Girl on the Run (27 page)

R
umours had begun to circulate. It seemed Cabin 4A had a leak. The cupettes caught wind of our scheme, and it was only a matter of hours before the whole camp figured out I wasn't the one running in tomorrow's race.

This was the one thing that would get me fired for sure, and I was doing it anyway. Full steam ahead. My stomach dropped. Not only would I have to interrupt Mom's summer of healing, but I'd have to leave Kirk and everyone else who'd made a difference. I couldn't pretend anymore that this was a fun summer fling. I'd fallen for Kirk—hard.

I paced back and forth on Cabin 4A's porch, practically wearing down a path in the wood. For once, I wished I was actually competing for the stupid cup. But this wasn't about me anymore. I was worried about Spencer. He hardly ate any lunch and had spent the whole afternoon lying on his bunk, opting out of basketball and the pie-eating contest.

“At least have a meatball,” I said through the screen door, holding the supper plate Lewis had made up.

A long thin arm was resting over his face. “No thanks,” he moaned.

Ben trudged up the steps. I slouched a bit, hoping to turn invisible. Since our eel goo shower episode, we'd only exchanged mumbled greetings with one another. I wasn't feeling too guilty over the whole mix-up though, since he and Lacey seemed to be getting back together. Just like Rizzo and Kenickie.

I took a few steps back. His T-shirt was smeared with mud. “Did you fall or something?” I asked.

He wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead, leaving a dirty streak. “The twins have been booby-trapping the trail for the race.”

“Hmm.” I had a brief moment of satisfaction.

He looked at the untouched pasta dinner in my hands. “What's wrong?” he asked.

“Spencer missed supper,” I said.

We squinted through the screen door, watching Spencer lie motionless on his bunk. Ben took the plate from me and went inside and sat on the floor by Spencer's bed. They talked for a while, and then Spencer sat up and started to eat. My pride took a back seat, but I still smiled. Ben was a good counsellor.

That night, alone in my little shed, I watched the clock tick off the hours while I panicked about all the horrible things that could happen tomorrow. I imagined Spencer getting mauled by a stray cougar on the course or chickening out of the race altogether, opting instead to flip me the bird in front of everyone.

Then I envisioned Susan marching me to the end of the dirt road, leaving me to hitchhike back home. I could picture the long highway stretched out in front of me like my running lane for hurdles. Except this time I couldn't see the finish line, and no one was cheering me on. I didn't know where to run.

My heart beat faster. I had no clue what I was doing. After the race, whether Spencer ran or not, I was going to be fired. I'd have to go home and explain how I totally screwed up.

And then there was Kirk. I put a hand on my stomach—a new kind of pain had taken over. My only consolation was that we hadn't gone all the way. If we did it, I know I'd never be happy with anyone else again.

I was awake for most of the night. Eventually I blinked away the grit from my eyes, then showered, and waited another two hours before I joined Spencer for breakfast.

I clutched the flat black box, and walked down the empty row of tables, finally sitting down across from him. We were the only ones in the main hall, but Lewis had especially made an early meal for us.

Spencer moved a piece of French toast around the plate. “I think I might puke,” he said.

I put the box on the table and pushed it toward him.

“What's this?”

“Open it,” I said. He lifted the cover and stared. My knees bounced under the table nervously.

“It's your necklace.”

“Well…it doesn't fit me anymore.”

“So?”

“So I want you to have it. It's a good luck charm.”

He looked confused. “You're giving me girls' jewellery?”

I silently cursed Lewis. “A guy could wear it too,” I said. “Look at David Beckham.”

Spencer seemed to be giving it some thought. “It's lucky?” he asked.

I stared down at the necklace, now almost perfect again. I felt a tug at my heart. I looked up and met Spencer's gaze. He was watching me closely. I tucked my hair behind my ear and squirmed on the bench. “Do you know that story about the monkey's paw?” I asked.

“No.”

“Whoever owned the little paw would be granted three wishes,” I explained. “Once all three wishes were fulfilled, the person had to pass it on to the next owner.”

He looked doubtful. “That sounds gross.”

“It's a lesson about being careful for what you wish for,” I said, impatiently. “But the point is, all the luck for me in that necklace has been used up.” I waved a hand toward him. “And now it's time to pass it along to someone else.”

Spencer held it in his fingers, as if trying to guess the weight. I envisioned a new nightmare about him throwing it back in the lake.

“Lots of guys wear jewellery. David Beckham,” I began, “is a world-class soccer—”

“—I know who he is.”

“And he's got his own line of designer workout wear.”

Spencer wrapped it around his neck. His hand automatically reached up and touched the silver disc.

“It fits you perfectly,” I said, surprised and a little jealous. “And it looks really cool.”

He actually blushed. We held each other's gaze, saying everything without uttering a word, just like that time he stole Duff's envelope. We were both scared about the race, but we knew if it weren't for each other neither one of us would have come this far. He gave me a smile, and said, “Thanks, Jesse.”

It was the first time he called me by my proper name. It was only two words, but it carried the weight of a thousand apologies.

“Yeah,” I said, gaining a whole new appreciation for all the little mistakes that had led to me being assigned Cabin 4A.

‘A' for appreciation.

“Me too.” My checks grew warm and my eyes began to sting.

The population of Kamp Krystal Lake tripled over the next few hours. Three camps were competing, but our main rival, the winner of last year's triathlon cup, was Camp Skylarker.

By this time, Susan had to have seen the pink signs with Spencer's name, made by the cupettes. I hoped she'd at least wait until after the race before she fired me. I knew I couldn't get away with this, but I'd made a promise to Spencer. My only plan was to avoid her, and with the extra campers crawling over the grounds, it was easier than I thought.

Three swimmers lined up on the shore to begin the race, and I noticed, with a twinge of panic, that Mr. Baxter wasn't around.

The swimming portion began. Kirk gave us an early lead, and although there was no Speedo or cut-offs, I melted when he ran out of the water.

Alicia took off on her bicycle, but after ten minutes, Tyler relayed the message on the walkie-talkie that Camp Whispering Pines had taken a twenty-second lead—huge in cycling. I ran with Scotty to the starting line for the runners.

Spencer looked so small compared to the others.
God,
I thought,
he's only twelve
. I took him aside.

“Remember your training,” I said. “You'll do fine.”

His head swivelled around, searching the faces in the crowd. “Is my dad here?” he asked.

“He's probably talking with Susan.” I gave a small laugh, trying to make light. “You know, helping her polish up the glass case.”

Spencer swallowed and met my gaze. “Do you really think I can win this?” he whispered.

The sun beat down on us, and I was already sweating—still, a shiver ran down my back. “It's up to you,” I said. “Are you determined to see this through to the finish?”

“Jesse Collins?” A familiar voice came from behind me.

Uh-oh.

I'd know that whiny twang anywhere. Janine McInnis. She was always a top three finisher in the ten thousand, and also happened to be the best friend of my fiercest competitor, Tara Connors.

She. Will. Slaughter. Us.

“Hey,” I smiled. My upper lip stuck to my teeth.

She noticed my flip-flops. “I guess you're not running the last leg,” she asked.

“Um…no.”

Her eyes flitted between me and Spencer. “I didn't see you at the meet this year.”

“I took some time off,” I said, guardedly. She knew about my dad.

“Tara had her best finish ever,” she gushed. “New provincial record for the one hundred metre. Did you read about it?”

“Missed that article,” I lied. Spencer crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to stand taller.

“I'm so happy for her,” she continued. “Tara's lived in your shadow long enough.”

I gritted my teeth, wanting to leave cleat marks all over her snotty little face. Usually I would harness this anger to my advantage by fuelling my passion to win the race, but since I wasn't running, all I could do was turn my back and pretend to disappear.

Scotty joined us, huddled by my side, not saying anything. One of the counsellors from Skylarker ushered Spencer to the start line. Scotty and I moved off to the side as the first cyclist came into view. The runner for Whispering Pines was tagged and flew up the course.

“Don't go out too fast,” I called out to Spencer. He licked his lips.

Kirk came up behind me with a towel around his shoulders. “Alicia is just around the corner,” he said. I fought the urge to hold him close and breathe in his smell of vanilla chai. He read my expression and put an arm around my shoulder. “Don't worry,” he whispered, “Spencer will do fine.”

Liam called out. He and Duff pushed through the crowd to stand beside us.

I watched Duff's dirt-caked hands make signs to Spencer, who frowned, and then nodded with a smile.

I was exhausted and still pissed off at Janine McInnis, but seeing the twins and the rest of the camp come out to support Spencer untwisted my stomach a bit. The guys were all in this together. Even after I was gone, they'd still look out for one another. Maybe this was what I was meant to do. Maybe this was worth getting fired for. I turned to Liam, almost tearing up. “What did Duff say?” I asked.

“‘Avoid large circles of dry leaves on the path,'” Liam said, in between deep breaths. “Oh man, we barely got it done.”

“I'll go find Ben,” Kirk said, rolling his eyes. He took off before I could grab him by the shoulders, promising to stay with me, and not end up stuck in a sinkhole somewhere.

A sudden cheer made me jump. Alicia came into view, grimacing as she flew toward her finish line. My heart squeezed up through my throat. I looked at Spencer, but no Jesse Owens quote came to me; my mind was blank. He took a deep breath and rubbed the charm between his thumb and finger. Then Alicia tagged him, and he was off and running.

“Wow,” Liam said. “We're in second place.”

Not for long, I thought. Skylarker's cyclist tagged Janine. She was in last place, but she could easily catch them. Taking Scotty and the twins with me, we backtracked and positioned ourselves at the five-kilometre mark, on the beach by the overturned canoes.

Tara came by first, breathing easily. She gave me a nice wave.

“Good job,” I said. “Now go step on some leaves.”

“Oh no!” Liam pointed in the distance. It was the runner for Whispering Pines. I checked the stopwatch. Spencer was three minutes off pace. At this point I was hoping for a personal best, but it was so hot today. If he'd tried to stay with Tara, that would have taken all his strength away.

I should have been the one running. I'd never been on this side of the race as a spectator before and the waiting was agony. I checked the stopwatch again, fumbling it so badly in my sweaty hands I almost dropped it.

Where the hell was he? Did he fall and twist his ankle? Or maybe he was stuck in a booby-trap?

I looked up at Cabin 4A. Suppose he just quit? We only trained for less than two weeks. I was a fool to think he'd take this race seriously. I can't believe I'd risked my job and any further time with Kirk to help out that little shit. With my jaw set, I started to march up the grassy slope when I heard Scotty scream.

He was beet red and sweaty, but Spencer was still running.

A miracle.

The surge of anger quickly disappeared. My legs carried me like I was flying. “Feet and lungs, Spencer,” I called out, running alongside him, “feet and lungs!”

He gave me a thumbs-up and then turned the corner, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I stared at the spot by the trees he disappeared through. I took a few deep breaths and pressed the stopwatch to my chest. The feeling was unexpected and overwhelming. My dad's presence was stronger than ever. It wasn't the running that brought him back to me; it was the coaching.

I took a shortcut to the finish through the soccer field. The runners would emerge from the trail, then do one lap before crossing the finish line. Both camps had brought substantial cheering sections, but the cupettes outdid themselves with several large signs.