Girl on the Run (9 page)

D
evin cornered me in the main hall at lunch.

“J.J.,” he said, pulling me aside, “I want to see you tonight.”

I pictured myself hiding under the covers with the window closed. “Tonight? Isn't it supposed to rain?” I crossed my fingers under my tray of tacos and watermelon slices.

He ran a hand through his hair and grinned. “I don't mind getting wet. Besides, there's this place I want to show you. Secret…you know.”

I tried to open my mouth, but I all could think of was Barney's huge pink tongue mopping the kitchen counter. My stomach flipped. It was time to shut this thing down. “Look, Devin, you're a really nice guy and I'd like to keep things…uh, simple. The truth is I don't want a boyfriend right now.” Or your tongue down my throat.

He tilted his head—I swear just like Barney does when you tell him no more treats. “It's not you,” I said quickly. “It's me. Um…I'm worried about getting fired, and uh, the boys might start pulling pranks on you. And—”

“I'm not looking for a girlfriend,” he interrupted.

Oh.

He stepped closer. “So, if you're not looking for a boyfriend, and I'm not looking for a girlfriend…we can keep meeting at night, right?” He squeezed my shoulder and gave me a wink like we'd officially signed a contract to be friends with benefits. Stunned, I watched him saunter out of the main hall, hands in his pockets. He paused at the doorway for a moment, but instead of turning to see if I was still looking, he fixed his shirt sleeve and did a bicep flex.

“I even suck at breaking up,” I whispered. I took usual my place at our table, across from Scotty. My gaze focused over his shoulder—straight across the room, where Kirk was sitting.

Since the flying eel episode, he'd only said two sentences to me. I guess my soccer shirt wasn't as cute as I thought. Whatever. Who cares?

He caught me staring, but neither one of us looked away. My pulse pounded in my ears. Our eyes locked on each other until one of his buddies punched his arm, getting his attention. He didn't look back after that.

I let out the breath I'd been holding and studied the pattern of watermelon seeds on my plate, trying to slow down my pulse. God! What was his problem? Was it that I almost took him out with a dead fish?

Conversation about the upcoming festivities gave me something to think about besides Kirk and my racing pulse.

I cleared my throat. “Hey, Liam,” I said. “Are you going to be in the talent show tonight?”

He signed back to me.

“Oh, sorry, Duff.”

He gave me an exasperated look.

“Well, you guys are identical,” I reasoned, “with the same hair. Anyway, you could still be in the show.”

Liam said, “It's just going to be a bunch of stupid lip syncing, and bad stand-up comedy.” He nudged Duff and gulped down the last of his chocolate milk.

I noticed Scotty's plate. He'd barely made a dent in his tacos. “What about you?” I asked him.

“Me?” he said. “No thanks.”

I thought his trip in the canoe with the dark-haired cutie would have lightened his mood. “Are you sick too?” I asked.

“No. Um…I'm just waiting.”

I was about to ask him about this when I smelled cinnamon. Lewis arrived with a fresh sticky bun.

I smiled, reaching for the plate. “How did you know they're my favourite?”

Lewis sat in Spencer's vacant spot. “You told me the other night,” he said.

I closed my eyes and inhaled. “Did you put the tiny crushed pistachios in them?”

“Yup, just like your mom does, plus a pinch of cardamom,” he nodded. “Go on, taste it, I'm anxious to get your opinion.”

It was perfect. Gooey and sweet, with the right amount of cinnamon and caramelized brown sugar on the bottom. I cut the bun into equal pieces and gave one to each of the boys.

“Are you sure?” Scotty asked, his eyes looking glassy.

“Good food always tastes better when you share it,” I said.

Mom's mantra.

“Thanks, J.J.,” Duff signed.

The table grew quiet as everyone chewed.

“I thought you might need a treat after you kicked your lover out of bed,” Lewis said. “But really, Jesse, you should know better. Your worlds are too different, you were never meant to be together.”

Scotty turned an interesting shade of green.

“Scotty.” Kirk was standing behind Scotty with a hand on his shoulder. “A word, NOW!” Without looking back, Scotty obeyed and left the main hall with him. The twins exchanged worried looks.

“What's that about?” I asked.

“That's what he was waiting for,” Liam said, licking his fingers.

“Should I go after them?” I asked.

“Trust Kirk,” Lewis said. “He's the head counsellor.”

The whole episode left me feeling suspicious and a bit pissed. Of the four brats in my cabin that needed a lecture from the jerky head counsellor, Scotty was the least deserving.

I was going to follow them anyway, but once I'd left the main hall, Cabin 4A looked a little too quiet. Since I was already feeling suspicious, I checked on Spencer. He was asleep on his bunk. Maybe he was really sick? I left a ham and cheese sandwich and a brownie on the table beside him.

That afternoon, I took the boys to sailing class while I kept one eye glued to Cabin 4A up on the slope. Lacey must have picked up on my paranoia, because she once again offered to take Scotty and the twins to their soccer game against another junior boys' cabin. I figured it was the least she could do, since it was her decision to forgo the nurse and let him lounge away the day.

I hated the smug look on her face when she left with my guys, as if it proved I couldn't handle the job. But I decided to stay back, partly because Spencer was still asleep, but more realistically to make sure he didn't skip out on his sickbed duty.

I was sitting on the porch step with a book when I heard my name. Devin ran up the grassy slope. Oh, crap. It was too late to run into the cabin, he'd already seen me. I was going to have to face this. He walked the last few steps, his wide-open mouth showing all his teeth. Each time I saw Devin, he reminded me more of Barney.

Mouth. Open. Wide.

Where's a PFD when I need one? If I don't make an evasive move soon, I'll be drowning in Devin spittle.
He stopped right in front of me, panting in the hot sun.

“Hey,” I said. “You look overheated. Do need a dish of water? A glass! Do you need a
glass
of water?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, sending bits of sweat through the air. Then he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe off his face. Okay, the view of the six-pack was nice, but seriously, he was showing off. I'd been competing for years alongside guys this ripped. Besides, the effect of his muscles had worn off after my nighttime face cleaning at the Devin Car Wash.

“Listen,” he said, putting his foot on the bottom step. “I checked the forecast and you're wrong.”

“Sorry?”

“There's nothing but a clear sky full of stars. I can show you that secret place tonight.” He swooped in and sat beside me, pressing his sticky thigh against mine. As a former jock, I'm certainly no stranger to sweat. But, ew! Oh god, I wish I had a doggie treat to distract him.

“So?” he prompted giving me a nudge.

The screen door opened and closed. Spencer came out with his hair standing on end, eating the sandwich I'd left for him. Devin turned and nodded to Spencer, then stood up and looked back at me expectantly. “So? Later then?”

I could feel a cool spot on my leg where he must have left a sweat print. Spencer grunted something that sounded like surprise.

Devin waited for my answer and I gave him the only one I could think of. “Later,” I said. I meant goodbye, but it was close enough to get his tail wagging happily. He gave me that wink again then jogged across the lawn toward the main hall.

“What was he doing here?” Spencer asked with a mouth full of food.

“Counsellor stuff,” I mumbled, hiding behind the book.

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.

T
he 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.”