Stealing Third (5 page)

I
wiggle around, loosening Todd’s grip, as I turn to face him. He’s even bigger
than he was last year. His long floppy hair, that he used to swoosh out of his
eyes like Justin Bieber, is now ultra short, spiky and frosted on the tips, and
his tan is so dark orange it looks like he fell into a vat of food coloring.
Uck. What was I thinking?

“Hey,
Todd. How’s it going?” I say, taking a step back, so his hands fall away from
my sides as I try and stifle a laugh—at myself—for having had a crush on him
last summer. Funny how a year can change so much. Well that…and a night like
last night.

“Good.
Good.” He bobs his head on the giant swollen muscle that used to be his neck.
“You know, been working out. Actually placed third in a body building comp a
few weeks ago, so yeah. I’ve been pretty awesome.”

This
time I can’t stop myself. I let out a laugh. “Wow, that does sound awesome.”

“You
know what would be even more awesome?” Todd asks, obviously missing my sarcasm.

I
raise my brows in anticipation of what could be more awesome in Todd’s world.
“What would that be?”

“This!”he
yells, whipping me up and tossing me over his hulking shoulder before running
full speed down the dock.

Kicking
my legs in protest, a whistle blares. “No running!” the lifeguard shouts from
his chair before blowing the whistle again.

I
hammer my fists against his back, but it’s no use, I might as well be pounding
a brick wall. “Todd, put me down.”

“If
you say so,” Todd says, coming to a halt a foot or two away from the edge of
the dock before heaving me into the air. I brace myself for the impact of the
cold lake water but instead feel the hard wooden dock crack against the back of
my head.

And
then nothing.

Sitting
back and scanning the crowd, a girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of
ultra short shorts causes me to do a double take. But just like all the other
times this morning I’ve nearly broken my neck thinking I’ve seen her, I realize
I’m wrong.

No
red tips.

I
shake my head, reminding myself for the hundredth time, unless I feel like
getting my balls put through the automatic pitching machine by Coach, that girl
is strictly off limits. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get her number last
night. No need to be tempted, right?

“Help!”
a girl screams, her voice pulling me from my thoughts and cutting through the
laughter and steady chatter of the kids playing around the small lake. “Help!”

I
jump from the lifeguard tower, grab my rescue tube, and rush to the end of the
dock. A tall blonde is franticly pointing at an unconscious girl, her face
partially submerged in the water, as she’s being dragged to the dock by some
big guy who clearly doesn’t know what in the hell he’s doing.

“I
don’t think she’s breathing!” he yells as I leap into the water and take the
girl from his grip.

Rolling
her over I tuck the U shaped rescue tube under the small of her back to open
her airways. “Are you okay?” I shout, performing the first step to assess her
state of consciousness before shaking her pale, limp limbs gently. “Can you
hear me?”

Shit,
nothing.

I
wrap my arm around her waist, careful to keep her head above water and take two
short strokes to the edge of the dock, where the big guy who had been trying to
rescue her, jumps out of the water and reaches back to help me lift her out.

Laying
her flat, even with her hair splayed across her face, I can see her lips are a
deadly shade of blue, and a watery mix of blood is running down her neck and is
pooling on the dock.

“Call
911,” I bark at the guy as I tilt her head back, jutting her jaw forward, and
putting my ear to her mouth. There’s no breath and her chest isn’t moving, but I
can still feel a faint pulse.

Like
on autopilot—my CPR training kicks in without a thought—I suck in a deep
breath, pinch her nose, and then close my mouth around hers.

Blowing
hard, I push my air into her lungs and watch as her chest rises and falls, but
still she remains unmoving. 

I
take another breath and blow again. Her chest repeats the rise and fall as I
administer two more deep breaths before her body twitches and she finally
regains consciousness, sputtering up lake water.

“Try
not to move,” I instruct as a precaution, in as calm a voice as I can muster,
despite the circumstances. She coughs weakly, but remains lying flat and
relatively still as the sirens blare in the distance. “And don’t worry, help is
on its way.”

Surrounding
us, a small crowd looks on in shock. A few girls stand huddled together crying
while small rivulets of blood continue to run down her neck, chest and arms,
despite no visible source of an injury.

“Did
you see what happened?” I ask the tall blond girl, hoping she saw the accident
so I can relay her account to the paramedics.

“It
all happened so fast. One minute she was goofing around with Todd,” the girl
gestures to the big guy, “and then the next thing I know she’s floating face
down in the water. I think she hit her head, I mean, that’s what it sounded
like, but I’m not sure—” the girl chokes on her words.

That
explains the blood. “How are you doing?” I ask, as I start to run my fingers
through the now-conscious girl’s hair to check for a gash.

“I’m
okay…I think,” she says, barely above a whisper, her voice horse and her breath
shallow. “I’m kind of dizzy.”

“The
paramedics are almost here,” Doc Newton, the camp’s doctor says in a reassuring
voice as he rushes down the dock and then kneels next me. I’m not sure if it’s
meant for me or her, but either way it helps. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Um…I
don’t really remember.” She tries to sit up, panicked, but Doc gently guides
her back down.

“Shhhh,
it’s okay, take a deep breath,” Doc says in the same calm way he talks to us
out on the field. He pulls his pen light from his front shirt pocket and turns
to me. “Ford?”

“Ah…let’s
see…um…” I stutter. My adrenaline finally catches up with me, making it hard to
wrap my mind around the last few minutes, let alone to recap it in a cohesive
way.

I
pull in a deep breath, and let my nerves settle. This is what I’m here for.

“She
was unresponsive when I pulled her from the water. I assessed she was not
breathing, but still had a pulse, so I administered rescue breaths until she
regained consciousness.” I rub the back of my neck. What else? “Oh, a witness
thinks she may have hit her head. I did detect bleeding but was unable to find
the source.”

Doc
nods, giving me a firm pat on the back.

“Sweetie,
my name is Doctor Newton. You’ve been in a small accident, so I’m going to need
to ask you a few questions, okay? Can you tell me your name?” he asks, brushing
the wet matted hair from her face.

 Her
eyes lock with mine. “Hottie Mchottieface?” she murmurs, before passing out
cold.

…

As
the paramedics approach, crash bag in hand, I stumble out of their way.
Although—I might be the one who needs a defibrillator—since my heart just
stopped. Laying on the dock is Emily.

Amazing
kisser, Emily. Coach’s kid, Emily.

I
shake my head. What the hell? Emily?

Still
in shock, I get swallowed up by the growing crowd of onlookers who are
snickering at Emily’s response to Doc. Hottie Mchottieface? She really must
have hit her head. Hard.

“Miss?”
a paramedic asks, wrapping an arm band around Emily’s thin bicep and pumping
the hand held valve to inflate the cuff and measure her blood pressure. “One
fifty over a hundred,” he calls to another paramedic. I flinch. That’s pretty
high. “Miss, can you hear me?”  the EMT asks again, waving a small tube of
smelling salts under her nose, to arouse her back into consciousness.

Her
long, dark lashes flutter as she slowly opens her eyes, a look of confusion
washing over her face when the paramedic shines a penlight into her eyes. “Can
you tell me your name?”

“Um…It’s
Emily…Emily Evers.” 

The
paramedic examines Emily’s neck and extremities before helping her into a
sitting position. “Miss, do you know where you are?”

Emily’s
eyes roam the crowd, and then freeze when they settle on me. “In hell?”

The
crowd laughs at Emily’s assessment of her current whereabouts, the paramedic,
not so much. “Miss?”

She
glances around at the lake and then back at the EMT. “Camp.”

“Very
good. Are you experiencing any unusual pain or dizziness?”

Emily
nods. “Yeah, my head is killing me.” She lifts her hand to the back of her head
as she looks down at her once white bathing suit now tinged a reddish-pink with
blood. “I’m bleeding?”  she says, looking like she might pass out again as she
whips her head up and winces in pain.

“Oxygen,
please,” the paramedic requests as he begins to probe her head, searching for a
cut, just like I did.

“It’s
okay. Take a few deep breaths,” the other paramedic says, slipping the oxygen
mask over Emily’s mouth and nose, blood splattering him as he adjusts her hair
to better secure the mask’s elastic loops over her ears.

That’s
it.

“It’s
her hair,” I blurt out so loud that Emily, Doc, and both paramedics look up at
me in confusion before understanding washes over Emily’s face. Her cheeks flush
as red as the dye dripping off the ends of her hair and running down her bare
arms.

“I’m
sorry?” Doc asks glancing between Emily and me.

Emily
pulls the oxygen mask down so she can answer, no longer hyperventilating.
“Tyler’s right, I’m not bleeding, it’s just hair dye that washes out
gradually.”

“But
how did Mr. Ford…” Doc begins, and then just like Emily, understanding dawns on
him. “Of course. You and Tyler must know each other through your dad.”

Emily’s
eyes dart to mine as she bites down on her lip. “Ummm…” she murmurs, stalling.
I assume to gauge whether I know what in the hell Doc is talking about.

I
do.

I
cross my arms, still mad she didn’t divulge that
small
detail before we
were busy trying to rip each other’s clothes off last night.

“That’s
right,” I say to Doc, but I narrow my eyes at her. “Emily and I go way back.”

“Oh,
that’s great.” Doc stands, brushing off his khakis. “Seeing as Miss Evers here
has endured a minor concussion, she’ll need to be awoken every hour throughout
the night, and now I can rest assured she will get the utmost care from you.”

“From
me?” I balk, at the same time as Emily croaks, “From him?” Our simultaneous
questions cause Doc’s eyebrows to crease.

“That
won’t be a problem, will it?” Doc Newton’s voice takes on a more professional
note, reminding me for the summer he is no longer the team doctor, but he is
technically my boss when the opportunity allows for me to shadow him.

“Ah,
no, sir, it’s no problem. I’ll be happy to monitor Miss Evers’s symptoms
overnight,” I say, giving him my most confident smile, even though the only
thing I’m confident of is how hard it’s going to be to keep my hands off of
her. “No problem at all.”

Yeah,
right.

Worst.
Dream. Ever.

I
roll over in bed and my head pounds harder than the bass at last night’s party.
I swear I didn’t drink
that
much. Did I?

If
the throbbing in my skull is any indication, I totally did. Although—if waking
up feeling this bad is a prerequisite for feeling as good as Hottie Mchottieface,
Tyler Ford, made me feel last night—than I’d totally do it again, and again,
and again, and again. Hangover be damned.

I
try to peel my eyes open, but it’s no use, so I give up and snuggle deeper into
the covers, the light scent of peppermint mixed with glove oil and leather
assaults my senses. Just like in my dream when Tyler rescued me from drowning.

Wait.
Why do my covers smell like glove oil and leather?

My
eyes have no problem flying open this time, expecting my fluffy pink comforter
and the warm rays of sunlight peeking through the windows next to my bed, but
instead, it takes a moment for them to adjust to the dark room that’s cold,
white, and sterile…and definitely not mine.

I
toss back the covers and sit up, causing the steady throbbing in my head to
feel more like a jackhammer breaking through a thick slab of concrete. Exactly
like the ones Kat and I saw construction workers on the highway using on our
way here. To camp. Yesterday. Oh, shit.

So.
Not. A. Dream.

Dropping
my head in my hands and moaning in pain, a wave of nausea hits me. Great. The
only way to top off this awesome day would be a little vomit.

I
lift my head in search of a garbage pail, just in case I really do have to
hurl, and find it quickly—and in use. By Tyler. Asleep in the chair next to my
bed, with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his feet propped up
on the trashcan. And looking amazing.

I
suck in a breath, letting the events of yesterday hit me as hard as I hit my
head. Lucy’s not my counselor. Jenny Osborne is. Todd-the-bod nearly killed me.
And Tyler Ford is here. At camp.

I
drop back into my pillow, the palms of my hands covering my eyes, and regret it
immediately when pain sears my skull.

“Ouch,”
I cry out, sitting back up and finding a knot—the size of a goose-egg—on the
back of my head.

Tyler
shoots from his chair. “Are you all right?” he asks, surprisingly alert for
having just woken up so abruptly. “Can I get you something?”

A
new life, maybe? Because this one is sucking so bad right now.

“No,
I’m fine. Just accidently touched the knot on the back of my head. I didn’t
mean to wake you.”

Tyler
checks his wrist watch, before running his hands down his face, yawning. “It’s
okay. I was scheduled to wake you up in ten minutes anyway.” Reaching across
the counter, crowded by glass jars of cotton balls, tongue depressors and
lollipops, Tyler grabs a clipboard. He glances at his watch again, jots down a
note, and then picks up a small white tube that kind of looks like a pen but is
thicker.

“Can
you tell me your name?” he asks, reaching out and gently holding open my eye as
he flashes a small light from the pen looking thingy into it, before repeating
the action in the other eye as well.

My
name? Seriously?

“Way
to make a girl feel special,” I huff, standing up, feeling both dizzy and like
a total looser. Although, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised he doesn’t remember my
name since I’m sure I was just another hook up for him. But still. Ouch.

Tyler
makes another quick note and then sets the clipboard aside with a chuckle. “You
know, you have been one interesting patient,
Emily
.” Tyler guides me
back down to the bed, and I feel my face flush with heat. He does know my name.
And now he knows I care.

“What
do you mean by that?” I ask, pulling my arms into the sleeves of the red hooded
sweatshirt I’m wearing, which is at least three sizes too big for me and smells
just like Tyler.

I
glance down at the sweat pants, which again, are too big to be mine and see the
drawstring, pulled tight, is the only thing keeping them around my hips. “But
how did I—” I pull open the neck of the oversized sweatshirt and peer inside.
“Did you…dress me?”

With
wide eyes, I search the room and find my bathing suit lying in a heap on the
linoleum floor. I cringe at the thought of Tyler having to dress me. So the
opposite of the way we were undressing each other a night ago—or the way I
imagined Tyler Ford seeing me naked for the first time. Ugh.

“I…I
didn’t dress you,” Tyler stammers, trying not to focus on me still holding the
top of the sweatshirt open, but failing. “You were cold, so I got you some of
my clothes and you dressed yourself. I swear.”

Relieved,
I drop the neckline and tuck my feet back under the covers as a foggy memory of
me changing sweeps through my mind.

Narrowing
my eyes, I smile. “You peeked.”

“What?”
Tyler asks, half like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about, and half like he
knows exactly what I’m talking about. “See what I mean? You have been quite the
patient tonight. I think your concussion is making you imagine things.”

“If
you say so, Slugger,” I tease, lifting my eyebrows knowingly at Tyler, which he
returns with a panty dropping smirk.

That
is—if I was wearing any.

…

Yawning
from being woken up a million times to play a hundred and one questions with
Tyler while he flashed a bright light in my pupils, I can barely keep my eyes
open. Can you tell me your name? Do you know where you are? Do you want to
makeout? No. No, that one was definitely in my dreams. Literally.

“All
right, Miss Evers,” Doctor Newton says, wrapping his stethoscope around his
neck and pulling me out of my thoughts. “You are clear to head back to your
cabin, but I’d like you to refrain from any activities today. So please, take
the day and rest—Doctor’s orders.”

“I
will,” I say, yawning again. “Thank you.”

“Don’t
thank me, thank Tyler here.” Doctor Newton smiles before turning his attention
to Tyler. “You did a great job yesterday by the way. So unless you want to earn
brownie points, you are free and clear for the week since you managed to incur
an entire week’s worth of job shadow hours last night.

“Not
to mention a lengthy write up for your med school applications detailing your
astute actions in regards to Miss Ever’s accident yesterday. I’m quite proud of
you.”

Tyler
nods. “Thanks, Doc. Or I mean, Doctor Newton,” he corrects, trying to sound
more professional, I assume.

“Doc
is fine, Tyler. We’re at camp, not a hospital board meeting. And speaking of
meetings,” Doctor Newton checks his watch, “I have to go meet with Gale and
Walter. They want an update on Emily and the middle-schooler who got poison oak
yesterday.”

“Ouch.”
I wince remembering the first time I got it from playing in the woods between
the middle school cabins and the horse stables. It’s practically a rite of
passage for the sixth graders who don’t know any better yet. Or do know better,
and make a game out of running through it anyway.

“So,
I guess you can run along, Tyler, and Miss Evers, you can use my office phone
to call your parents and let them know how you’re doing. I know Gale has spoken
to them several times and promised she would bend the rules and let you make
one quick call, considering the circumstances.”

Tyler
gives me a small smile before following Doctor Newton out of the room and
leaving me in the office alone. I contemplate using the phone to call Kat
because she is seriously not going to believe the last twenty-four hours, but I
know Mom is probably freaking out by the second.

The
phone only rings once before she picks up. “Emily? Honey? Are you okay?”

I
can hear the panic in her voice and I rush to reassure her I’m fine. “Mom, I’m
fine. I promise. It was just a stupid little accident.”

“Stupid
accident? They said you had to be resuscitated, Emily! That does not sound
little or stupid to me.” Mom’s voice breaks, and it sounds like she’s on the
verge of tears. “This is all my fault.” She sniffles. “I made you go, and look
what happened, if it were up to me, I’d let you come home right now.”

“Pamela,”
Dad says in the background, his tone stern. “You heard Gale. Emily is fine.”

Mom
covers the receiver with her hand, but it’s no use, I can hear her clear as
day. “The only thing you care about is how much money we’re going to lose if we
pull her out and let her come home.”

“What
about honoring her commitments?” Dad throws Mom’s own argument back at her.
“Pamela, she’s fine and we have some pretty serious matters of our own to
figure out right now.”

No.
No. No. No. No. No. No.

This
is exactly what I was afraid of. They haven’t been alone for twenty-four whole
hours and they’re already fighting about ‘serious matters.’ Serious matters?
Like how to break the news they’re getting a divorce?

My
heart starts to hammer. I have got to get out of here. At this rate, they’ll
never survive the summer. “Mom, it’s fine. I’m fine. I promise.”

Mom
takes a long pause before sighing. “If you promise.”

“I
promise,” I offer before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone.

I
promise to figure out a way to get the hell out of here.

…

“Omg,
Em,” Jenny coos when I walk back into the cabin, still wearing Tyler’s
oversized sweats and sweatshirt. “You look awful.” She wraps her arm around my
shoulder and guides me to my bunk. “How do you feel, sweetie?” she asks like
she’s speaking to a three year old, and it takes everything in me to keep from
rolling my eyes at her Mother Teresa act. It kind of loses its effect when she
straight up tells me how bad I look before asking me how I am. Nice.

“I’m
good.” I slump down on my bed, my body sore, and the worry about how to get
home weighing down on me. “But Doc says I need to take it easy today.”

“That’s
too bad, we were planning on going inner-tubing later this afternoon when
everyone gets back from morning activities, but I guess you should probably
stay away from the lake. We wouldn’t want you to…” she trails off, like nearly
drowning was my fault. No, I can thank Todd-the-bod for that one.

This
time I can’t help it. I roll my eyes. “Yeah, too bad.”

“Well,
if you need anything, you know where we’ll be.” Jenny grabs her beach bag,
pulls out a large white binder and plops it at the foot of my bed. “And at
least you’ll have plenty of time to read up on the rules, Junior Counselor.
Remember, no counselor campfires or extended curfew until you pass the quiz.”

The
rules test. I’d almost forgot. “Thanks.”

Smiling,
she drops her sunglasses over her eyes. “You bet. See ya, sweets,” she says,
blowing a fake kiss in my direction before rushing out of the cabin and leaving
me alone, which I’m thankful for.

I
prop up my pillow and pull the binder into my lap. I might as well study since
I have nothing better to do until I can figure a way out of here.

Two
hours later, as I near the end of the rules and regulation binder, I’m pretty
sure my eyes blurring is a side effect from the concussion, and I’m also pretty
sure Jenny just gave me a fool proof exit plan out of camp.

Three
strikes you’re out.

Now
all I need to do is figure out which rule to break first.

I
need to write Kat.