Girl on the Run (3 page)

“A
re you new?”

I greeted the face and muscled body that went with the voice. Football star, I guessed, with a smile that a sponsor would pay millions for.

“Um, yeah,” I said, pulling the strap of my duffel bag over my shoulder.

“I'll show you where to register.” He offered his hand. “I'm Devin.”

“Thanks. I'm Jesse.” My fingers felt small in his handshake.

He led me to a long table set up under a temporary canopy. There were a few people already in line in front of us. Kids were all over the place, randomly screaming and shouting.

A red T-shirt caught my eye. Grandma's mud-slinging scoundrel ran from a screaming girl who'd thrown her backpack on the ground. A pile of terrified snakes zigzagged out of the backpack and across the dusty yard. I fought the urge to climb into Devin's arms and crawl to the top of his head.

“Oh, great,” Devin said. “He's starting early this year.”

My feet danced in place anticipating a snake spiraling up my calf. “The kid in the red T-shirt?” I asked.

“Yeah, Spencer. He's only twelve, and already a legend. Hey, I thought you said you were new?” he smiled.

“Just good at reading kids,” I lied.

The only thing I was good at reading was the sports page. We traded the usual information while inching to the front of the line. He was a receiver on his school football team
,
right in the middle of five brothers, and was returning for his third summer at Krystal Lake.

“Three years,” I said. “You must like it here.”

“Sure. The lake's always warm, the kids are mostly good, and the counsellors keep getting prettier every year.”

I smiled and looked down at my flip-flops. “I wasn't sure what to expect,” I confessed, feeling a new kind of nervousness. “Hopefully, I'll have a fun summer.”

“I'll do my best to make that happen.”

Receiver? This guy was more like a quarterback. I couldn't wait to see what the next play would be. Could it happen that fast? Was this the start of getting Old Jesse back? I stood grinning at him.

Someone cleared their throat. “Name?”

I peeled my eyes away from Devin. “Sorry?” I said.

“Name…please.” The voice sounded bored with an impatient edge.

He sat behind the table covered in paperwork, staring at a long list of names. A tanned hand pushed back a shaggy black wave of hair, and he looked up. His eyes were like the milk chocolate kisses that Grandma eats while watching the soaps in the afternoon.

He stared at me hard. It felt like he was scanning my face for intelligence. “Name?” he asked again.

“Jessica,” Devin answered for me.

“Jessica,” Mr. Chocolate Kisses repeated, looking back down. “What's your last name, Jessica?”

I finally found my voice. “It's Jesse,” I said.

He flipped through the pages and hit me with those eyes again. “There's no Jessica Jesse on my list.”

“My last name is Collins,” I said.

“Jessica Collins,” he repeated. His pen went down the page, touching each name, searching for mine.

“Kirk!” The Cupcake walked up and stood beside me.

His eyes stayed on the list. “What, Lacey?” he asked.

She put one hand on her waist and stuck out the opposite hip. “Why do we keep letting that Spencer brat come back to camp, if all he's going to do is terrorize my girls?”

“Because his dad pays lots of money.”

“I thought it was because his dad owns the camp,” Devin said.

Kirk glanced up and noticed Devin for the first time. “Thanks, dude,” he said. “See if anymore newbies need your help.”

Devin gave a quick smile and disappeared through the crowd, leaving me alone with the Ken and Barbie look-alikes.

“Hey, Lacey,” Kirk said, pointing to her clipboard. “Is there a Jessica Collins on your sheet?”

“No,” I said. “My name is just Jesse.” His gaze flicked to me for a moment, then back to Lacey.

“Hmm.” Lacey tapped a pink fingernail down the page. “Nope.”

He ran a hand through that shaggy dark hair again, and leaned back in his chair. “Well, Just Jesse,” he said. “It seems there's a mix-up.”

Kirk was quickly becoming the last black jelly bean at the bottom of the jar. And nobody ever took the last black jelly bean.

His smug attitude was the last thing I needed. “Actually,” I said, pointing to the paper, reading upside down. “That's my name right there. Jesse Collins, Cabin 4A.” I noticed the “A” had been scratched in. None of the other cabins had letters assigned to them. A nervous buzz began in the pit of my stomach. What the hell did the “A” stand for?

Kirk didn't even look down at my name. “Yes, it is,” he said, “but Cabin 4A is part of the boys' section.”

Uh-oh.

“Boys' section?” I asked.

He took his stupid pen and tapped the paper for effect. “I guess with your name, they assumed you were a guy.”

I wanted to punch him in the milk chocolate eye. Lacey snickered behind her clipboard. My ears burned. How could this happen? My high school guidance counsellor had filled out the application forms with me. I pictured myself in her office.

“Jesse,” she smiled. “With your athletic record and experience lifeguarding at the pool last summer, you're a shoo-in.” I remember the papers were scattered all over her desk, and when the phone rang, she spilled her coffee. She answered the call then put her hand over the receiver. “Just sign the bottom,” she whispered to me. “I'll fill out the rest.”

Oh crap.

My stomach felt like it should be lying on the ground between my flip-flops. Grandma said mistakes make the best stories, but I had a feeling I wouldn't be the one enjoying this particular saga. Why had I ever come here? Was it too late to change my mind?
God, I'm so pathetic, I can't even make it through the first hour!

A crowd of impatient campers was building up behind me. My knees started to shake. “Can't you assign me to a new cabin?” I asked.

“It's not that easy,” he said. “That would leave us one counsellor short. We're overbooked as it is. Cabin 4A is usually the nurse's office, but we had to stick the extra kids plus
you
in there.”

He acted like this was my fault, and that I was the one who had to find the solution. He stared back with those milk chocolate eyes, waiting for my answer. My thumbnails made indentations on my palms and my toes gripped the edge of my flip-flops.

I may have buried her under layers of guilt, but Old Jesse, the bulldog, was still there. “I'm sure the supervisor can figure something out,” I finally said.

Kirk stood up. Way up. He must have been at least six foot five. I had to tilt my head upwards to keep eye contact—something I'm not used to doing. “
I'm
the head counsellor,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

I took a deep breath, and it hurt.

Feet and lungs, Jesse.

I cringed as my heart pounded against my ribs. I blinked a few times trying to clear my head. What would Grandma do?

Nobody puts Baby in the corner.

I straightened my posture, trying to match his frame. “I see only one solution,” I said. “I have to take it.”

He stared back, unflinching.

Whoa, he was good.

“Is that going to be a problem?” I asked.

“You want to be in charge of four twelve-year-old boys?”

Four kids? That was nothing. I was expecting at least eight. Four is easy. Four I could handle with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back. “What choice is there?”

I could see him weighing the options. Lacey flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, bored with my problem. He looked behind me, scanning the impatient kids waiting in line. He met my stare. It was some kind of Wild West showdown. Whoever blinks first loses. He blinked first.

Ha!

He put a small check by my name and had me initial as well.

Who's the loser now, milk chocolate eyes?

“Are you ready to get started?” he asked.

I did a mock salute. “Aye, aye, master corporal commander head counsellor guy sir.” The sarcasm flowed easily. It wasn't like crossing the finish line first, but still, I won.

I won. I won. I won.

He pointed across the lawn. “Great,” he said, sounding bored. “Meet one of your charges.”

I looked over my shoulder and my heart deflated. I lost.

C
abin 4A was nestled between the similar but larger cabins 4 and 5. All the buildings were situated on a grassy incline towards the lake. If I wasn't so terrified, I would have appreciated the view. The narrow beach was mostly empty except for a row of colourful canoes. A wharf of sun-bleached wood stretched out into the still, blue lake.

Spencer the mud-slinging scoundrel and I stood on the porch. A plague that read “Nurse's Office” had been covered up with a white sheet of paper with “Cabin 4A” written in black marker.

“What are you waiting for?” he snapped. “Do you want me to carry you across the threshold?”

I tugged on my duffel bag strap. “No,” I said. “You first.”

He pushed through the screen door. His red hair was so bushy it added a few inches to his height, bringing him to my shoulders. Without hesitating, he walked over to the bed farthest from the door and threw down his bag, claiming the lower bunk.

The rustic room had two sets of bunk beds pushed up against the walls with two large windows in front, giving a view of the lake.
L. L. Bean meets IKEA
, I thought. Kirk hadn't been kidding. The old nurse's office still had a medicinal smell.

“This is nice,” I said, trying to sound calm and in control. My knees began to shake imagining the bunk beds filling up with other Spencers. I took an uneasy glance over my shoulder, but no one else had followed us.

“It's so small,” he said. “This sucks. Are we the only ones staying here?” Under the annoying whiny twang I could hear the panic in his voice. Inside my head I secretly agreed. Me and Spencer playing Monopoly on rainy days was enough to bring up my breakfast.

“Well,” I began, determined not to let his pissy attitude drag me down, “think of it as being an exclusive cabin.”

He gave me an unimpressed grunt. “Whatever,” he said, beginning to unpack. He was a walking advertisement with his high end sneakers, designer clothes, and expensive watch. This kid was rich. He took out an iPhone 5 and tossed it on the bed.

Seriously? I pictured my scraped-up two-year-old Samsung collecting dust on my dresser back home. I already disliked this kid. “I didn't think you were allowed electronics,” I said.

He didn't even bother to look at me. “Only if they catch you.”

Here we go,
I thought.
The first hurdle
. Even though I'd turned my back on track, the training was ingrained deeply. I was taught to attack the first hurdle; it sets the pace for the rest of the race.

I dropped my duffel bag and held out my hand, hoping he couldn't see it shaking. “You have to give that to me,” I said.

He stopped unpacking and stared back at me. It was the Wild West all over again. I didn't flinch, but neither did he.

A draw.

“You have to give that to me,” I repeated.

He stayed perfectly still, not even blinking. “Or else…?”

I had to think fast. What would motivate this brat? I pictured Devin leering down at him with his arms folded across that massive chest, but it didn't seem like my receiver would be showing up. Oh god, Grandma, I thought.

Totally embarrassed I would ever stoop to this, I covered my eyes with my hand and did a few fake sniffles. “Please,” I sobbed. “I'll get in trouble. I can't be fired. I really need the money. And in the car, on the way here, my boyfriend broke up with me and I…I just started my period.”

I waited, hiding behind my cupped hands, making the sobs louder. But Spencer stayed quiet. I cried a little longer, wondering how long this was supposed to take. I peeked at him through my fingers.

He was staring at me with a tired expression. “Done?” he asked, unfazed by my performance. My hands fell away from my face. “That was so lame,” he said, one corner of his mouth curling up.

I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my white shorts. “Fine. Whatever.” I took a few steps back. “I'm not wasting my breath, I don't care. I bet you'll be kicked out by tomorrow, anyway.” Spencer only seemed to grin more at that statement, like he was enjoying a private joke. Then I remembered his dad owned the frickin' camp.

There was nothing I could do. I quickly turned as real tears started to build up, ashamed this little jerk could make me cry.

“Hey!” Spencer said.

I turned around, my hands still in the front pockets of my shorts. The iPhone hit me in the chest and fell to the floor. We both stared down at the cracked screen. “You loser,” he said. “You broke it.”

“
I
broke it?”

“What are you, stupid or something? Can't you even catch?” He stooped down to pick it up, but I was fast and managed to grab it out of his hand and tuck it into my pocket.

“I can't catch with my face,” I said. “Besides, it's only a cracked screen.” He stared back at me, trying to size me up. I noticed his ears were a nice shade of crimson. A little thrill ran through me, knowing I was pissing him off. Finally he realized I wasn't giving it back, and judged it wasn't worth the bother. I guessed a kid that rich was probably used to getting broken gadgets upgraded all the time. He'd probably have a brand new iPhone 6 waiting for him at home after camp.

He mumbled something I couldn't exactly make out, then put his attention back to his stuff.

I opened the only other door in the cabin and found my bedroom—well, what was probably the nurse's closet, actually. The twin bed practically filled the entire space. A clipboard was hanging from a nail in the wall. I scanned the activity schedule: archery, sailing, canoe, kayak, hiking, soccer, swimming…

God, the schedule went on and on. Thankfully, I noticed, running wasn't listed.

I closed the door behind me and dropped my heavy bag on the floor. I crawled across the bed to the open window. A warm breeze scented with pine blew through the screen. I smiled and relaxed—just a bit.

There were three long drawers under my twin bed. I began to unpack. The top layer was mostly T-shirts and shorts (what else do I ever wear?), with socks and underwear crammed into any free space.

As I pulled out more items, I found some surprises. The little red diary I'd been using as a prop to ease Mom's mind had been sent with me. I guess the pamphlet was big on encouraging your depressed teen to write a daily journal. I took the Book of Lies and tossed it aside. No need to keep up that charade.

There was also a hair straightener and extra makeup, along with several other bags labelled in Chloe's handwriting. HOT DATE. DANCE. BONFIRE. MIDNIGHT STROLL.

Ah, my ensembles.

Devin's face came to mind. I placed those precious bags in their own drawer. I knew the other three boys would be arriving soon, so I started grabbing things and throwing them on the bed. When the bag was almost empty, I took inventory of the pile.

“Grandma,” I groaned. She had packed four boxes of condoms. Four boxes! There was a note.

Dear Jesse,

I asked the nice pharmacist at the drug store what would be best for a smart girl who should be prepared for anything. Feel free to share them with your friends. They might not have a grandma who loves them.

P.S. Did you know you can buy Victoria's Secret online? Chloe
helped pick them out.

I didn't look at all of them, but the thong decorated with s'mores and the one stamped with
Who's Up For a Weenie Roast
made me laugh. I dropped the new underwear in the drawer along with the four boxes of what would probably become water balloons.

Only one item remained. It was a small, flat black box.

I lifted the cover. It was my wraparound necklace. Tiny colourful beads threaded all the way around, with a dime-sized silver disc in the middle. It had been a gift from Mom and Dad after I broke my very first provincial record, when I was fifteen. We joked that the charm was my first medal. Since then, before every event, I always rubbed the silver between my finger and thumb for luck.

But, like my runners, I had hidden this. Or so I thought. There was no note from Mom, but it wasn't needed. For luck,
it said to me.

Voices caught my attention. I zipped up the duffel bag, still full of junk, and shoved it in the corner. I wiped my face a few times, then came out of my room and saw two boys standing on the porch.

“Is this Cabin 4A?” a fair-haired boy asked, looking through the screen door.

“Yup,” I said, running over like an anxious hostess. He walked in, followed by his brother—clearly an identical twin. They shared the same short, spiky, blond hair, thin arms and legs, and blue eyes. Disastrous scenes from
The Parent Trap
played in my mind.

“Hi,” I said, reaching out my sweaty hand. “I'm Jesse.”

“I'm Liam,” said the first brother, ignoring my hand. “And this is Duff.” Duff only nodded. Wordlessly, they chose the bunk beds opposite Spencer.

Spencer ran a hand through his mop of red hair and extended a fist to Liam. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Liam replied, reaching out, touching fists.

“Oh, do you guys already know each other?” I asked.

“No.” Spencer frowned at me, then looked at the twins and rolled his eyes.

The twins unpacked, and fell into an easy alliance with Spencer. A quick comment about video games I had never heard of stimulated five minutes of commentary from Liam, peppered with critiques by Spencer. Duff, it seemed, was the quiet twin.

After a few moments, they noticed I was still in the room.

“Oh,” Liam said. “I didn't know we had our own maid.”

I put my hands on my hips, and gave him my best Lara Croft, Tomb Raider impression. “I'm your counsellor,” I said.

“What?” Liam dropped his grin. Duff tapped his brother on the shoulder.

“She's the counsellor,” Liam said to Duff, making gestures with his hands. Duff answered him with quicker sign language.

Liam nodded to his brother. “Yeah, I know.”

“What did he say?” Spencer asked Liam.

“If he knew it was going to be coed, he would have asked for the hot blond with the ponytail.”

Spencer gave me a crooked smirk. “If you leave, do we get another counsellor?”

“Why would I leave?” I asked. Although secretly I rejoiced at the idea.

Spencer remained quiet, but his expression made me uncomfortable. I retreated to my little room, leaving the snickering behind me. I checked my watch. Only twenty minutes on the job and I was already in last place. My eyes fell on the black box.

For luck.

I put the necklace on and faced the small oval mirror on the wall. The necklace was short, almost a choker, perfect for running since it never bounced or tangled. My finger automatically touched the dangling silver disc. I was no longer the track star, but the new girl, ready for a summer of freedom from nosy stares and gossip.

But no matter what happened at Kamp Krystal Lake, I couldn't quit. Chloe was expecting Old Jesse. I had to figure out how to pull that off by the end of the summer. This job was a chance for me to create a new life, even if that meant faking it every single second.

“I can do this,” I whispered to my reflection.