“Still mad at me?” he asked.
“Still gives the impression there was a moment in time when I wasn’t mad at you,” I said.
His grin broadened. Why didn’t he look dorky in his uniform? “Come on. There has to be some time when you weren’t mad at me?”
I shook my head. “Can’t think of any.”
“How ’bout last summer when I taught you how to feed the baby bird?”
During one of the weekly scavenger hunts, he’d found a bird with a broken wing. It hadn’t been on the list of things to find that we’d been given, but nothing on the list had been as interesting. The robin had become the camp mascot. The counselors had put Sean in charge of caring for it. He’d let me help. It had been kinda neat. But sad, too, when it grew large enough that we had to set it free.
I scrunched up my face. Which he must have liked because his grin got even bigger. How large a smile could he have?
“Okay,” I admitted reluctantly. “The bird was cool.”
“And how ’bout—”
“Here you go,” Ed said, effectively halting our trek down memory lane.
Thank goodness. Being duped into liking a guy who would lie and cheat wasn’t exactly my proudest moment.
I stared at the length of rope Ed was dangling in front of us. It was maybe two or two and a half feet long.
“Come on, little lady, take it,” he said.
Okay, we had turned into a dude ranch while I slept.
“What’s it for?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
He walked off. I looked at Sean—only because he was the closest person within eye contact.
“Why didn’t he give you a rope?” I asked.
Sean shrugged. “Maybe because I’m not a little lady.”
He did a perfect imitation of Ed, and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
When Ed had finished passing out the ropes, Edna told us to tie one end around one of partner one’s ankles and the other end around one of partner two’s ankles. I could see where this was going and it was enough to cause my smile to fade.
She said we were going to do synchronized walking through the woods.
“Sounds like an Olympic event, doesn’t it?” Sean asked.
I looked at him, realized I was smiling again, and wiped the smile from my face. I was not going to be charmed by a cheater. “She’s got to be kidding.”
“Thought we’d already established that she does not kid,” Sean said.
And just as he finished speaking, Edna explained that learning to hike through the woods, joined at the ankles, would teach us teamwork.
Sean snatched the rope from my fingers, bent down, and began wrapping and knotting one end around my ankle.
“This is ridiculous,” I said. “They’re treating us like kids. The whole reason I wanted to be a CIT was because I’m too old to do this kind of thing.”
“It’s all part of the team-building mentality,” Sean said. “It’s like the way you teach a bunch of kids to get along. You give them common goals, something to work on together.”
“You say that like you know all about teaching kids.”
He peered up at me. He really did have beautiful blue eyes. “I have six younger brothers and sisters.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Unlike Edna, I do believe in joking, but not about that.” He began tying the other end of the rope around his ankle. “I’ve become pretty good at getting them to behave.”
“Is that why they chose you to be a CIT?”
“Among other things.” He stood up. “I think if we work hard at this we could score a perfect ten.”
I thought he was referring to his earlier comment about the synchronized walking Olympic event. I couldn’t be sure, though. Something mischievous in his eyes made me wonder if perhaps he was talking about something else. Something more personal.
Like us, maybe, as a couple being a perfect ten. Where did that thought come from?
“Wasn’t one of your brothers at camp last year?” I asked.
“Yep. Billy. He’s planning to come back this year.”
“Brat-Boy,” I muttered because he was always getting into mischief. I guess that kind of thing ran in the family.
“Okay, CITs, let’s go!” Edna yelled and trudged off in the direction of a worn trail that led into the woods.
“Not fair. She and Ed aren’t joined at the ankle,” I grumbled.
Sean chuckled.
I started to head for the trail, but my foot got caught. Caught by the rope that Sean had tied to it. I stumbled back, right into his arms.
“So you trust me now to catch you,” he said.
“In your dreams.”
In my dreams. Gosh, he seemed strong. When had that happened? Not that he’d ever held me in his arms before, but, sheesh. I worked my way free of his hold. I noticed we weren’t the only ones in an awkward position. The difference was everyone else was laughing, thinking it was funny.
“You need to lighten up,” Sean said.
“Are you saying that I’m heavy?” I asked, indignant. I so was not heavy. Maybe I wasn’t as thin as Liz—the vegetarian—but I wasn’t overweight.
Shaking his head, Sean put his fingers on either side of my mouth and pulled the corners up. “Lighten up. As in your attitude. You are way too serious about this CIT training.”
“You know at the end of the week, if we fail—”
“Failure isn’t an option.” He took a small step and looked back at me. “We just have to work together.”
Why was he being so reasonable? And why couldn’t I be? Wasn’t my ultimate goal not to be sent home by the end of the week? I didn’t have to date the guy. I didn’t even have to like him.
All I had to do was endure.
I could do that. Easy. No problem.
Actually, once we got into step and adjusted our strides, walking joined at the ankles wasn’t too difficult. Of course, I didn’t see that it had much potential as an Olympic event.
Sean and I were at the back of the pack. Every now and then, we’d hear a shriek and a grunt as someone stumbled. Embarrassed laughter. Twice I recognized Liz’s laughter. I wondered if she was tripping on purpose just to have Terrific Trent help her up.
“So, how ’bout you,” Sean suddenly said. “You got any brothers or sisters?”
What was he doing? Picking up a conversation from half an hour ago? I wanted to give him a pointed look or an are-you-a-doofus stare, but I figured any such action on my part would result in my falling into his arms. Literally.
“A brother,” I admitted. We were, after all, in the midst of a semi-truce.
“Younger? Older?”
“Younger.”
“Name?”
I stopped. He kept going. My leg shot out as he stepped forward.
I teetered. Shrieked.
He spun back. Reached for me.
I dropped to the ground. He fell on top of me. Grunted.
Then he grinned. “We’re going to lose some points for this.”
“Will you stop with the points already?” I shoved on his shoulders.
He rolled off. I sat up. “Why do you even care what my brother’s name is?”
He stood up, careful to keep his foot next to mine to avoid another fall. Then, to my surprise, he reached down and held out his hands.
I thought about being prideful, getting up on my own, but in the end, I put my hands in his and let him pull me to my feet.
Which was a big mistake. Because now we were standing really close. I was wishing he had freckles so I could distract myself with a quick game of connect the freckles. Instead, I had nothing to do except look into his eyes. They were the color of the lake and I felt like I was drowning.
“Four summers,” he said quietly. “And I don’t know anything about you. Except you paint your toenails a bright red—”
“I don’t.”
“Gave it up, huh?”
I shook my head. I was so n
ot going to explain myself to him.
“Realized it made you look like a snobby, stuck-up, rich girl—”
I shoved hard on his chest. He yelped, stumbled back—
Which, of course, meant I stumbled on top of him.
A really bad thing. Because I was right on top of him and his arms had wrapped around me, and now we were close enough that he could see the tears in my eyes.
“Oh, great, now you’re gonna cry like a baby. Call Edna over and tattle—”
“Jerk!” I hit his shoulder. “I painted my toenails red that first summer because of my grandmother, okay? She died right before camp started. She always painted her toenails red in summer. The brightest, reddest red she could find. So I did it, too, because I was missing her. So can you shut up already about the toes?”
The shocked look on his face made me think that maybe he was going to shut up for the remainder of the summer. I rolled off him and pushed myself to my feet. Without his help this time, thank you very much.
When he was standing, he said, “Look, Jess, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Because he’d never asked. I wasn’t going to bother to point that out. Besides, it was personal. And four years ago, he’d been nothing except an irritating guy who’d put a snake in my bed.
“Jessica,” I said, angling my chin. “Only my friends get to call me Jess.”
He grinned. “Trust me. Before summer is over, we’re going to be friends.”
“No way,” I said. I took a giant step forward with my free right foot and tugged on his right foot using my left leg that was roped to him.
“Yes way,” he said.
We fell into our synchronized step. Moving quickly to catch up with the others.
Not stumbling once.
It was kinda scary. Like something you would do with a good friend who knew you really well. Knew your steps and your moves.
I had no plans to get serious with Sean. But that didn’t mean I was too stubborn to recognize that he was right. That maybe we were not only taking synchronized steps through the woods, but maybe we had just taken a step—a very small step—toward becoming friends.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, while it was still dark, I got dressed in jeans and a hoodie, grabbed my flashlight, and snuck out of the dormitory. A chill dampness surrounded me as I trudged over the dew-coated ground. I knew I was leaving a vivid trail of footprints that the most inexperienced camper would be able to follow, but I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I just wanted to check out something.
A heavy stillness hung in the air. One of the things that I really liked about camp was that it was so far away from the city. Well, I’d liked it until I realized that I couldn’t get cell phone reception. But even with that drawback, it was still incredibly peaceful out here.
I followed the well-worn path to the lake. When I got to the end of the trail, I turned off my flashlight.
Without the lush canopy of leaves providing a barrier against the first rays of sunlight, I could see clearly. The calm lake. The water lapping at the shore. The wooden dock where I would sometimes come to sit when I needed to be alone. And the old lifeguard platform that was about twenty-five yards from shore. A long, narrow red banner was draped down one side. When the wind blew, the banner waved in the breeze like a flag. This morning no wind stirred.
Lifeguards no longer sat on the platform. Or at least, I’d never seen one sitting there. Campers couldn’t go into the water without a head counselor nearby, so we didn’t have official lifeguards.
And so the platform was no longer used.
Except as a challenge.
The red banner, a dare.
I’d heard the significance of the red banner the first summer I was here. The first time I’d seen it, it was tied to the porch of the dormitory that I was staying in now.
Until this morning, I’d never actually seen it on the platform. Legend had it that before summer camp officially began, the most courageous counselor would be the first to brave the chilly water of the lake, swim out to the platform, and retrieve the red banner. She would be recognized as the “most outstanding” counselor. The red banner would mark her dormitory. She was given a special cap to distinguish her from everyone else.
From the get-go everyone would know she was special.
I wanted to be seen as special.
I wanted that red banner.
I crouched down at the water’s edge and wiggled my fingers in the water.
A shiver went through me. It was cold!
I heard a twig snap and jerked my head around. Sean stood at the edge of the woods, staring at the lake. No, not at the lake. At the platform. At the red banner.
A guy who had wanted to win so badly last year that he’d cheated.
He turned his head slightly, met my gaze. “I’m going after it, Twinkle Toes.”
“In what? A canoe?” I called out.
He ambled toward me. “Nah. I’ll swim out to get it. That’s the rule, isn’t it?”
“Since when do you follow rules?”
Ignoring my question, he squatted beside me. “So how cold is it?”
“Pretty cold.”
“So why do you want to be the first one to jump in?”
“Why do you?”
“Why not? Someone has to be first.”
I stood up. “Well, I’ve got news for you. It’s going to be me, and I’m going to prove it by getting the red banner.”
“When?” he asked.
“When you’re not looking.”
I spun on my heel, started to walk away, then stopped as a horrible thought occurred to me. Is he going to try to get it now?
I looked back over my shoulder. He was watching me. “That water is really cold right now,” I said.
He walked over to me. “I like to win.”
“So do I.”
“Maybe we should race for it.”
I looked at my watch. “We don’t have time this morning. They’ll be ringing the breakfast bell soon.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” he said.
Maybe, I thought. But only if he wasn’t around.
The tower was huge. Although calling it a tower might give a false impression of what it looked like. It was basically a ladder with a platform on top. And I guess really it only looked huge when you were standing at the top as I was presently doing.
In reality I guess I was about twenty feet off the ground. I was wearing a harness that was attached to a rope that went over a pulley. I was supposed to jump and trust that the harness, the rope, the pulley, and my partner and the other CITs who were holding the other end of my rope wouldn’t let go, would see me safely to the ground.
Liz had leaped off the tower, laughing all the way to the ground. So had Caryn and Torie and Trent and Sean and every other CIT. I’d stayed at the back of the line, hoping rain would come or the sun would fall from the sky. Anything that would stop the other CITs from learning the truth. The truth even my best friend didn’t know.
I was a chicken when it came to heights.
Sudden darkness would definitely put an end to Edna’s maniacal fun. The woman had this whole trusting-people-to-catch-you issue going on. I figured someone had dropped her as a baby. Why else would she think falling and being caught was the greatest way to establish trust?
I looked at the tops of the trees. Who was I kidding? I was in the middle of them. I looked at the ground. I envisioned myself as a cartoon character falling. Splat!
I trusted that the harness and rope would hold. I trusted that the other CITs had superhuman strength and could guide my descent to the ground.
But I didn’t trust…gravity? What didn’t I trust?
This was Fear Factor times ten. No, times a hundred.
I couldn’t do this.
But I had to do it. I was a CIT. Everyone was waiting.
“It’s not jumping,” Liz suddenly yelled. “It’s flying!”
Did she know about my fears?
br /> “Only chickens don’t fly!” Sean suddenly yelled. “Brawk! Brawk!”
This jerk was my partner? I’d show him—
And suddenly I wasn’t a chicken. I was an eagle! Being lowered to the ground.
My heart was thundering. I could hear it whoosh, whoosh, whooshing.
My feet touched the earth. I wanted to do something dramatic like drop to my knees and kiss the dirt. But I was a CIT who’d leaped off a tower. I was cool.
Liz was suddenly hugging me. “See, it wasn’t so bad.”
No, it wasn’t, but I didn’t want to do it again. Ever!
That afternoon the rain I’d been praying for while I stood on the tower arrived unexpectedly. Everyone got drenched rushing back to camp.
Edna gave us all an hour to get dried off and over to the activities hut. When I thought of a hut, I thought of something made of straw. This wasn’t. It was made of wood, but I guess it seemed adventurous to give different names to the various buildings. It was just another cabin, but it had lots of tables and chairs and artsy stuff, and no one cared if you spilled paint on the floor or tables. Liz and I had done our share of finger painting there, but we figured we wouldn’t be doing that today. Finger painting was for campers, not counselors.
Since we were going to be indoors, Liz and I decided to take a little more time to get ready. Liz had smuggled some of her older sister’s makeup into her things. The smuggling was a summer camp tradition. Liz’s sister owned practically everything Sephora sells, so she never noticed anything was missing. It was the reason we’d been able to have makeover night last year, since neither of our moms would let us wear makeup for real.
And at camp, since we got so hot outdoors, we didn’t really want to wear makeup anyway. But the rain changed everything. We put on some mascara and a little blush. Put on the lipstick Liz had confiscated—and took it right off. It was a bright orange that made us both look totally weird.
Since our uniforms were wet, we also had the freedom to wear something that we wanted to wear. Because the rain had chilled the air, I put on a long-sleeved fitted hoodie from Abercrombie. It was black with a white flowery-printed design on the front. I put on low-rider jeans. No pierced navel. Mom had let me get my ears pierced when I was ten, but the navel was going to have to wait until I was eighteen. So unfair.