Two girls from Jessica's cabin found her in the midst of her furious dance and ventured carefully toward her. “Can we have your orange strip?” they asked cautiously.
“Come and get it,” Christy said, still shaking and stamping her feet. Dozens of red ants fell to the ground. But it wasn't enough.
One of the girls timidly drew near and snatched the end of the orange cloth. As she pulled it from Christy's waist, another dozen ants emerged and raced down the cloth and up the girl's hand.
Now she too was screaming and shaking, doing the Christy ant-dance.
“What are you two doing?” the other girl asked. “I'm taking this back to the other side!” She grabbed the orange cloth, shook it out, and took off running.
“You're supposed to get in your canoe and beat her back,” the girl explained.
“I can't,” Christy wailed. “I still have ants in my pants!”
“Maybe if you run to the canoe, they'll fall out, and then if there are any left, you can sit on them and squish them all.”
Christy was close to tears. “They sting. My legs feel like they're on fire!”
“Then jump in the water,” the girl suggested. “Look, they bit me too.” She held out her hand, revealing a baker's dozen red spots.
“This is awful!” Christy cried. “Are you okay?”
“I'm going to go to the nurse.”
“Good idea.” Christy slapped herself on the legs as she raced to the canoe. Then, because the cool lake water seemed like the only thing that could possibly stop the stinging, she jumped in and came up soaking.
“Christy!” Jaeson called out as he ran up and pushed off the canoe next to hers. “What are you doing? Get in your canoe! Come on! I'll push you off. We can paddle together.”
In spite of her misery, she jumped into her canoe and let Jaeson push her off, knowing she had no time to explain. With quivering arms, she numbly followed Jaeson's shouted-out instructions.
“Paddle left. Paddle right. Come on, Christy, faster!”
Her hair was dripping in her face, and her legs were shivering and burning at the same time. She glanced at her arms and saw the red marks beginning to swell.
“Paddle left. Paddle right. Faster!”
“I can't keep up!” she cried out to Jaeson. “You go ahead.”
Jaeson pulled out in front of her, and with a quick thumbs-up, his strong arms shot his canoe through the water like a well-aimed arrow. He made it to shore and planted his flag before his runner arrived. Since he was the first counselor back and most of the campers were still on the other side, it seemed a hollow victory with so few to cheer for him.
Christy paddled slowly but steadily, trying with all her might to ignore the increasingly painful stinging in her arms and legs. She still was a ways from shore when her arms gave out. “Come on, Christy,” Jaeson called. “You can do it! Paddle left. Paddle right.”
She tried, but it seemed pointless. Her chest was heaving from being so winded, and her head began to throb. The breeze nudged her a few feet closer to shore as she tried to catch her breath.
“Come on, Christy,” Jaeson called again. 'Your runner is almost here! Only a few more paddles.”
Christy stroked three times on each side of the canoe and seemed to drift backward rather than forward. She looked to the shore and saw Jaeson waving his arms and coaching her to give it full steam.
Just then the girl with Christy's orange strip in her hand shot through the woods and crumpled on the gravel as she plunged her strip of fabric into the hole meant for Christy's flag. The score was now counselors one, campers one.
Hanging her head, Christy realized how dizzy she felt. Hearing a splash in the water, she looked up and saw Jaeson swimming out to her canoe. He took hold of the rope in the front and towed her the twenty feet to shore.
“I'm sorry,” Christy apologized, reaching for Jaeson's hand to help her out.
“Christy, what happened? You're covered with red spots!”
“Ants,” she breathed out, feeling completely exhausted. Her soggy tennis shoes slipped on the gravel, and Jaeson caught her just before she fell.
“You're going to the nurse,” he said. “Put your arm around my shoulder. I'll help you walk to camp.”
“Are you okay?” Dean Ferrill asked when he came over and saw Christy's polka-dotted skin.
“I'll take her to the nurse,” Jaeson offered. “Cheer the rest of the counselors in for us, okay?”
Limping and leaning against Jaeson for support, Christy felt ridiculous to have been defeated by a bunch of stupid ants. She said nothing all the way to the infirmary. Jaeson talked the whole time about other mishaps he had seen at camp over the years, everything from broken collarbones to split lips. Somehow nothing he said made her feel better.
“Red ants,” Jaeson told the nurse when she opened her door. The nurse took a quick look at Christy's arms and said, “Oh my, this doesn't look good.”
“Wait till you see this.” Christy exposed the back of her raw legs to the nurse.
“Oh, my gracious! What did you do, girl, sit on their convention center?”
“I think so.” Christy tried hard to smile but without much success.
“I'll check on you later,” Jaeson promised and left Christy in the hands of the sympathetic nurse.
“Let's get you in the tub and make sure all those critters are off you,” the nurse said. “I hope you didn't have any special plans for the evening, because I'm afraid you're not going anywhere for a while.”
A few minutes later Christy lowered herself into the lukewarm tub, anticipating a soothing sensation. Instead, the water felt like a thousand needles were plunged into her flesh. She itched like crazy.
“Whatever you do,” the nurse called to her through the closed door, “don't scratch. I've put something in the water to draw out the poison. If you scratch, you'll only spread it.”
The camper from the woods with the ant bites on her hand had arrived, and the nurse was checking her hand as Christy soaked.
“I hope you know,” Christy called back, “that this is about the worst torture a person could ever go through.”
“I know. I'm sorry. But it will help. Trust me.”
At that uncomfortable moment, Christy knew she had no other choice.
and putting on some clean clothes, Christy lay on her stomach on the infirmary cot so the nurse could smear her spotted legs with a cold, gooey lotion. She wanted to cry. This had to be one of her life's all-time worst experiences.
Covering Christy with a sheet, the nurse instructed, “Don't move. Stay on your stomach, and try to get some rest.
It's funny, but I never thought much about wanting to sleep on my side or my back until she told me I could only lie on my stomach.
Christy wiggled and clenched her teeth. How could she rest? The lotion stung almost as bad as the ant bites.
“How's the patient?” Dean Ferrill's voice called from the front door.
“Trying to rest. She was attacked pretty severely,” the nurse said. “You can go on in and see her if you like.”
The dean had to walk all the way around to the front of Christy's cot and squat down on one knee so he could look her in the face.
“You okay?” he asked with such a tender tone that Christy couldn't hold back the tears.
“I'm fine,” her voice said, but her tears told him differently.
She blinked, trying to stop from crying. Then she realized she couldn't use her hands to wipe the tears from her face because the pink lotion would get in her eyes.
“Here.” Dean Ferrill recognized her dilemma and reached for a tissue. He wiped her eyes for her. “You're going to be fine in a day or two.”
“Who won?” Christy asked.
“The campers won this year. They're pretty happy about it too.”
“It's because of me, isn't it?” Christy said.
“No, don't think that. You did a great job. You gave it all you had. I'm proud of you.”
&
nbsp; Christy rested her pink hands under her chin on the pillow. “At least I don't have to serve tables tonight.”
The dean smiled at her joke. “So that was your motive for sitting on the world's largest ant farm?”
“There must be easier ways,” Christy said, feeling a little better.
“Actually, you've been working hard serving your campers all week, and I think you've done a terrific job. I'd love to have you as a counselor anytime.”
“I don't feel I accomplished anything spiritually with the girls. I tried talking to them about their relationship with God, and I even sat down with some of them one-on-one. Either they said they were already Christians, or they didn't want to give their hearts to the Lord, or they just didn't get it.”
The dean's face took on another one of his understanding expressions. “Christy, you've done your part. You've told them how to receive eternal life. How much they ' understand is up to God. And how they respond is up to them, not you.”
“But none of them responded. At all.”
“You don't know what's going on in their hearts. We've planted lots of seeds in these kids this week. Some of them might sprout a week from now, some ten years from now. That's God's business.”
“I just wish I could do more,” Christy said with a sigh.
“You can. You can pray. Always pray. Actually, it looks to me as though you're in a pretty good position to pray for us during the rest of the evening.”
Christy wished she could see her. “infirmity” with as much of a spiritual reason as Dean Ferrill did. After he left she thought about how he might be right. She couldn't do anything else tonight. She couldn't serve tables at dinner or practice with the counselors for their closing night skit. She couldn't even have her final night of devotions with her girls. The camp secretary was going to stay in Christy's cabin that night so she could remain in the infirmary. About the only thing she could do was pray.
Wiggling her still-stinging legs under the rough sheet, Christy tried to find a comfortable spot for her head on the pillow and began by praying for Jaeson and the other counselors. She prayed for her girls, all the other girl campers, and then all the boy campers. She prayed for the kitchen staff, office staff, leaders, and bus drivers. It didn't seem she had left out anyone except maybe herself.
She wasn't sure what to pray for herself. A quick recovery? For the sting to go away? Death to all red ants on planet Earth?
“Can she have visitors?” Christy heard Jaeson asking the nurse.
“Sure, go on in. She can't move, so why don't you take this stool. You can sit by the head of the cot.”
Christy tried to twist her neck around without moving the rest of her body. She saw Jessica holding a plastic cup with wildflowers and Jaeson following her with the nurse's stool. “Hi,” she greeted them, trying to sound cheerful, while fully aware of how silly she must look with pink polka dots all over her face and arms.
“You poor thing.” Jessica planted herself on the floor cross-legged and held up the cup of flowers. “I wonder where I can put these so you can see them.”
“Right there on the floor would be fine. Thanks, Jessica. They're pretty.”
Just then, a chorus of boys' voices started to sing under the slightly opened window. “The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah. The ants go marching up Christy's legs, hurrah, hurrah.”
“Hey!” Jaeson yelled, opening the window all the way and sticking his face out where they could see him. “You guys are in big trouble! I've got all your names. You're going to get it!”
The boys immediately scattered. Jessica pressed her lips together to try to keep from laughing.
Christy broke the silence with a ripple of laughter. “That was pretty clever of them,” she said. Jaeson and Jessica laughed with her.
“Are you feeling any better?” Jessica asked.
“A little, I guess. Sorry I won't be able to help you guys serve tables. And I'm really sorry I made us lose the race.”
“Don't worry about it,” Jaeson said. “I feel awful since I'm the one who showed you that hiding place. I promise there weren't any ants two years ago when I hid there.”
“It's not your fault, Jaeson. I should have looked before I crawled in or at least worn jeans. I was going to take a towel, but I left it in the canoe. I feel bad because I'm letting you down with the dinner and the counselors' skit and everything.”
“We were able to rework the skit. It's going to be fine. The main thing is that you get better, Christy.'
“I'll try,” she said.
“We need to get ready for dinner,” Jessica said. “We'll check on you later, okay?”
“Oh, Jessica, if you have time, could you braid Sara's hair? I promised I'd do it for the dinner tonight.”
“Sure. Anyone else you want me to check on for you? I think the camp secretary is already up in your cabin.”
“No. Just tell them all I said hi, and I'll see them in the morning.”
Jessica adjusted the cup of flowers on the floor so they faced Christy. “I think the purple ones are the prettiest,” Jessica said. Then kissing the tip of her finger, she touched the “kiss” to the end of Christy's nose.
Christy smiled up at her and said, “That's about the only place on me that didn't get bit!”
Jaeson and Jessica left. She felt awfully alone.
“I'm going to dinner,” the nurse announced about fifteen minutes later. “I'll bring something back for you. Are you too warm or too cold?”
“No, I'm fine. I'm getting a little stiff though. Can I at least turn on my side?”
“It'd be better if you could wait. The majority of your bites are on the back of your legs, and I want them to remain exposed to the air.”
“Okay,” Christy sighed. “Are you sure you didn't find this remedy in some medieval book of tortures under 'How to Drive a Person Crazy'?”
“At least you still have your sense of humor,” the nurse called over her shoulder as she left.
Yeah, my sense of humor and I are going to have a great time tonight.
Christy tried to pray again, going through and remembering everyone she could think of at camp. Near the end, right after she prayed for the bus driver, she dozed off and didn't wake up until she heard the door open.
The nurse must be here with my dinner. I'm not exactly hungry. I sure could use something to drink though.
Soft music began to play behind her, and she twisted her head to see Jaeson, dressed in a crisp white shirt with a black bow tie, walking toward her. He had a white towel draped over his arm, and in both hands he balanced a tray decked with his CD player, a can of 7Up with a straw sticking out of it, and a plate of chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans.
“Dinner is served,” he said in his best British butler voice. “I asked the nurse if I could bring this to you for her.”
Christy should have felt delighted and honored by Jaeson's clever display of attention. Instead, she felt helpless, lying there with her painted clown face, not even able to cut her own meat.
“You didn't have to do this,” she said.
“Oh, yes I did. It's the camp rules. If one counselor causes another counselor to end up in the infirmary, said counselor must serve the invalid dinner.”
“I'm not exactly an invalid.”
“Oh, really? Then youll just have to pretend for me. Do you want a drink?” Jaeson sat on the stopl, balancing the tray in his lap and cutting up Christy's chicken into little pieces. He seemed perfectly content to continue acting out his part.
That's when it hit Christy that everything with Jaeson that week had been pretend. The moonlight picnic, talking about their dreams, all his smiles at her on the archery field and at the pool. They were pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend for the week. Tomorrow she would leave, and Jaeson would start the game all over again with some other girl next week.
“Is that what all this is to you?” Christy asked. “One big game of pretend?”
“What do you
mean?” Jaeson scooted closer to her cot and used his knees as a table for Christy to eat off of. He handed her the fork and smiled.
“I mean, I don't know anything about you, and yet you've treated me all week like I'm you're girlfriend.”
Jaeson looked surprised. “Why? Because I taught you how to shoot an arrow and showed you the moon from a canoe?”
“I'm not accusing you of doing anything wrong,” Christy said, realizing how unkind her statement must have sounded to a guy who was nice enough to bring her dinner. “I've been playing along the whole time. I've liked doing things with you and holding hands and the moonlight picnic and everything. It's just that tomorrow it's going to be all over, and it'll seem like it was just a dream.”
“That's how it is,” Jaeson agreed. “You'd better start on the potatoes. They're going to be cold soon.”
Christy took a forkful of potatoes and regretted the way she had blurted out her thoughts.
“Dreams aren't bad, are they?” Jaeson said cautiously. “If you both know you're playing the same game, then it's okay, and nobody gets hurt, right?”
Christy thought that somehow it didn't seem right or feel right. She didn't know how to say it in a way that would make sense to Jaeson, so she took a bite of chicken. “This is good. Thanks for bringing it to me. I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”
“You're very welcome. And if you're upset about anything I said or did this week, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just wanted to enjoy the week with you.”
After Jaeson left, Christy lay alone in the quiet room thinking about his words. Why should they bother her? She had played the camp romance game. She had wanted to. Why did her heart feel achy now?
It must be that I'm leaving tomorrow and this whole dream will disappear. What will I have left of my relationship with Jaeson? He hasn't indicated that he would ever want to see me again or that he would write or call. Take me out of the week and put in another girl and I'll bet he would do everything the same with her. Next week he probably will.
Christy decided that she and Jaeson had had a dream relationship. It had started in her head, and she had convinced her heart it was real. Tomorrow it would be gone, evaporated like a morning mist. And she already knew it would not be her head that would be sad, but her heart. This dream relationship would leave her craving more.