In Too Deep (2 page)

Beej rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing?” I said to Nick.

“Giving Beej the short course.”

“The short course on what?”

“The care and feeding of Orion,” Beej said. “As if I've never looked after him before. I know what to do, Nick. It's not exactly rocket science.”

“How come Beej is looking after Orion?” I said. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Nick said. “It just came up. I was going to tell you.”

I didn't like the sound of that. Nick had disappeared once before. He'd taken off without telling me—or anyone else, except for Beej—where he was going. I waited for an explanation.

“You're leaving in a couple of days for the whole summer,” he said. “School's finished. I need a break. I thought I'd go up north for a while.”

“Up north where?”

“We thought we'd do some hiking, some camping.”

“We?”

“Me and a guy I know.”

“What guy?”

“I thought leashes were for dogs,” Beej said to Nick. “Does she always quiz you like this?”

I glowered at her.

“Just a guy,” he said. “You don't know him. I met him at the group home.”

All the guys Nick had met at the group home had been in trouble with the law.

“Don't give me that look, Robyn,” he said. “He's an okay guy. He's not into anything.”

“Except camping,” I said. “Since when do you ever go camping?”

“Just because you've never seen me pitch a tent, doesn't mean I don't know how,” Nick said. “I've been camping before.”

“How long are you going to be gone?”

Beej shook her head. Nick ignored her.

“I don't know how long,” he said. “We're gonna see how it goes. If we can find jobs, we might be away until fall. Come on, Robyn. I didn't give you a hard time when you told me you were going to be working at that camp all summer.”

“I applied for that job ages ago,” I said. “Before you and I got back together. And anyway, I thought you'd be able to come up on visiting days.”

“I don't want to spend the whole summer in the city alone, Robyn.”

“Will I be able to get in touch with you?”

“Not while I'm camping,” Nick said. He didn't have a cell phone. “But whenever we get near a phone, I'll call. I promise.”

“I won't always be able to answer,” I said.

“I'll keep trying until I get you.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? When were you planning to tell me?”

“As soon as I finished telling Beej everything she needs to know.” He pulled me closer and kissed me on the cheek.

“Beej already knows everything she needs to know, especially now that Beej has this,” Beej said, holding up several sheets of paper covered with Nick's handwriting. “Beej is getting out of here. No offense, but you guys are too much.” She handed Orion's leash back to Nick. “I'll pick him up in the morning.” She gave the dog a final scratch behind the ear, then took off.

“I'm going to miss you,” I said, happy that I could snuggle up against him without Beej making faces.

“I'm going to miss you, too,” Nick said.

I stayed at my dad's place that night so that I could go with Nick to the bus station the next morning. He was taking the bus north to where he would meet up with his friend. I eyed the large duffle bag he was carrying.

“You sure you have everything you need?”

“Yup.”

“Sleeping bag?”

“In here.” He patted the duffle bag. “And your dad lent me a pup tent.”

“Where is it?”

“In here.” When I looked skeptical, he added, “It folds down to nothing. And I'm an excellent packer.”

We hugged in the bus bay, breathing in bus fumes, and Nick promised to call me the first chance he got. He held me until the bus driver announced “All aboard” for the third time. Then he found a seat by the window and waved at me until the bus was out of sight. He was right. I was going to be away anyway. And if anyone deserved a little fun, it was Nick. He worked hard. He had to. He lived on his own. He had to work full-time while he went to school. He was always on the go, always had too many things to do. A couple of weeks out of town would do him good. And if he could find a job up there and make some money, even better.

  .    .    .

“I miss Nick already,” I said the next morning when I went into my father's kitchen to see what there was for breakfast.

My dad glanced up from the newspaper he had been reading.

“You know how I sometimes say that timing is everything?” he said.

“Yeah.” I hunted around the fridge until I found a container of yogurt.

“Well, it really is, Robbie.”

I perched on a stool beside my dad. “What are you talking about, Dad?”

“First Morgan breaks her ankle and can't go to camp, and the same day Billy announces that he's taken a camp job and now he's going to be away all summer while Morgan is stuck here in town.”

I frowned. “First?” That didn't sound good.

My dad turned the newspaper around so that I could get a good look at the page he was reading—and at the picture on the page.

“Is that what I think it is?” I said.

“'Fraid so, Robbie.”

I stared at the picture, scanned the article beside it, and groaned. Camp Spirit had burned to the ground the previous night, the fire blamed on a lightning strike. Now I was stuck in the city all summer too—without Nick.

My dad's buzzer sounded.

“I'll get it,” I said. I went to the door, pressed the button on the wall beside it, and said hello.

“It's Beej,” a voice said. “It says on Nick's list that I'm supposed to give Orion some special vitamins three times a week, but Nick forgot to give them to me.”

“Didn't he give you a key to his place?”

“Do you think I'd be talking to you now if he had?”

I pictured her doing her too-familiar eye-roll.

“Meet me on the second floor,” I said. I buzzed her in through the main-floor door.

My dad was already hooking a key off a key ring that hung in his kitchen. He had copies of the keys for each of the apartments on the second floor.

I went downstairs and opened Nick's door for Beej. She rummaged through his kitchen cupboards until she found what she was looking for. It was only when she was on her way back to the door that she noticed what I was staring at.

“I thought he went camping,” she said, a puzzled expression on her face.

“That's what he said.”

“So how come he left his sleeping bag and his tent here?”

The same question was flashing in my mind. So were a couple of others, like, what was in the bag he'd loaded onto the bus? If he wasn't going camping, where was he going?

Why had he lied to me—again?

“I

t's probably not what you think,” Morgan said when I called her.

“You mean, he probably wasn't lying to me when he said he was going camping, even though he left his camping equipment behind in his apartment?”

“You don't have to bite my head off, Robyn. I'm just trying to make you feel better.”

“Nick lied to me. He lied to my dad. I have no idea where he is. I can't contact him. I have no idea what he's even up to. What could you possibly say to make me feel better?”

“Maybe he forgot his stuff,” Morgan said.

“Right.”

Her voice brightened. “Hey, I know something that might cheer you up.”

“Unless it involves getting hold of Nick this second and getting an explanation—”

“It involves you and me relaxing on the Point for the summer.”

She meant the point of land that jutted out into an enormous sapphire-blue lake. The Point on which, way back when, Morgan's grandparents had built a summerhouse. Morgan had spent most of her summers on the Point. I'd spent a lot of time there too.

“I can't,” I said. “I have to get a job.”

“You don't have to,” Morgan said. “It's not like you need the money. Your parents both have great jobs. You could take one more summer off. Come on, Robyn. I'm gonna go crazy if I have to stay in the city all summer, and my parents won't let me go up north by myself, especially with a broken ankle. Besides, it wouldn't be any fun if I was up there all by my lonesome. But if you came with me ... Please?”

“I'm going to be seventeen soon,” I said. “And I've never had a real job.”

“So?”

“So, it's time.”

The truth was, I felt self-conscious about the fact that I didn't have to worry about money, while Nick had to work every spare minute to keep a roof over his head. He didn't have a phone. I did. He had to budget to be able to afford a new pair of jeans. I had a clothing allowance. When we went to the movies or for coffee and I offered to treat, he usually looked embarrassed. But he let me sometimes because he couldn't always afford to pay.

“I have to find a job, Morgan. If you don't go up north, we can hang out together in the evenings and on weekends.”

  .    .    .

My phone trilled the next day. I checked the display, hoping to see
Unknown name
. It would mean that Nick was calling me. Instead, I saw a name—Anthony Turner. Morgan's father.

“Robyn, hello,” Dr. Turner boomed. “Morgan told me about your little problem.”

Little problem? What had Morgan said?

“I think I might be able to help you out,” he said. “If you're interested, that is.”

“Um, interested in what, Dr. Turner?”

“A job. Morgan said you were determined to find a job this summer. And now that that camp has burned down ... I know quite a few people up north. I've spent more summers up there than I can remember. Even worked up there a few summers myself. So—I hope you don't mind—when Morgan explained your predicament, I made a few phone calls.”

“You didn't have to do that,” I said. “I've got a lot of feelers out.” The day before, I had sent out résumés to more than a dozen different places. I had also visited every mall in the area to fill out applications. But so far ...

“As a matter of fact, I did,” he said with a laugh. “You know Morgan. She can be persistent. I spoke with an old friend on your behalf. He publishes a couple of community newspapers up in cabin country. He had a student lined up to work for him this summer, but at the last minute the kid apparently got a better offer. I mentioned that I know a bright young woman who's in the market for summer employment. He's looking for someone who can write up ads, send invoices, do proofreading, things like that. It's pretty basic office stuff, Robyn, strictly entry-level. But if you're interested, he'd like to talk to you.”

“Really?”

“Got a pencil handy?”

I scrambled for one and wrote down the name and number he gave me. “He's a great guy, and he'll be expecting your call.”

I could have hugged him.

“Thanks, Dr. Turner.”

“All I did was mention your name. Check it out. See what you think. Doug's a great guy.”

  .    .    .

I got the job!

My dad congratulated me. Dr. Turner said he knew I was a shoo-in. My mom's fiancé, Ted, said he was thrilled for me. Morgan squealed with delight. My mother said, “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” I'd said. “I already said I'd take the job.”

“Well, now you're going to have to say that you can't,” my mom had said, which was why my dad and I were on our way to her house together to discuss the matter.

Ted answered the doorbell.

“How's the packing going?” I asked him.

He and my mom were about to leave for a month-long vacation.

“I'm all set,” he said. “But I think your mother's preparations are going to go down to the wire.” If I knew my mom, she was packing and repacking her suitcase. She tended to pack on a you-never-know basis. In other words, she packed a lot of things just in case she might need them, then took them out again because maybe she wouldn't need them after all, and then repacked them because, well, you never know.

He opened the door wide to let us in. Sure enough, we found my mom in front of a suitcase that lay open on the dining room table, surrounded by stacks of neatly folded clothes. She was staring at them in exasperation but smiled when I entered the room. Her smile faded as soon as she saw my father.

“Mac, what are you doing here?” she said.

“Patti.” My father grinned at her. “You look marvelous.”

My mom shot me a disapproving look. The rule, since my parents had separated and ultimately divorced, was that my dad was allowed in my mom's house only if she personally invited him, which she never did.

“I asked Dad to come,” I said. “About my job ...”

“I thought we already agreed that you weren't going to take that job,” my mom said.