Girl on the Run (12 page)

G
randma told me self-pity is an indulgence, only to be enjoyed for short periods of time. Too much and you start to think you're the victim; too little and you lose your drive to change what has you so upset in the first place.

“Where do you think gumption comes from?” she said.

I sat on the porch steps determined to feel sorry for myself for exactly half an hour and then send an e-mail to Chloe. I couldn't tell her how I was falling apart. All I wanted was news from home. If Mom and Grandma were doing fine, then I'd have to suck it up and keep my end of the bargain. Besides, Chloe wants Old Jesse back. I still hadn't figured out how to pull that off.

Liam came out of the cabin, followed by Duff and Spencer. “We're all done,” he announced.

I imagined everything pushed under their bunk beds in a heap of dirty socks and underwear. “Good,” I said, pretending to be satisfied. I had no intention of sticking my hand under their mattresses. “The clipboard had you slotted for tug-of-war with Cabin 8,” I told them, “but half of them have the flu.”

Liam looked quite happy with this turn of events. “Let's go down to the beach,” he said. The other two jumped over the railing and hustled down the slope. Liam paused and shifted his weight a few times. “You can watch from here,” he said.

I rolled my eyes and waved him off.

The cupettes sauntered past—the real reason, I guessed, for the boys' sudden call to shore. Diana gave me a wave and I pointed to my bracelet, giving her a wink. The groups met on the beach. The first awkward hellos were followed by a burst of laughter, as the goof of the group broke the tension with some stupid gag. The goof, as always, was Spencer.

Scotty came out, but instead of running to the beach like the others, he sat down beside me. He tapped his foot a few times. “Hey,” he finally said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you're a girl, right?”

My confidence was soaring. “Yup.”

“What does a girl mean when she says she's fine, but she says it like she's really mad?”

I was ready to give him a sarcastic answer, but his expression was so sincere I knew he wasn't teasing me. “It means she's mad,” I said. “And the fact you don't know what she's mad about makes her even angrier.”

Scotty tugged on the bottom of his T-shirt and stretched his leg out a few times. “How do you find out?”

“Ask, or keep saying nice stuff about her until she feels better.”

“Oh.”

I caught him staring at the others. “Is that why you're not down on the beach?”

He shook his head, but I could see the blush. I tried to think of what Grandma would say to him. Then I wished she were here to help
me
. Kirk had me so frustrated and confused. I'd never been so obsessed over a guy.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Scotty asked again.

I rubbed my cheeks to disguise the sudden blush. “I'm fine,” I lied.

We shared a moment of silence.

Scotty scratched his head then cleared his throat. “Um…is this a test?”

I laughed.

He smiled. “You're a good counsellor, J.J,” he said.

My face grew hotter. The compliment touched me more than I expected. “Thanks,” I said. “You know, you're the first person to say that.”

He gave me a confused look. “Really? Not even Kirk?”

“Oh please, he only notices when I screw up.”

“He thinks you're doing a great job.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Then why is he always asking me if I want to quit?”

“That bothers you?”

I paused. “It's like this,” I began to explain. “With a girl, a compliment goes a long way. And it would be nice if he said, ‘Good job not letting the boys drown or kill someone today,' that's all.”

Scotty chewed on his lower lip. “So when in doubt, compliment?” he asked.

“Exactly.”

We watched the activity on the beach as he mulled over my advice.

“If you like him,” he finally said. “You should tell him.”

My mouth dropped open. “I do
not
like him.” I thought for a few seconds. “It doesn't matter anyway, he's with Lacey.”

“No, he's not,” Scotty said. “Lacey has a boyfriend. She talked about him on the hike. He used to be a counsellor here.” He stood up and ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks for the advice,” he said.

Meeting adjourned.

When he reached the beach, he singled out the dark-haired cupette with the pale blonde ends he'd shared the canoe with. I guessed the compliments were flying her way.

Later, after the boys were tucked in and holding their nightly farting contest, I sat in the lounge reading Chloe's most recent email. Funny how she can pick out things I hadn't even recognized, but once she pointed them out to me, they were obvious.

Dear Jesse,

Even though you had to chase down your diary with a crowd of hot guys watching (send pictures please), the fact you were running again is so exciting!!!

You spent three paragraphs describing the feeling of the grass under your feet.

Your grandma said you have gumption with a capital G.

She gave me a few tidbits of news from town, and how her summer job as a busgirl at the Queen's Galley was going, but it was the last sentence that made my heart race.

P.S. In case you haven't unpacked everything yet, your runners are in the side pocket.

My runners. The surge of energy I had felt chasing Spencer that night came back to me. It was the first time I had run since the morning Dad died. I thought something bad would happen if I ran again. I never confided this to anyone, even Grandma.

I was afraid to run.

I didn't think I deserved to run.

But something in the back of my brain clicked. The euphoria was almost dizzying. I could get my life back. I could find Old Jesse.

I could run again.

Voices coming up the stairs brought me out of my trance. I logged off the computer and went to the door. When I heard Lacey, I held back, hoping to duck out without having to talk to her.

“You said you would talk to Susan,” she said.

“She told me it couldn't hurt to make a few calls…considering the circumstances.”

“So?” she asked. “Did you call?”

“Yeah, I left a message.”

Lacy squealed, “Yes! Thank you, Kirk!”

I walked out the door. They were in an embrace—how nice.

Lacey looked over his shoulder. “Jazzy?” she said.

“Hey,” Kirk stammered, stepping out of the hug.

“I was sending an email,” I said. My upper lip stuck to my top teeth. Three of us stared at each other. Finally, I darted past them and jogged down the steps. If there ever was a time I wished I was wearing my runners, it was now.

Boyfriend, my ass. I reminded myself never to take the word of a twelve-year-old as the truth. I dared to turn around, but no one was following me. Kirk, it seemed, was content to let me go this time.

I stopped beside a hedge looming way over my height, black and concealing in the dark. I crouched down in the shadows and hugged my knees.

Soon the tears came. I wiggled closer to the hedge, trying to disappear. There was no way I was walking across the lawn like this. I made sure to stay quiet—easy for someone who's had a lot of practice hiding grief. I curled up, letting my forehead rest on my knees.

“I've been waiting for you.”

The guy's voice was close. A few branches rustled behind me. Someone was in the darkness of the hedge. Everything went numb…this was no prank.

Mom always told me that intuition was a powerful thing, and I should never ignore what my gut, regardless of whether it would hurt someone's feelings.

“You don't see the rabbits making polite small talk when the fox is in the forest,” she would say. “They get the hell out of there, and you should too.”

Except my rabbit legs were stuck to the spot.

“I was afraid you weren't going to show up,” he said, a little clearer this time.

Devin?

Was this some kind of creepy revenge? I filled up my lungs to let out the biggest scream. Another voice made me choke on the spot.

“I had to wait for my counsellor to fall asleep,” she whispered.

The mental light bulb above my head turned on. This was a lovers' rendezvous, except I was in the middle of it. Squinting into the hedge, I could barely make out their silhouettes through the branches. There was an open space inside, like a tiny room.

This must be the “special place” he had been going to show me. The whispering continued and I leaned closer. They were totally clueless I was so close. I could have walked away undetected.

But I didn't.

Maybe it was the fact my diary had been read out loud in front of everyone, or maybe I felt Devin had unfairly labelled me as a bitch, never accepting my apology. But I reasoned away the eavesdropping as a combination revenge and reward for my own embarrassment, plus all the other crap I'd been dealt.

“I want to give you something,” Devin said. “Look up at the sky through the hole in the branches.”

She giggled. “What am I looking for?” she asked.

“The prettiest star.”

Again, a few more giggles. “Um…that one,” she finally decided. “It's all twinkly.”

“From now on, it's yours. Every time I see that star, I'll see you.”

And me too, apparently.

It worked better than Taylor Swift tickets. When the kissing started, my tonsils cringed. I really should get the hell out of here, fox or no fox.

“Wow,” she breathed. “No one has ever kissed me like that before.”

“I can't believe someone as pretty as you doesn't have a boyfriend.”

More giggles. “Well, the boys aren't as cute as you at my school,” she said. “Besides, I'm only fifteen.”

Ah, fifteen. My first provincial record.

“So am I,” he said.

What?! I almost tumbled into the shrub.

“You look older,” she said.

Devin laughed. “I'm big, like all my brothers,” he said. “I'm going into grade ten in September.”

Devin was only fifteen? I put a hand across my stomach—I thought I was going to puke. I had been touching tongues with a kid. Okay, not really a kid, but close enough. Everything felt backwards. I wished I could hit the rewind button back to that first night during the fireworks. I never would have flirted with Devin if I'd known how young he was.

A sense of failure replaced my shock. I was supposed to be making memories this summer. Instead I was sitting on the damp evening grass, wishing to erase them. A hopeless exhaustion settled in my bones.

When their making out started again, I slunk away like the guilty peeper I was. Walking back to the cabin in a daze, I replayed all my times with Devin. It made sense now. How his team won the soccer game. How he never came to the lounge or went to the counsellor activities. It's because he was too young to be a counsellor, plus all his talk about still growing, and his immature attitude.

I was so stupid.

This was the dingleberry cherry on my totally craptastic day. I was prepared to go through my window to avoid the boys, but someone was waiting on the steps for me.

“Are you all right?” Lewis asked.

I dabbed my nose with my sleeve. “Why are you here?”

“Nice to see you too.” He held out a plate of cookies. “I noticed you hardly ate any meatloaf, which was amazing by the way.”

“Sorry. No appetite.”

“Chocolate chip,” he said, holding up the plate.

I took a cookie. It was still warm. “You didn't put raisins in them, did you?”

“Never.”

I sat down beside him and finished it in two bites.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, reaching for the plate again.

Lewis nudged me with his shoulder. “My cookies aren't supposed to make you cry.”

In between more cookies and a few tears, I told him about my whole day, ending with the embarrassing Devin episode.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “Devin knew you were seventeen.”

“
Eighteen
in September,” I said. “Oh god, that makes it worse. Almost three years! Why didn't he say anything? Even when he knew I assumed he was an older counsellor?”

Lewis gave me a look. “Why do you think?”

I brushed the last of the crumbs from my hands. “You know what I've learned?” I told him. “That it's better not to care about anything.”

“Why is that better?”

“Because you're never disappointed and you never get hurt.”

Lewis shook his head. “Then you'll never feel any love either. No one is an island, Jesse.”

“I don't even know what that means,” I snapped. “Life sucks, okay. I just want someone to agree with me.”

Lewis put the plate down, and got quiet. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, lightly folding his hands. We both stared into the darkness. “I tried to keep it a secret, you know,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “I was going to wait until I'd finished high school to come out.” I turned to him, but he kept staring straight ahead.