse.”

  He stands up and grimaces. He shakes out the delicate green leaves. “You want to come to my cabin tonight?”

  “Your cabin?” The words just don’t want to come out of my mouth.

  “Is that okay? I want to talk to you.”

  I could point out that we will probably get busted by Darius or Kaya before I even walk in the door. Or that he could talk to me right now, here, in the daylight. Or that it seems like a really, really bad idea for us to be hanging out in his room, considering who my roommate is. Or that I don’t know what he’s really asking me. Instead I say, “I’ll come when I can.”