Before Wings (14 page)

She continued to hear them through flag-raising and her aunt’s Canada Day speech. She joined the staff breakfast
line still trying to shake the wildness that echoed through her. The assistant director was up front, organizing the entry into the dining hall. Fortunately, Aunt Erin had disappeared—Adrien was sure her constant stare would have bored away sections of her aunt’s head.

Darcie stepped out of her position further up the line and walked back to her. “What’s wrong, Grouch?”

Adrien shrugged. Other staff were watching them closely. Darcie hadn’t been seen talking to her since early last week. “Did you clean up the Petting Zoo?”

Darcie nodded. “Should we tell your aunt?”

Adrien shot Connor a glance. He was at the front of the line, joking with other staff. Last night seemed to be forgotten, a trivial event. She thought of what it had meant to her. She had won, really. She had opened cages Connor knew nothing about. “Y’know,” she said slowly, “the whole thing was just
so
stupid.”

“Yeah?” Darcie asked dubiously.

“So act like it,” Adrien shrugged. “If Aunt Erin asks, I was running and I fell on my hand. You bandaged it, right?”

The two girls looked at each other, understanding creeping across Darcie’s face. She glanced at Connor. “He isn’t worth it, is he, Grouch?”

“He ain’t worth half a sneeze.”

Her roommate nodded again. “For the first time this summer, I didn’t crawl out of bed like a slug. And I’m going to sleep all night tonight. Just think of how tomorrow’s going to be.”

“Maybe you’ll even have time to curl that Spartan hair of yours.”

Darcie gave a small shriek and covered her hair with her hands. “I forgot!”

“You missed your face too.”

“My makeup,” whispered Darcie.

Adrien grinned. “Robin Hood would be proud.”

The maintenance crew held a daily 8:30 meeting at the east kitchen entrance. Adrien sat on the steps, watching for Paul’s bike. She was the only staff who didn’t have to be at her post until 9
AM
. Maybe her aunt was going easy on her. Maybe she did give a thought to stressed-out blood vessels. Most of the maintenance crew had assembled and were listening to Guy’s instructions. Paul didn’t actually clean toilets—he was usually repairing something—but he met with the rest of them, and he was usually early. Adrien stood and walked over to the group. “Guy, d’you know where Paul is?”

He gave her a knowing grin. “Miss him already, eh?”

She took a quick breath, trying to beat the flush rising in her face. “I just have to talk to him.”

“Probably on his way,” said Guy. “But get your smooching in quick. We’re driving up to Ranch Camp to stock up supplies.”

Ranch Camp was a program for advanced horseback riders that was located at a separate campsite, a two-hour drive from Camp Lakeshore. Adrien headed for the office and caught the screen door just as it was swinging into place behind her aunt. “When is Paul’s birthday?” she demanded. “Today?”

Aunt Erin gave her a very blue glance. “He’ll tell you if he wants to.”

“You don’t understand.” Adrien’s voice rose in frustration. “I have to know.”

“Boy has a right to keep personal information to himself.” Her aunt picked up the phone.

“I hate you!” Adrien stomped her foot.

“Mentioned that already.” Aunt Erin began dialing. It was an old phone, had probably been sitting on the desk since the ‘70s—a relic from the past, just like her aunt. That cold distant woman sitting in front of her couldn’t possibly connect to the teenager Adrien had just heard, giving those uncontrolled cries of wonder in the woods.

“Your clock stopped again,” Adrien said. “1:37, just like last time.”

Aunt Erin seemed to stop breathing. “First cabin comes by Tuck’n Tack at 9:30,” she said, fixing the clock. “Best be ready.”

Adrien heard the faint whir of a ten-speed. She whirled and ran out, letting the screen door slam. “Paul!” she yelled. He braked, then turned and coasted to a stop in front of her. Beneath the tan, his face was pale. Dark smudges shadowed his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Why’re you late?”

He slumped forward, resting his forehead on the handlebars. “Michelle had to go visit some puppies down the road. I biked her there first.”

She felt stupid with relief and stared at the curl of hair at the nape of his neck. She wanted to touch it, curl it around her finger ... and then she was. Her hand floated strangely through the air, hovered above his neck, then picked up the dark curl and played with it. Sweet heat rushed her
face—she heard soft cries coming from the woods. She let go of Paul’s hair and stood looking at her hand as if it belonged to someone else, someone who could touch those kinds of feelings and hold them close.

He turned his head and rested it on his arms, smiling up at her. She took a deep breath and smiled back. “What’d you dream about?”

His smile vanished. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you have to tell me,” she said. “They’re my dreams too.”

“No, they’re not.” Paul started to turn his bike, but she stepped in front of him, trapping the wheel between her legs.

“If I’m in them,” she said, “they’re mine.”

Reluctantly, he laughed. “You’re as bad as I am.”

She gripped the handlebars with both hands. “I’m not moving until you tell me.”

His eyes were heavy with fatigue. “It was both of us this time.”

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter. The method’s always changing.”

“I want to know.”

Paul’s eyes flinched, then held steady. “We were in a boat with Connor. He tipped it and we were both going down when I woke up.”

“Did Connor?”

“I didn’t notice.”

The office door opened and Aunt Erin stepped out. “Morning, Paul.”

“Sorry I’m late. I had to double-ride Michelle to the neighbor’s.”

Aunt Erin nodded. Paul gave a gentle tug at his bike but Adrien hung on, resisting her aunt’s unspoken order. “Where’s your dirt bike?”

“I don’t take it to work,” he said. “Could get ripped off.” Adrien watched as he rode toward the kitchen, ignoring her aunt’s pointed silence. Finally she turned to see the screen door being held wide open. “Put out extra T-shirts,” said her aunt. “Kids always go for T-shirts on their second day at camp.”

Adrien passed under her aunt’s arm and through the doorway. “It’s a tradition, right?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” said her aunt, coming in behind her.

All morning long, children filed past, pointing to Big Turks or Coffee Crisps, ordering the occasional T-shirt. Cards had been filled out for each camper, listing their spending money. Adrien was kept busy calculating the amount spent, then deducting it from the card. Two or three cabins were scheduled per half hour, so it was steady but not frenetic. Tamai came through at 10:30, a row of seven-year-olds following her like ducklings. The first child was shyly requesting a package of Reese’s Pieces when Connor jogged up and threw out an order for Smarties. The row of ducklings twisted to look at him, wide-eyed.

“Smarties,” Connor said again, stepping forward.

Adrien remembered the little girls touching the Wishing Tree, telling it their secrets. She leaned over the counter and gently tapped the first girl on the top of her head. “I think you
were interrupted,” she said. “Here at Tuck’n Tack, everyone waits their turn. Now, what did you wish to order?”

“Reese’s Pieces,” the girl whispered.

“Reese’s Pieces. My favorite,” said Adrien. “Here you are, one package of Reese’s Pieces.” She looked at the next girl. “And what would you like?”

The girl thought fiercely. “I want an Oh Henry! No, a Smarties, no, a, um, I don’t know what I want. I think maybe a Smar—Ni—Mr.— Oh, I know, a root beer.”

“Thirsty, eh?” said Adrien. She handed the child a root beer.

“I’m in a hurry,” snapped Connor.

“I’m not,” said Adrien. She took extreme care listening to each child’s request, then looked at Tamai. “And what would you like?” The ducklings clustered around their counselor, leaning against her as they carefully unwrapped their treats. Tamai ruffled their hair, one after the other, making sure she touched each one.

“I said I’m in a hurry,” Connor blustered.

“I didn’t hear you, Tamai,” said Adrien.

“I’ve got a class waiting!” said Connor.

“I think,” said Tamai, thinking aloud slowly...very slowly, Adrien noted. “I’ll have a Caramilk. No wait—Nibs.”

“Sure about that?” asked Adrien.

“Yeah, today it’ll be the Nibs.” They gave each other wide-open smiles.

“Now where did those Nibs get to?” Adrien puttered around the display case.

“Here.” Connor stabbed the counter top with his finger.

“What d’you know?” said Adrien. “Right in their cage
where they belong.” She handed the package to Tamai, who gave one last satisfied smile and herded her ducklings away.

“Why is he so mad?” a small voice demanded loudly.

“Oh, he’s just grumpy,” said Tamai. “We’re not grumpy, are we?”

“No,” chorused the ducklings.

Adrien couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. “What can I do for you, Grouch?”

Connor’s face burned a slow red. “Smarties, smart ass.”

“Here you are,” she said brightly. “Have a nice day.” He stepped closer and spoke quickly. “I saw Darcie let you out. You think I really would’ve left you there all night? I was just about to let you out myself when she showed up.”

She watched him fidget nervously with the Smarties package. “You didn’t have the key,” she said. “Darcie had it.”

His eyes flickered. “I would’ve gone and gotten her. That’s just what I was going to do when she showed up and got you out.”

A cabin of boys rounded the corner. Eight-year-olds crowded in around Connor and plastered their faces to the display case. Their counselor paused behind them, glancing from Connor to Adrien.

“Who’s first?” Adrien asked. There was a chorus of “Me, me, me!” Abruptly, Connor jogged off. Adrien felt as if she had been unplugged from an electrical circuit. The relief that flooded her almost dropped her to the floor.

“You all right?” The counselor pushed through the boys and leaned over the counter. “You’re awfully pale.”

She laid her face on the counter and let the dizziness pass. “Yeah, sure. I’m okay.”

The counselor ordered his shoving, yapping group into a line and turned back to her. “I heard about what happened last night. I wasn’t there because I’m a counselor, but I can tell you—most of us don’t like it.”

“You don’t?” Adrien stared.

“No.” The counselor looked around uneasily, as if expecting Connor or Bunter to leap out at him. He wore glasses and looked like the studious type. “Staff are talking. They’re pissed off. The whole thing’s getting out of hand.”

The boy waiting at the head of the line gave the counselor a shove. The counselor shoved him back. “Wait your turn. I’m first. I’ll take an Oh Henry! and a Coke.”

“Stop going to the campfire,” Adrien said as she handed him the candy. “Let Connor sit there by himself.”

“I don’t have to go while I’ve got this rat pack,” said the counselor, “but I rotate to maintenance next week.” He turned and glared at the squirming line of boys. “Would you rodents keep quiet for one second?” The boys made terrified faces and froze, staring at him. The counselor gave a heavy sigh and turned back to her. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “Everyone’s thinking about it, actually.”

It was as if the day changed colors. It had never occurred to Adrien that everyone might secretly be on her side. Slightly stunned, she watched the weary counselor lead his yapping pack toward the mini-golf course. Somehow she had forgotten the most important thing. Staff weren’t robots. Each one had a free-thinking mind, and it looked as if some of them might start using it.

On her fifteen-minute break, she used the office phone to call home and wish her parents a happy Canada Day. Her
mother answered. For some inexplicable reason, Adrien felt as if they hadn’t spoken in years. They talked in rushes, their voices weaving in and out of each other. “I’m okay,” Adrien kept saying. “Everything’s fine, I’m not over-exerting myself. Aunt Erin has me on the easiest schedule of anyone.”

She didn’t know how to get past her mother’s questions to tell her,
Something’s changing, Mom. Something deep and sleepy inside me is starting to wake up.
So she just said, “I fell and cut my hand, but my roommate Darcie fixed it. My roommate’s the archery instructor. She hits a bull’s eye every single time.”

She said good-bye three times before her mother let her go. Then she stood, one hand resting on the phone, letting the latest truth settle in. The phone call had been good. For the first time in two years, she had wanted to talk to her mother. Their voices had merged and run together—she couldn’t remember half of what they had said. What stayed with her was the feel of her mother’s voice, the tone of it—the love her mother felt for her, the love she felt back. At home in Saskatoon, she knew her mother was probably crying with relief. When she finished, she might relax and breathe a little deeper, smile a few times. Perhaps she would even be able to let the day be more than constant worry, the sickening lurch of fear.

Aunt Erin turned from the computer and looked at her. “How’s your mom?”

Adrien had forgotten her aunt was in the office. She stared out the window as hundreds of tiny hooks let go and slipped out of her. How she had worried about her mother.

“She’s good,” she said slowly. “I think she’ll be all right.”

Aunt Erin’s smile changed her whole face. “Glad to hear it,” she said. “Think I’ll ever get my sweatshirt back?”

“Maybe if the Tories get re-elected.”

Aunt Erin grimaced. “She can keep it. Now head on out there, you’ve got kids waiting.”

“Yes, boss,” Adrien said, and stepped out to serve the children.

eleven

As Adrien was closing Tuck’n Tack for lunch, Darcie came by with a large paper bag. “Din-din,” she said, shaking it. “I told the cooks you were helping me fix arrows.”

“And they bought it?”

“Well, you are.” With a menacing look, Darcie picked up the whistle she wore around her neck. Adrien covered her ears and cowered. “Not the whistle, not the whistle.”