All for One (48 page)

Joey nodded, and Mary knelt near the end of the footbridge, her own fear now gone. Only a desire for Elena to be able to do this burned in her.

Jeff stood back by the grab net and crossed his good fingers.

“Take a step, sweetie,” Ballard urged her gently. “One step.”

One step. One step. Elena thought she could do that. One step. One. One.

Step.

“Good,” Ballard said. “How about another?”

Okay. Another. She could do another. Another was just one more.

One more. One.

Step.

She now had both feet on the bridge. It swayed easily, her weight barely testing it.

“Go fast, Elena!” Joey said. “It’s easy that way!”

“It is!” PJ told her. “Fast!”

But she could not do it fast. She felt that if she did she would trip over something. Over one of those planks. Or the spaces between them.

“Don’t look down,” Ballard said.

“Elena,” Mary said. “Look at me. Here.”

Elena’s eyes crept up and focused on her teacher. Her teacher with arms outstretched and a safe, warm smile. An
‘everything is going to be all right’
smile. A
‘you can do this’
smile.

One more step.

And another.

That’s the way
, Elena saw her teacher say. She could not hear it above the roar spitting from the gorge.

And another.

Good. You’re doing good. You’re strong.

Eyes on Miss Austin. Eyes on her.

And another.

The others were saying run, but she kept her eyes on Miss Austin.

One step at a time. Come on.

Past the halfway point.

“Run!”

Slow. One more step.
Arms waiting. Waiting to hold. To hold right.

Step. Step. Hold the rail. Step. Step. Step. There. Almost.

I COULD MAKE YOU PUSH HER, MARY! MAYBE THAT’S JUST WHAT I”LL HAVE YOU DO, YOU BITCH!

Shut up! I’m not listening to you!

I THINK YOU SHOULD PUSH HER OVER! PUSH HER OVER THE EDGE! KILL HER LIKE YOU KILLED YOUR FATHER!

I didn’t kill my father!

PUSH HER, MARY! PUSH HER!

No!
Mary wanted to scream. To close her eyes and scream at the voice. But she could not, would not, take her eyes off Elena. The little, sweet girl needed her now. Needed her...
again?

What does ‘again’ mean?

PUSH HER LIKE YOU PUSHED YOUR FATHER! TOO FAR!

Mary forced the voice down, the accusations down, everything but Elena’s sweet self down. Hid it. Tucked it away. She’d mastered that art (
always?
) of late.

She focused everything on Elena, coaxing her with soothing eyes. Safe eyes.
Come to me...

The last step, then solid ground and...

PUSH HER! NOW, YOU SLUT!

PJ gasped, and Elena fell into Mary’s arms.

Mary held her close, squeezing tight, praising her with human touch. The best kind. The right kind.

Elena hugged back until her teacher eased her away.

“You did it,” Mary told her.
We both did.

“I did it,” Elena panted, beaming. The best smile ever.

“Yes you did,” Mary said. “You can do anything. Anything.”

Joey gave Elena a high five, then PJ, then a long stream of her classmates, and across the gorge Ballard was whooping it up like a kid.

Jeff watched it all in stony silence. He smiled at Elena when she looked his way. She looked really happy.

He felt sorry for her.

Forty Five

An hour after dinner in Camp One Wing’s dining hall, Ballard set a roaring blaze in the twin pits at the camp fire circle. Most of the camp gathered there to sing songs and act out time worn skits that seemed new and even funny every few years.

Some, though, chose to do other things.

PJ knocked on the door to Jayhawk 2 and waited for it to open. Joey came out alone.

“Where’s Jeff?” she asked. When she’d suggested they go for a walk instead of hanging out at the camp fire, Jeff had been included. She knew that he knew that. He was acting way too weird.

“I don’t know. I’ve been waiting for him for twenty minutes. He didn’t come back after dinner.”

PJ shook her head. “I didn’t think Mike and him were that good of friends. Why’s this making him act this way?”

“I don’t know.”

PJ looked around, rising up on her toes again and again, feeling awkward, wondering if she should just say ‘Oh, okay. Goodnight.’ She didn’t want to do that, and, after all, Jeff didn’t
have
to be with them. Did he?

“So,” Joey began, and PJ’s heart fluttered. There was
that
sound in his voice. Like he was as scared inside as she was. “Do you want to walk out to the log?”

PJ made her mouth shut so she couldn’t say anything stupid, and just nodded. A pretty emphatic nod it was, still.

They started off toward the dining hall, where they would pick up the trail to the fallen log in the clearing. It wasn’t far at all, PJ knew, but if you sat on it you could look out over the valley, and sometimes see shooting stars streak bright over the next range. Joey had told her that last school year.

As they neared the dining hall they could hear music. Piano music. Loud, happy, the kind that a thousand people could dance to without knowing how to dance. When they got a little closer they could see through the windows. Miss Austin and Elena were sitting side by side at the old upright, their hands attacking the keys in tandem, their voices rising in song to compete with the music.

Joey and PJ stared at the ground and smiled.

“Elena looks happy,” PJ commented. She crossed her arms as the breeze picked up.

“Yeah,” Joey agreed. “Do you think she’s over it?”

PJ shrugged.

They walked on, the music fading behind, and off to the right Ballard was on the camp fire stage, probably telling some old, creepy ghost story by the sound of the silence coming from those in attendance.

The breeze kicked up good and PJ shivered. Joey pointed off the trail toward the log and asked, “Where’s your jacket?”

“In my cabin,” she lied. It was at home, on purpose. She decided that sweatshirts would do, that she’d rather be a little cold than a lot embarrassed around a bunch of people who didn’t know her and weren’t her friends.

She knew that Joey wouldn’t have teased her like Walter Curtis, but she also felt better not wearing it around him. Better, but much colder.

“It’s freezing out here,” Joey said. The log was ahead, flat and dark, the distant glow of the camp fires tickling it with furtive highlights.

“Ballard has shorts on.”

“Ballard is an alien from another planet,” Joey said, then stopped as they reached the log and took off his jacket. “Here.”

“What?”

“Put this on.”

She stared at it. “Your jacket?”

“Unless you don’t want to.”

PJ shook her head, then nodded, then got even more confused and took a steadying breath. “No.” She reached out for it. “I’d like to. I mean... Thanks.”

Joey smiled and helped her into his jacket, then sat on the log and swung both his legs over so he could watch for shooting stars. She did the same, sitting close to him. He didn’t seem to mind, so she scooted close enough that their elbows were touching. He looked at her and she put her head on his shoulder.

The twin fires burned far behind them, but PJ felt as warm as she’d ever felt.

They sat there together waiting for stars to fall.

*  *  *

“Who taught you to play?” Mary asked Elena as they left the dining hall, little hand clasped to big.

“My mom.”

“You play as good as you sing. You should play at school sometime. Maybe in the spring talent show.”

Elena shrank into a self conscious smile. “I’m not that good.”

Mary stopped and squatted, turning Elena to face her. “You’re good enough to do anything you want. I watched you come across that bridge today.
I
was scared of doing that.”

“But you did it,” Elena said.

Mary put a finger soft on the little girl’s nose. “And so did you.” Steam hissed from the camp fires as Ballard and some helpers dumped buckets of water on them. It was late. “You need to get some sleep, young lady.”

Elena hugged Mary around the neck and let go with a burst of energy that carried her toward her cabin.

Mary watched her until she was swallowed by the night. Then she headed for the staff building, taking the same path as the day before. Determined this time. Determined not to let the voices vex her.

At the spot where the voices had seemed to split from her being the previous day, Mary listened and walked slowly. Purposely slow. Challenging them to come again. Daring the mean one to say things like it had said at the gorge. Vile things. Sickening directions.

“Come on,” Mary muttered to the darkened path, giving the dare voice. “Where are you now? Huh? Afraid of the dark?”

Mary walked on, eyes confidently forward, silence at her back and in her head.

At the side of the staff building she stepped into the half shelter of the phone vestibule and dialed both numbers from memory, hers and her calling card number. She had more trouble with the first. How often did one call themself?

Dooley answered on the second ring. “Austin residence.”

“Austin residence?” Mary kidded him. “That makes it sound like I have a staff or something.”

“Hey. How are you?”

“Good. Is Chester giving you any trouble.”

“He likes to watch me and lick himself. I think he’s gay.”

“Tell that to the neighbor’s calico.”

Dooley laughed quietly. “Is it cold up there?”

“Freezing. There?”

“The same.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Fine until I rolled and a piece of glass jabbed me. You didn’t get it all out of the couch.”

“You slept on the couch? I do have a bed, I’m sure you recall.”

“I know...”

“Sleep in the bed, Dooley.”

“Strange beds, alone...”

“Dooley...”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll be back about five tomorrow. Would plans be out of the question, still?”

“Sunday’s are bad. I have a commitment.”

“That’s all right. Can I call you tomorrow night, though?”

“You can call me. Sure. Are you outside? I heard an owl?”

“It might be there, but, yes, I am outside.”

“Get inside, Mary. Don’t freeze on account of me.”

“Can I say something?”

A wary pause, then, “Go ahead.”

“Well, when I was younger I guess it would have gone like this: I think you’re really rad, Dooley Ashe.”

“Rad? I’m rad?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well then, you’re bitchin’.”

“I’m bitchin’?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to my cabin now.”

“Sleep tight.”

“I will,” Mary said, and waited for the click from the other end before she hung up.

She clasped her hands together and held them low in front as she walked away, a bounce in her step, her own thoughts in her head. She heard little laughter far off. Real laughter, made by real children. A happy sound. A happy day. A happy night.

In the shadows near the phone, Jeff watched her stroll merrily away. He had a rock in his hand, but let it drop next to his foot.
Happy? She’s talking to him and she’s happy?

Jeff waited until she was gone, far gone beyond the cabins, then fell to his knees, tears falling freely.

*  *  *

Dooley hung up and smiled at the phone for a very long time. He was embarrassed by his feelings, the childish simplicity of them in such a complicated matter. He liked Mary. He liked her a lot. He liked looking at her, and though they hadn’t had many conversations unencumbered by the realities of his being here, he truly believed that he would enjoy talking to her. Stoking a fire, pouring some wine, and just talking.

And maybe make love after that.

Dooley blushed to himself and went to the kitchen for something to drink.

Chester followed him and watched as Dooley found a plastic jug of orange juice in the door of the fridge. He unscrewed the lid and took a long drink from the container as he stood in front of the open refrigerator. The tabby seemed intensely interested in this.

“Don’t tell me, Chester; Mary doesn’t do this?”

Chester ogled him.

“Uses a glass, does she?”

One hairy orange leg came up and Chester started to lick himself again.

“To be as limber as a cat,” Dooley observed, then twisted the lid back on the juice and put the jug back in the door. He closed the refrigerator door and walked away.

He only took a few steps before backing up in his own tracks to stand before the big, boxy appliance once again. His eyes played over it, every possible space covered by childish drawings stuck to the door by dozens of little magnets. He hadn’t noticed the display the night before. Hadn’t even come into the kitchen at all then, having opted for a really bad pizza delivered all the way from Bartlett. It had cost him a five dollar tip to get the driver up to Holly Village, but he hadn’t wanted to cook. Hadn’t wanted to enter the kitchen at all.

Now he was sorry he hadn’t.

The pictures were quite interesting, coming from a kid. There was one of a big, arching multicolored rainbow. And one of a little girl skipping. And one of a little girl with brown hair holding hands with a little boy with orange hair. One had bluebirds flying across the sky. Picture after picture after picture. Gifts to Mary, obviously. And from a very serious little artist. Every picture was dated this year, and signed very properly.

Dooley leaned close and read the name.
Mandy Fine.

“Hmm,” he grunted. They must be from an old student, or maybe one that Mary tutored. Dooley had gone through the files and seen the class roster countless times. There was no Mandy Fine in Room 18.

*  *  *

Jeff hadn’t been the only one listening to Mary’s call.

“She wants him for her boyfriend,” Mandy said to herself as she walked in the dark along one of the trails cutting through Camp One Wing. “She wants to hug him, and kiss him, and she wants to fuck him.” She looked straight ahead, her face as dead as Charlie’s. “Hmm.”