Summer on the Short Bus (7 page)

“Suck it up, huh? So you really were looking for a way to escape earlier.”

“Uh . . .”

“Relax, I'm not judging. This isn't the kind of place most people can just drop right into and feel at home. This is my fourth summer here, and I still have my moments where I feel a little out of place.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he says. “We all do. You'll have to ask Colin about Scotty Marshall sometime. That is a perfect example of how crazy things can be around here. I swear that was one of the funniest things I've ever seen.”

“Well?”

“Nah”—he shakes his head—“I can't. Colin has earned the right to tell that story. Just make sure you ask him.”

I have no idea what he's talking about, but a sudden image of Colin and his huge smile drifts through my mind. “Okay,” I say. “I'll ask him.”

Our conversation about Colin dies out like a forgotten campfire, and before long, we find ourselves in a moment of silence. Considering we've only known each other a few hours, this should probably feel awkward, but it doesn't. It's strangely comfortable.

“What's in the bag?” I ask, peeking over him.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you dinner.” He reaches into
the brown sack, producing a triangular shaped piece of tinfoil. He carefully unfolds the wrapping and presents two slices of pizza. “Friday nights are all about pizza and movies.”

I don't typically eat in front of guys I'm hoping to kiss (another of Katie's
Cosmo
rules), but considering the only thing I've eaten all day were Pete's soggy graham crackers and some peppermints, I don't hesitate to dive in.

“Wow,” I say, pausing only long enough to breathe. “This is so good. Where'd you get it?”

“Sam made it. He cooks all the food here.”

I nearly choke. “Seriously? Sam made this? Sam who doesn't speak in complete sentences?”

“Yep”—he nods, trying not to laugh as I manhandle my dinner—“he's an incredible chef. He studied at a culinary institute in New York.”

“Sam?”

“Yes, Sam. Hard to believe?”

“Well, yeah actually. It is. Isn't there something, I mean, obviously there's something different. . . .”

“Sam's autistic,” he says, the word rolling off his tongue like he says it every day. “He's sort of like Rain Man. He's got an exceptional memory, but not for everything. Well, not for most things, really. When it comes to cooking or anything to do with Madonna, the guy's like an encyclopedia. But everything else goes in one ear and out the other.”

“That sucks.”

“Eh, I don't know. I think it's a lot like Maui. It depends on who you ask.”

“Huh?” I grunt, popping the last of the pizza into my mouth. “How do you figure?”

“He doesn't know any different. It would suck for us because we know what a normal life is like, but he doesn't. It's just how he's always been. I think it's the same thing with the campers. Other than Aidan, they've always been the way they are.”

“Are they all um . . . what did you call it?”

“Autistic? No. None of them are, actually. The kids here either have a Down's syndrome or cerebral palsy diagnosis—and they're all high-functioning at that. There are special camps specifically for kids with autism since their needs are very different. They need lots of structure and really specific routines. We're too laid-back for them.”

“Laid-back. Right,” I mumble, though not as quietly as planned, because he laughs at me. “What?” I say.

“Nothing. We better get going if we want to make it down the hill with some light. The movie starts at eight sharp, and I'm guessing you might want to clean up first.”

I glace at my arms and legs, then immediately cover my face with equally dirty hands. All this time I've been sitting here looking like one of Brad and Angelina's rescue projects.

“Don't worry, you're allowed to get messy at camp. Nobody
will think you're any less beautiful.”

I fight back a nervous giggle as his compliment ricochets through my brain. Maybe eight days in hell won't be as bad as I thought.

Quinn offers his hand to help me up. I'm not surprised to find that it's warm and carries that same electric current I felt earlier. I take a breath as he pulls me to my feet, and then I realize that this is the perfect moment. The sun is dropping in the distance, the trees are casting long shadows across the ground, and the warm summer breeze is blowing my hair. Now he just needs to kiss me.

My heart begins to race as he squeezes my hand before narrowing his gaze on my mouth.
Cosmo
would say we're moving too fast, but I don't give a crap about big sister advice. I allow my eyes to drift shut, prepping myself for what is bound to be the best first kiss ever, when he says, “You've got a little pizza sauce right here.”

My eyes flutter open. “What?”

“Right here.” He dabs at my cheek with the same hand I had been holding seconds before. “It was so good you were saving some for later?”

I feel my cheeks warm with embarrassment as I scrub at the leftover sauce. “Thanks,” I say with false amusement. “I guess I'm a bigger mess than I realized.”

“Yeah, maybe you are,” he says, leaning close enough so I can see my reflection in his eyes. “But that's when life starts getting good, right? When it's messy.”

SEVEN

“T
here's no way I can do this,” I whisper to Fantine the next morning. “I'm supposed to be their counselor and I don't have a clue how to communicate with them. They all sound like they've swallowed their tongues. And what's with that kid, Trevor? His left eye points in a completely different direction than the right one. It's creepy!”

She rolls her eyes while shimmying her long toned legs into a pair of cutoffs. “Take a breath already. You heard what Rainbow said last night. Since battle of the bands isn't until the last night of camp, you don't have to start rehearsals right away. You'll tag along with me for a few days, get to know everybody, and then we'll incorporate the show into their schedules. You'll have tons of time to get it all worked out—it's no big deal. Besides, I think you did pretty good last night.”

I think back momentarily to the chaos that was the night before. After Quinn returned me to my bunk, I took a quick shower, changed clothes, swiped my lashes for good measure, and joined everyone at the mess hall for movie night.

Rainbow cornered me the second I stepped foot on the cracked
linoleum floor.

“I wasn't able to reach your father,” she said in a quiet, yet firm voice. “According to your housekeeper, he's out of the country until a week from tomorrow. Since you don't have another legal guardian who can give me permission to let you leave, you'll have to stay.”

Well, there's a news flash, Anderson Cooper.

The campers may have been too preoccupied with their microwave popcorn to notice our conversation, but it definitely didn't get past my fellow counselors. I turned my back to them for more privacy. “I guess I don't have a choice then, do I?”

“Does this mean you'll give it a shot?”

I looked sadly at my flip-flopped feet. My once-beautiful toes looked like I'd taken a jackhammer to them. And thanks to some blisters from my seldom worn Asics, each pinkie toe was sporting a shimmery red Bieber Band-Aid. It was all so sad. And yet, there I was, actually agreeing to do it.

“I guess,” I finally said. “But I'm still planning to call my dad the second he's back in town.”

A smile spread across her speckled face, and for a moment I thought she might cry. “I'll let the rest of the team know what you've decided. I have a good hunch you'll want to stay.”

“Don't hold your breath.”

Rainbow disappeared into the kitchen with an unsettling spring in her step, while I stood completely dumbfounded, wondering what the hell I'd just done. Colin finally broke me from my fog
when he stood in front of the group and announced that the movie of our night was the original
Karate Kid
. (There was an original?) I selected a spot on a fuzzy green pillow next to Fantine's blue one, praying that Quinn would occupy the other side and the campers would stay at least five arms' lengths away.

That lasted for all of four seconds. . . .

“Chirp, chirp! Where is Cricket? Chirp, chirp!” Claire suddenly appeared by my side, crouching in a position I wasn't certain she'd ever get out of. “Quinn said you will sit with me.”

“What?”

She leaned forward and whispered right against my ear. “Quinn said you will sit with me.”

I jerked back. “No, um, you must have misunderstood—” Before I could assure her that sitting anywhere near me was not an option, she plopped her enormous, disproportionate body onto the other half of my pillow. She proceeded to tell me,
again
, how much she loved Robert Pattinson, and that even though her parents assured her otherwise, she was pretty sure vampires actually did exist.

Trying to ignore her, I searched the room for Quinn. I found him sitting on a metal folding chair with his feet crossed at his ankles and a devious smile resting on his otherwise perfect face.

“What the hell?” I mouthed, raising my hands.

His only response was an exaggerated shrug.

I was about to return the middle finger salute he gave me
earlier in the day, when a heavy poke on my shoulder forced me to turn back to Claire.

“What now?” I said.

“Meredith doesn't like Edward.”

“Meredith? Who the hell is Meredith?”

“Her,” Claire says, motioning behind me.

I craned my neck over my right shoulder and nearly shrieked when I found the wheel-chaired, Hannah Montana stalker just inches from my face.

“Mom saaaaaays vampires aren't reeeeal,” Meredith sputtered. “Are they reeeeal, Cricket?”

“Chirp! Chirp!” Claire added. “Are they, Cricket?”

Both girls broke into a fit of laughter, while I turned to Fantine, hoping she would offer me some sort of salvation. Like maybe a rock to the head.

“Looks like you've got some new friends,” she said, making no attempt to hide her amusement.

“Can't you move them? Or roll them somewhere? This is a huge room, is there nowhere else they can sit?”

Fantine motioned her head back toward the pair who were getting even more comfortable in their respective seats.
My
seat. “I think they're pretty happy where they are. Besides, they're both in love with Zac Efron over there. He tells them to sit with you, they're gonna do it.”

I looked beyond her and found that Quinn had moved from
the folding chair to a black beanbag just a few feet away. Sitting Indian style on his right side was the black kid with superthick glasses I saw climbing off the bus, his crutches a few feet away on the floor. On his left, squatting like he was hoping to lay an egg, was the kid I only remembered as the Drooler.

The Drooler got to sit beside Quinn, and I was stuck with my new BFFs. WTF?

I edged to the corner of my cushion with my eyes fixed on the screen, and silently prayed for the gates of hell to open up and take me already.

Just as Quinn said, the movie started rolling at eight on the dot, but it took at least fifteen minutes before the Wonder Twins beside me finally shut up and stopped laughing. Other than random outbursts of “balls,” “cock,” or “piss” by a red-haired boy named Chase, the room was virtually silent. It wasn't until the final scene, when Daniel-san did his famous crane kick to defeat the sexy Cobra Kai bully, when the gates of hell actually did come flying open.

Claire saw me sucking back tears, a reaction I'm sure everyone has the first time they see that movie, and felt the need to share my sentiments with the entire room.

“Cricket loves Daniel-san, Cricket loves Daniel-san!” She was singing at the top of her lungs, hopping around like a frog with broken legs. I was half a breath away from telling her to shut her crazy pie-hole, when Meredith and her ten-thousand-pound wheelchair rolled over my hand.