I Am Girl Power

by Katie Cross

  Silly Megan. Buttercream wins every time.

  I yanked the fridge open while texting. We’re feeding 50 campers and 20 staff. Assume 3 hot dogs per male. 200 enough?

  Yep. Mark alone can polish off 5 with chili.

  Fresh fruit?

  Nice try. How about potato chips?

  Already bought, I replied, feeling smug. And a triple recipe of potato salad.

  You are a wise woman.

  I’m still setting out fresh fruit.

  I grinned and set the phone aside. “Gonna be ready, blister?” Mark asked, speeding through the kitchen, a ring of keys jangling on his hip. “It’s going to be amazing. And complete chaos. Prep yourself.”

  I gave him a thumbs-up, but he’d already left. I stood at the top of the kitchen, surveying my kingdom in anticipation. Three sheet cakes to whip up, frost, decorate, and cut. Potatoes and eggs to boil, peel, and cut. Hot dogs to assemble into a cooler. Fruit to slice. Lemonade to perfect. And, above all, watermelon to chill and then chop. I tied my apron strings in a confident, certain knot.

  “Happy Fourth of July,” I said with a grin and grabbed a bag of flour. “Chef Megan is in the house.”

  That afternoon, campers scampered through the open meadow like chipmunks on caffeine. They swooped around with sparklers, trying to stab each other. Behind them sprinted harried counselors, desperate to avoid burns or flesh wounds.

  I tossed a stack of paper plates on the end of the main picnic table. Food filled every open spot. I gazed at one of three perfectly frosted sheet cakes. On top, strawberries and blueberries formed the stripes of the American flag. To my relief, each cake had emerged from the oven fully cooked without a brown spot in sight. Maybe the stove was patriotic. Or my experiment with turning the cakes every seven minutes had paid off.

  Sione, Justin, and Hollis conspired near the picnic table, speaking in hushed tones and glancing furtively at Mark. They held red solo cups filled with a tart but sweet lemonade.

  “Our best bet is to hide firecrackers outside the outhouse and light the fuse when Mark is inside. He did that to me last year,” Justin said.

  “What about putting poppers underneath the toilet seat so when he sits down they all pop?” Sione asked.

  Justin shook his head. “Risky. Someone could go in before him. Also—do you want to be the one that lifts that toilet seat?”

  Sione grimaced.

  “There’s always the classic of lighting a chain of firecrackers and throwing them into his cabin.” Hollis laughed as if he’d told a joke. “Hurts every time.”

  “You’ll have to do something more unique than that,” I said, flicking a pine needle off the table. Sione hooked a beefy arm around my neck and reeled me in.

  “What do you have in mind, girl power?”

  “Something original. Something he’s never seen before.”

  Justin’s eyes narrowed. “That’s impossible. Mark has always been the prank champion. He knows all of them.”

  “Something without fireworks,” I said. “He’s expecting them, so he’ll be on guard.”

  “But it’s the Fourth of July.” Hollis motioned around with a sweep of his arm. “Of course we have to go with the theme.”

  I shook my head. “I’m telling you—he’ll be expecting it.”

  “She has a point,” Justin said. “We need to take him by surprise.”

  “We could tape all his stuff to the ceiling.”

  “Put a fog horn under his bed so it sounds when he lays down.”

  They tossed ideas back and forth while I studied Mark. He played hacky sack with a group of five campers. The Clipboard of Power swung in his arm. He never lost sight of it.

  Or let go of it.

  “Or,” I drawled, “you could do something with the Clipboard of Power.”

  All three grinned.

  Hollis lifted a hand for a high five, which I supplied. “That’s it,” he said. “That’s the one. We’re going to mess with the Clipboard of Powah.”

  The radio on Justin’s hip crackled. JJ’s voice echoed from Mark, Justin, and Sione’s nearby radios.

  “Hey, gladiator, is Megan nearby?” JJ asked.

  Justin pulled the radio off his belt. “Yeah,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to both of you.”

  JJ’s carefully controlled tone caught my attention. Justin met my gaze. “Where?”

  “Staff tents. Oh, bring your Jeep keys.”

  Justin fell into step with me.

  “On our way.”

  “Do your thing, gladiator.” Hollis gestured between him and Sione. “We got this.”

  “Something happened,” I said, breaking into a jog. “Or he would have said why he wanted us over the radio.”

  “Any chance this is a prank?” he asked.

  “Yep. But we have to be sure.”

  Ten heavy canvas tents raised on wooden platforms littered the forest south of my cabin. JJ didn’t need to be more specific when he said staff tents. I heard muffled groans as we approached and followed the sounds.

  “JJ?”

  “Over here!”

  Justin and I arrived on the scene to find Troy lying on his back, his mangled right arm resting on his stomach. A broken bone in his wrist protruded against his skin, turning it white. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He clenched his teeth together with a moan of pain.

  “Not a joke,” Justin muttered.

  “Nice work, Troy.” I dropped to my knees at his side. “What happened?”

  JJ bit his bottom lip. “We were, uh, debating who could climb higher up the tree. Technically, Troy won.” His gaze darted to the fractured bone. “And lost.”

  “We need to splint it and get him to the ER. JJ, leave me your radio. Go to the medical cabin and find something to splint it with. Justin, discreetly tell Mark what happened and then bring your Jeep as close as you can.”

  Like insects in the light, they scattered. While I attempted to make Troy comfortable and performed a quick assessment of the injury, the sounds of the celebration rang in the background. A minute later, Mark jogged up.

  “Justin just told me. Oh, man,” he said, grimacing. “Troy, that looks terrible. Kind of awesome, but really terrible.”

  Troy swallowed, his breathing strained. “Thanks,” he muttered, screwing his eyes shut.

  JJ returned. He and Mark supported Troy while I splinted the broken arm to his chest. He paled while I secured it with a gentle knot. Seconds later, Justin pulled up on the other side of the trees, his tires crunching on the gravel.

  “All right, Troy,” I said, standing. “Let’s get you to the ER.”

  After making Troy as comfortable as possible, I reached to pull the Jeep door closed. Mark grabbed my arm. I met his intent hazel eyes.

  “Hurry back, little blister,” he said. “You’re Adventura’s new medical officer now.”

  Chapter 15

  A Little Breather

  I stood at the window of the hospital waiting room a couple of hours later. In the background, a listless TV droned a news report. The quiet bustle of the hospital provided a soothing medical landscape. I sank into the familiarity again with relief.

  “Thought I’d find you here.”

  A light tap on the door startled me. Mom filled the doorway wearing scrub pants and a plain t-shirt. Her badge hung from a lanyard around her neck.

  “Hey,” I said, turning around. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just stopping by really quick to say hi. Mark texted me. I’m filling in at the ICU tonight. Where’s Troy?”

  “Went to surgery twenty minutes ago. Justin left to grab us some food. Are you all right?” I peered closer. What I originally thought was a ponytail was actually a short bob, cropped close to her head. Feather-like brunette strands lay in wisps around her face. “Did you … did you cut off your hair?”

  A wan smile crossed her lips.

  “I did. You know what they say about a haircut making everything better? Well, that’s k
ind of a lie. But I thought I’d try it out.”

  I blinked, unable to remember the last time I’d seen Mom without her usual locks. I couldn’t recall a single instance.

  “Wow.”

  She ran her fingers through it. “Do you like it?”

  “I just … I mean, yes. It’s beautiful.”

  “You seem shocked.”

  “I am. I’ve never seen your hair shorter than your shoulders.”

  She folded herself into a nearby chair. “I thought it was time for a change.”

  “Do you like it?”

  She shrugged. “Cuts down prep time by thirty minutes. But then, I have to wash it every day. Not that it’s difficult or anything, but it’s one more thing to do.”

  She didn’t answer my question.

  “How is work?” I asked.

  “Slow tonight. But that’s a good thing.”

  A span of silence hummed between us while I debated whether or not I should ask about her and Dad. She decided before I could ask.

  “So … I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, but … your father and I are taking a little breather,” she said. A hint of tears misted her eyes, thickening her voice. My breath caught.

  “When?”

  “Started last week.”

  Why didn’t you tell us? I wanted to ask but swallowed it back. “What does a little breather mean?” I asked instead.

  She held up a hand. “Nothing final or anything. We just decided to try officially living apart even though we’re not around each other much anymore. Our therapist suggested it. I’ve been hesitating, but we’ve tried everything else.”

  “Is it … is it helping?”

  Desperation tainted my voice. Mom squeezed my hand.

  “I don’t know. The therapist assures us that these things take time…” She pressed a hand to her heart. “I don’t know.”

  To my surprise—and relief—she didn’t weep or wilt into a pile of regret. She sat there, staring at the floor. A flicker of hope rose from the depths of my fear. The D word hadn’t quite entered the picture yet. There was still hope. As much as I hated it, I clung to it, that traitorous, slippery emotion.

  “Do you have a place to stay?” I asked.

  “I’m at the house. He’s … somewhere in the old trailer.”

  Dad’s clunky, rusted trailer was his pride and joy. It smelled like fish and creaked with every small gust of wind, but he adored it.

  Another silence filled the space between us. This time I let it ride, too focused on my own questions to care. In the end, what could I say? Justin had been right; this wasn’t my fight. As much as I wanted it to be.

  “Keep me updated, will you?” I finally asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, so, I went to Subway because—”

  Justin stopped mid-stride, holding a plastic bag and a drink container. His gaze fell first on my mother, half-hiccupping from forcing her tears back, and then on me. No doubt I looked confused. Or frightened. Or some odd conglomeration of both. His eyes widened. He stepped back.

  “Uh, sorry. I didn’t—”

  Mom stood up. “Hello there, Justin!” she said, wiping the last vestiges of tears from her cheeks with a smile. “It’s always wonderful to see you. Are you still keeping track of my troublesome boys? They’re a handful. Don’t I know it!”

  “Of course, Mrs. Bailey. Your haircut looks great.”

  She touched the nape of her neck. “Oh. Thank you. It’s a bit shorter than I like. I hate it, actually.”

  He held up a Subway bag. “Fortunately for you, I brought the fix-all to your problems.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  He rifled through the bag and pulled out a second paper bag. “Cookies. But not just cookies. Chocolate chip. They fix everything.”

  Mom laughed, restoring a sense of youth to her countenance. “Thank you,” she said, accepting one. “I think you must be right.”

  He motioned to me with a jerk of his head. “Thank Megan. You’re eating one of hers.”

  “Well, I better head out,” Mom said. “Thanks so much, Meg, for listening. And Justin, the biggest thanks goes to you for fixing all my problems with this fantastic cookie.”

  “Anytime, Mrs. Bailey.”

  Mom reached down and squeezed my shoulder. “Love you.”

  Justin and I stared at each other until the sound of my mother’s shoes faded away. He pulled in a deep breath, sat in the chair next to mine, and tossed the remaining cookies onto my lap.

  “Start with a cookie,” he said. “You look like you could use it.”

  That evening, Mark and I stood just inside the tiny medical cabin, tucked away in the trees behind the lodge. Late shadows moved across the floor. A cot, a desk for charting, and a random assortment of cupboards filled the cabin. The smell of hand sanitizer permeated the room.

  “So … being the medical officer is pretty straightforward,” he said, glancing around. “You’ve handled the most complicated patients already. The daily splinters and bloody knees shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  I pulled open a few drawers, rifling through the contents. Mark swung a loop of keys around his index finger. After I finished perusing the cupboards, I nodded.

  “Should be easy enough,” I said.

  Mark gave me a half-smile. “Look, I know I’m asking a lot. Running the kitchen and medical will be tricky sometimes, but most of the issues here are minor. We have to have a licensed person on staff, and you have a crap ton of certifications, right?”

  If he only knew.

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Great. I’ve talked to the program staff, and they’ve promised to help out at mealtimes if needed.”

  I held out a hand. “I get a radio, right?”

  He handed me Troy’s old radio with a grin. “Obviously. Just, uh, keep it with you all the time. Like sleep, bathroom, exercise, kitchen. Oh, and no more weekday trips to Pineville.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “I’m on camp arrest?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lovely.”

  “You gotta stay here when campers are present. I will not lose this place because of litigation. I’ve basically sacrificed myself to it like the Old Testament.”

  “Are you going to stop calling me little blister now?”

  He snorted. “Fat chance. You are the blister. Listen, I gotta go do a quick camp inspection, make sure no one smuggled firecrackers in. By the way, have you seen my clipboard?”

  After the long day—and the exhausting conversation with Mom—I didn’t think I had any energy left to smile, but a glimmer of amusement took me by surprise. Way to go, Hollis and Sione.

  “Nope.”

  He muttered a swear word under his breath as he turned to leave, eyes darting all over the cabin. “Could have sworn—”

  “Hey, Mark?”

  He stopped and turned around. In the dim light, he looked just like Dad.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you know what’s going on with Mom and Dad right now?”

  The playful expression on his face faded. His pond-water eyes seemed to collect the shadows in the room. For a brief moment, I thought I saw in him the same ache I felt.

  “What do you mean?”

  Our eyes locked, as if we could ascertain how much the other one knew by visual assessment. Mark was the older of the twins and bore the responsibility of the eldest sibling in every regard.

  “You know, don’t you?” I asked.

  He started to leave again. “Don’t be crazy, Meg. They’re fine.”

  “They’re not fine.”

  He stopped halfway out the door, shoulders tight.

  “Whatever is happening between them has nothing to do with us, okay?” he said. “Just let them figure it out.”

  I started forward. “Mark, it’s getting worse. They’re living apart now. It doesn’t make sense.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. “How can they just fall out of love? Can you at least tell me what you know?”

&nbs
p; He shook his head with an exasperated sigh. A tight edge cut through his voice. “Let it go, Meg.”

  “Mark!”

  “What?”

  “Talk to me about this. Please? Mom asked me not to talk to anyone about it. But I can’t hold it in anymore. I’m not sure how much JJ knows, but I know you must know something already. Please?”

  He hesitated, pinning me with his stare. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  I folded my arms across my middle, fending off a sudden chill. Outside, darkness had started to fall in earnest, coating the world in deepening shadows. I thought I wanted answers, but now that he’d offered them, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was plunging deeper into the rabbit hole.

  “When did you find out they were having problems?” I asked.

  He swallowed. “A year ago Dad and I went fishing. He seemed quieter than usual and really distracted.”

  I scoffed. He must have been almost comatose. Dad didn’t speak much even when he had something to say.

  “He told you then?” I asked.

  “I asked him about it. I’d noticed that things seemed weird. They didn’t talk much. Mom kept texting me to ask the most random questions. That kind of stuff.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That things had been strained between them after Mom started the flight-nurse job at St. John’s. But he said they’d work through it.” He threw his hands in the air. “And here we are.”

  “Was it this bad then?”

  He shrugged. “Not sure. I was caught in the middle of it for a while, but that only made things worse, so I’ve left it alone. It’s not our business.”

  “Why didn’t anybody tell me?”

  “It’s not exactly something to talk about over the phone. I figured the day would come when they’d decide and everyone would know then. Why burden you with it sooner? There was a chance they’d figure it out.”

  My heart squeezed as if he’d just wrapped it in barbed wire and it still had to beat. He put a hand on my shoulder, shaking me lightly.

  “I’m sorry, Meg. Nothing can save them but them. Trust me. I’ve tried.”