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I Am Girl Power

Page 8

by Katie Cross


  “Shut. Up,” I muttered in between pants. The muscles in both my hands had started to cramp. I shook them out. One of my nails pulsed. I’d chipped it so deep it bled. JJ sat back and stared at the view. I straightened up, leaning back on my palms, and gazed over the mountains.

  “Oh. Wow.”

  “Yeah.” He pulled a long draw of water. “I know.”

  Fields of evergreen trees rippled below us, interspersed with bulwarks of stone. The sun hadn’t risen above the mountains yet, shedding folds of light on the ravines and cliffs across from us. Wispy strung-cotton clouds filled the wedge of cerulean sky. We loomed above Adventura, gazing down like nesting eagles. The folds of the mountain cradled us in their deep grooves. Standing on top of something made me feel powerful and alive in a way that made my blood buzz. Cocooned in my job and Midwest world, I’d forgotten how good it felt to be part of a mountain.

  “It’s incredible, isn’t it?” I breathed. “Some people are still asleep at home. And here we are … standing on top of the world.”

  “We’re the lucky ones,” he said. “We live here.”

  We sat close together, soaking in the majesty of the mountains until JJ broke the silence. He leaned back, scuffing his shoes on loose slate.

  “So, you spent some time with Mom last week. What do you think?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He stared into the distance, his jaw tight. “Something’s off. I’ve only been back from California for a month, but Mom and Dad are … different. The whole vibe is weird. Mark shrugged it off when I asked him. Said it wasn’t his business.”

  I swallowed, recalling with frightening clarity the fear in Mom’s eyes. The way she trembled when I hugged her. Her desperate need for privacy and connection all at the same time.

  “Define ‘weird.'” I chucked a rock off the ledge. “Mom and Dad used to dance to Neil Diamond in the kitchen, remember? When it comes to parents, ‘weird’ is subjective.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think they’re talking. Dad hardly ever comes around. Mom texts me all the time about the stupidest stuff. She tried to hide it, but when she found out you were going to come, she cried. I don’t know, Meg. Something is up.”

  My throat ached with the desire to tell him. Why should he be the only one who doesn’t know? But my promise to Mom held me back.

  “What if something were up?” I asked. “That doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. Right? I mean … what do you think it would even mean?”

  His nostrils flared. “I don’t know. The end of the family?”

  I recoiled. “What?”

  “If Mom and Dad were having marriage issues, everything would fall apart.”

  “How?”

  “They’re supposed to be the glue. Mom is always successful. Flight-nurse. Marathoner. Tri-athlete. She doesn’t fail at anything. What does it mean that she is—if my assumption is correct—failing the most important relationship of her life?”

  His words hit too close to something hot and painful inside me. It prickled up my throat like a moving porcupine. A thousand thoughts whirled through my mind at top speed. Was it failure? All I managed to say was, “No one is indomitable, JJ. She’d be furious if she knew you thought she was. That sets an expectation that’s almost impossible to maintain.”

  JJ swallowed, and I wondered what he wasn’t saying.

  “Are you more afraid of what it would mean for them, or for you?” I asked.

  He paused. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve been texting Dad. We’re planning on meeting up for lunch soon.”

  He shrugged, twisting his lips. For a moment, a flash of pain illuminated his eyes, then disappeared. I wondered if Dad had made room for JJ the way he’d made room for me.

  Another long silence passed. JJ fell into a brooding stare while I attempted to navigate the awkward waters of what I knew and he didn’t. No matter how I imagined a conversation that might comfort him, they all ended with me breaking my promise to Mom.

  I nudged JJ with my elbow. “I’m sure things will be fine,” I said. “Maybe they just need some space. They’ve been together forever, you know? They belong together.”

  “Yeah.” He twirled a leaf in his hand, then flicked it to the side. “Maybe.”

  “You always have Mark and me.”

  His eyes met mine. They’d hardened into olive-green steel but softened at the edges. “Yeah?” he asked with a wry grin.

  “Yeah. Always.”

  The intensity of the moment passed, and we turned back to staring at the mountains, seeking solace in the rocks and rills. From where we’d perched, I could just make out the pitch of my cabin roof, and right next to it, Justin’s.

  “What do you know about Justin?” I asked.

  “Everything.”

  “Really?”

  A quick grin, reminiscent of the old JJ, flashed across his face. “Just kidding. Uh … I know that he’s investing a lot of money—like more than anyone else—in a boys’ summer camp that may or may not fail.”

  “So did you.”

  “Right. He’s crazy.”

  I couldn’t disagree.

  “His grandfather died two-and-a-half weeks ago. He has a work ethic unlike anything I’ve ever seen and no family to speak of.”

  “His grandpa died?” I asked with a pang of compassion. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “Where are his parents?”

  JJ shrugged. “Dunno. Said he hardly knew them.”

  “Did his grandfather raise him?”

  “Yeah. He came back from the funeral the same day you returned.” He leaned back on his palms. His shoulders eased, and the tension in his face faded. “He had to stay for a little while, take care of some things on the estate.”

  “Estate?”

  “Yeah. His family’s loaded. Lives in this big mansion in California. He’s old money, I guess.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Me neither at first,” JJ said, wiping his hands on his pants. “He’s low key like that. He prefers being on his own. Kind of a wanderer. He invested in Adventura because then he could live in the mountains.” He paused. “Why do you ask? You gonna break up with Nathan and go for Justin?”

  I played it cool, remembering anew that my brothers didn’t have all the information. “Mostly curious. I can’t get a read on him.”

  “He’s a good guy.”

  “Hmm.”

  “How’s Nathan?”

  “Good,” I murmured, feeling the weight of his steady gaze. “Just got a promotion. Do you ever miss Stacey?”

  JJ didn’t seem as surprised by the question—or rapid change of subject—as I had expected.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I think so. But it’s hard to say. It’s been a long time since we broke up.” He paused, as if mentally tallying the time. “Four years?”

  “Is it her you miss?”

  He hesitated. “I don’t know. I miss knowing someone would be there at the end of the day. Sometimes I get lonely, and I miss her companionship then. But I don’t miss the lies and twists and cliffs of our time together. What about you?”

  “Me? What about me?”

  “Are you happy with Nathan?”

  I looked away. “It’s complicated.”

  “You broke up, didn’t you?”

  My gaze snapped back to his.

  “What?”

  He ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned. “Don’t try to hide it, Meg. I can read you like a book.”

  I harrumphed, and my shoulders slouched.

  “Cannot. What gave it away?”

  “Coming here.” He crossed one ankle over the other. “It seemed like you were running away from something, the way you called and said you wanted the job but wouldn’t go into details . You haven’t mentioned Nathan once, either. It’s not hard to figure out.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

  He shrugged. “Figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”
r />   I leaned into him. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. I’d missed his warm, calming touch. The shriveled part of my heart that had once belonged to Nathan let out a big sigh. It didn’t crinkle so much anymore.

  “Thanks,” I whispered. My appreciation encompassed so much, and I hoped he could sense it. He squeezed me tighter.

  “You don’t have to hide anything from us, Megara,” he said against my hair.

  “Thanks,” I said, closing my eyes. “For this climb. I needed it.”

  He squeezed my shoulders.

  “Anytime, sister. Anytime.”

  Chapter 8

  Hear Me Roar

  A warbling bird outside my cabin ushered in the second week of camp after a luxurious, lazy weekend at the waterfront with JJ and Mark. Forty campers raced through Adventura, smelling like sunscreen and sweat.

  Tuesday afternoon, Mark burst into the kitchen from the dining hall, his face streaked with sweat and dirt. His radio squawked.

  “I’ve already talked to Troy,” he said into the speaker. “Possible heat exhaustion. Nothing too serious yet. He’s got the kid in medical now, and we’re monitoring. Over and out.”

  He tossed both the radio and the clipboard on the island, then dropped to the floor and sprawled, spread eagle, with a groan.

  “Oh, man.” He threw an arm over his eyes. “What was I thinking? Why did I start a summer camp? Some kid just threw up on JJ at the climbing wall. Another kid won’t drink anything but Sprite. He’s dehydrated with possible heat exhaustion. And Sione found some kid in the biffy smoking a cigar he stole from his dad.”

  I grimaced. No matter how far away I went, I didn’t miss the vomit side of nursing. Trying to figure out how much chili and corn bread to make for dinner seemed easy in comparison to Mark’s ever-evolving job.

  “Yikes,” I said.

  “There’s so much to do,” Mark said, rubbing his forehead. “I’m not sure we’ll get it all done before skit night. Oh, this tile floor feels so cold.” He shivered in delight. “It’s amazing. I think I’ll take a nap.”

  I whirled around.

  “Did you say there’s a lot to do? Do you need help with something? I’m free for the next hour.”

  Mark popped one eye open, then sat up and leaned on one elbow. “Seriously?”

  “Yes! Anything to get out of the kitchen.”

  I grabbed the Clipboard of Power and swung it toward me. As usual, a grid of the day sat on top of a stack of papers. On the left, he’d scrawled a list of chores. I ran my finger along it, then stopped at the last one and tapped on it.

  “That. I’ll do that.”

  He climbed to his feet, peering at my choice. “You want to chop wood for the bonfire tonight?”

  “Yep.”

  “Have at it, little blister. Better you than me. The ax is in the storage shed behind the main office. The wood’s back there too. Don’t forget gloves. You don’t want to have a blister and be a blister.”

  He departed, guffawing at his own joke.

  With the high sun overhead, I changed into a pair of workout clothes, braided my hair, and headed for the woodpile.

  Fifteen minutes later, I hefted the axe in my hands. Seemed lighter than I’d expected. Two chips had broken out of the curve of the blade, which didn’t appear all that sharp. Probably wouldn’t make a difference. Chopping wood was more about muscle power than blade precision.

  I wrangled my first casualty onto a nearby stump with hack marks, then grabbed the ax. After a few practice swings, I took my first shot. The ax embedded itself halfway through the log. I lifted it and slammed it back down. The ax head slipped cleanly through. Three pieces of wood clattered to the ground. I tossed the logs into a nearby wheelbarrow and lugged the next victim over.

  No denying it—slamming an axe into something felt awesome.

  For the next twenty minutes, the physical jolt of swinging the ax and feeling it bite the logs, cleaving them into smaller chunks, sang through my arms. I let fly, enjoying the movement of my muscles and the satisfying thwack of the axe.

  Just as my arms began to tremble, the ax embedded itself partway into a log. I gripped the handle close to the head and tried to pump it loose. Nothing. I slammed the log onto the stump to force the axe through, but it didn’t budge.

  For ten minutes, I wrestled the wooden beast in every possible position. Breathless, I leaned back, wiping sweat off my forehead.

  “You gotta … be kidding,” I muttered. No inanimate object would defeat me.

  Shavings of wood, perfect for kindling, scattered the ground. I reached down to gather them and give my weary arms a rest. Just as I collected a neat handful, a splinter slid into my nail bed with finite, precise agony. I jerked my hand back.

  “Ow!”

  Just seeing the splinter embedded in my nail made my toes curl. My fingertips blanched white from squeezing them into my palm. I rolled my lips together to keep from screaming.

  “Hey, Meg. Nasty splinter?” a voice called from the trees. Justin stepped into view wearing a holey pair of pants flecked with wood stain, his face and neck sweaty. My hair had started to fall out of the braid in frizzing strands, pasting itself to the side of my neck as I worked. Every tiny bone in my hands seemed to tremble, radiating agony into my shoulders. Sweat dripped off my face and forearms.

  Of course, I thought with cynical amusement. You’ve seen my underwear. Why not see me scream like a banshee?

  “Yep,” I gasped. “Just a little one.”

  Panting from the pain, I turned my back to him. Did I remove the splinter in the safety of my cabin where I could scream into my pillow, or have Troy do it at medical? Something about stalking to the medical cabin seemed humiliating. No. I had to do this on my own. Or with Justin present, as he didn’t seem inclined to leave.

  He motioned to my hand with a nod.

  “You, uh, need some help?”

  “Nope. Got it.”

  He didn’t move, so I reached down and plucked the splinter out as if it happened every day. My nostrils flared as the wood slid free. It hurt almost as much coming out as it had going in. The nail pulsed, but soon the strength of the pain faded.

  “Burns, doesn’t it?” he asked, grinning.

  My nostrils flared. “Yep.”

  He studied me, then motioned to the half-finished log with a nod. “Need some help?”

  “Nope.” I snatched at the embedded axe. “Got it, thanks.”

  “Looks like it’s stuck.”

  “Nope. It’s good.”

  Justin shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels with a smirk as if to say show me what you got.

  Ignoring him, I clutched the ax handle in my trembling hands and pulled in a deep breath. I would win. This knotted, stingy piece of wood would not embarrass me in front of Justin, of all people. With patience, I finally worked the ax head free, stepped back, and set my teeth.

  All right, Megan, I thought. Give your anger wings.

  With Nathan’s face in the back of my mind, I let out a guttural, warrior-like call and circled the ax down, driving it deep into the wood. Using that momentum, I lifted the ax, log and all, and slammed it back down. Once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth slam, I gathered the last of my reserves.

  I will win. I tightened my grip. I will win.

  With one last, mighty swing, the axe broke through. Two pieces of knotty pine fell to the ground with dull thuds. My shoulders burned like a magma flow.

  Justin stared, eyes wide.

  “Do you need anything?” I asked, fiercely proud of myself.

  A slow grin spread across his face. He started to laugh. Low, at first, like thunder. It gained volume in his belly and then rolled out in the deepest laugh I had ever heard.

  The corners of my mouth twitched.

  “You should see yourself.” He wiped the corner of his eye. “Oh, Meg. You should see yourself. Good work. Good. Work.”

  He turned away, still chuckling.

/>   “I am woman.” I drove the axe into the stump. “Hear me roar.”

  The hot, soapy dishwater turned my fingertips into raisins the next morning. My wounded fingernail stung for the first five minutes of washing and then went numb.

  Behind me, the dull thud of footsteps echoed through the dining hall. The kitchen door swung open and closed again. I set the last dish on a towel to air dry and wiped my hands off on my apron. When I turned around, no one was there.

  Odd.

  I reached behind me and undid my apron strings, tossing the apron onto a hook on the wall. The familiar hint of vetiver lingered in the air. I pulled a paper calendar off the fridge and studied it. Sandwiches for lunch. Again.

  Feeling a bit more adventurous than usual, I reached for Grandma’s recipe book. As I skimmed the entries, my phone rang from the top of the fridge. I answered while perusing a Naked Black Forest Cake recipe.

  “This is Megan,” I said into the phone.

  Baker’s chocolate? I thought, staring at the list. How is that different from regular chocolate?

  “Megan Bailey,” said a low, feminine voice. “This is Jodie Renner from EveryHealth Corporation.”

  My heart leaped into my throat. I slammed the book shut.

  “Jodie the nurse recruiter?”

  “Yes. I hope you don’t mind, but I pulled your phone number from our old employment records.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t mind.”

  “I thought this would be easier than email. Can you talk?”

  I darted to the swinging door and peered into the dining hall. Empty. Only the fans rotated overhead. Outside, campers and counselors chattered around each other. The pantry door was closed. I let out a long breath and stood by the back door, just in case someone strolled up.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I’m happy to hear that you’re interested in a job with EveryHealth Corporation. Karen and I have been friends for years. She speaks very highly of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “My job as nurse recruiter is to find the right person for the right job. EveryHealth is committed to their patients—we only hire the best. Your resume is impressive, Megan. I think we can find a position for you.”

  “That’s good to hear. I’m mostly interested in flight nursing.”

 

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