I Am Girl Power

by Katie Cross

  Tears filled my eyes. I felt filleted open, as vulnerable as an injured two-year-old seeking reassurances. Justin had said the same thing, but it didn’t feel any better coming from Mark.

  “But what if they decide it’s not worth saving? What about us?”

  He reached out and pulled me into a warm hug, just like when I was a little girl. Tears dribbled down my cheeks.

  “Then that’s what they decide,” he whispered. “And we’ll always have each other. We’ll have them, too. Just not in the same way.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “I know.”

  I squeezed him as hard as I could. When I pulled away, he ruffled my hair. “Keep your chin up. JJ and I won’t go anywhere, all right?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re a good blister,” he said with a brief, jaunty grin. “A pain, but a good pain.”

  I laughed. “Thanks, Mark.”

  With a wink, he ducked away, fading into the emerald foliage with little more than the whisper of his feet on the trail. I didn’t feel better. The deepening fear in my chest seemed to swallow the last of my hope. Although Mark hadn’t said it, I’d seen it in his eyes.

  He didn’t believe they’d work it out.

  Chapter 16

  Desperate Measures

  As it turned out, being the camp nurse and the staff chef wasn’t as bad as I’d expected.

  It was far worse.

  Campers injured themselves at the most inopportune times. Anything from open blisters to splinters to swollen bug bites. I’d slap antibiotic ointment and band-aids on kids while praying my cornbread and chili didn’t burn. Once they left, I’d sprint to the lodge to keep up with meal prep.

  The last half of the summer closed in. On Monday morning of the sixth week of camp, the smallest group arrived—only twenty boys. Four of the ten counselors left to vacation for the week, not needed with so few participants. While stirring a pot of meat sauce, I grabbed my ringing phone and answered an unknown number.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Megan Bailey?”

  Something about the tinny, distant quality of the voice set my hair on edge. I hesitated.

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Wonderful. My name is Jameson. I work with Traveler’s Credit Card.”

  My stomach melted. “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Hi.”

  “We’re calling in regards to your missed payment for the month of July. According to our records, this is the second payment you’ve missed. Your minimum payment due has now risen to—”

  “I lost my job!” I cried, then bit down on my knuckle. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scream at you. Look, I know that I haven’t paid the minimum due, but the truth is that … I can’t.”

  Jameson paused. “You can’t?”

  I grimaced. Why had I said that? Surely he didn’t want to hear the truth if that’s what it came to. “I was laid off at work, and now I’m seeking … new employment.”

  “When were you laid off?”

  I swallowed. “At the end of May.”

  “And have you filed for unemployment?”

  “No.”

  “Are you actively looking for new job opportunities?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, sounding annoyed, “but that doesn’t change your minimum balance. You’ve missed two consecutive payments. And now that I know you don’t have work, I’ve frozen the account to keep you from using it again.”

  I ran a trembling hand through my hair.

  “Listen, what if I promise you that I can make a payment next month?” I asked. “When is it due?”

  “August tenth.”

  My flight back home left August first, which wouldn’t leave enough time to start a job and be paid by the tenth. I growled under my breath. Since Jodie hadn’t found any hiring bonuses, the only way I could promise to make any kind of payment was to borrow money—not likely given the family’s current circumstances—or leave Adventura early.

  Both options left a metallic taste in my mouth.

  “Are you there, Miss Bailey?”

  “Yes. Sorry. What happens if I don’t pay the minimum payment due by August tenth?”

  “Your bank will be notified, and we’ll give you to a debt collector. Trust me. They never stop calling.”

  “Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll pay … something by then.”

  “You will?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though you just informed me that you don’t have a job?”

  “I will by then. I’m working with a recruiter.”

  “Do you have any money to put down as a show of good faith?”

  “I wish. Well … I have twenty bucks but—”

  “Great. I’ll make a note of this conversation and plan on seeing that good faith payment come through within the next couple of days. I will speak with you again on August tenth, Miss Bailey. Thank you for your time.”

  The line went dead. I dropped the phone to my side, allowing my mind to speed away. Did I dare tell Mom or Dad? No. Out of the question right now. Mark and JJ had no money. None of the Health and Happiness Society had over five hundred dollars lying around that I knew of—I hadn’t exactly kept in touch with them. Could I lose my house? My car? My credit? I didn’t want to find out. I only had one option.

  With heavy fingers, I clicked through my phone. It only rang twice.

  “This is Jodie Renner with EveryHealth.”

  “Jodie, it’s Megan.”

  “Oh. Hello again. I didn’t expect to hear from you this soon.”

  “Uh … there’s been a slight change of plans.”

  “Yes?”

  I closed my eyes. “Find me a job. Any job.”

  She paused. “Okay,” she drawled. “Starting when?”

  My tongue stuck to the top of my roof like sandpaper. “Uh … anytime.”

  “I’ll be in meetings for the rest of the day, but I’ll compile a list when I’m back. Expect to hear from me Monday afternoon, all right?”

  Fabulous. A whole weekend to dwell on this conundrum. I swallowed.

  “Yeah, sounds great. Thanks, Jodie. I really appreciate the help.”

  “No problem. Talk to you soon.”

  The sound of the dial tone filled my ear, sounding an awful lot like the dead hum in my chest.

  What was I going to tell Mark and JJ?

  The debt pressed into my chest like a heart attack for the rest of the day. Every moment I wasn’t searching for another option—Could I sell my car long-distance? Did I own any jewelry I could pawn?—I spent the rest of it swearing I would never again let my finances fall on the back burner.

  Or plummet because of a guy.

  “Hey, Emmett. Will you grab that pot of pasta and take it off the burner?” I called later that evening, just five minutes before dinner. “This meat sauce will burn if I leave it.”

  Emmett leaped up from where he sat on a bench in the dining area and hurried into the kitchen. “Sure thing, girl power.”

  “Sorry. I was called into medical to fix a laceration.”

  “No problem.”

  Staff members streamed into the dining hall from all parts of Adventura, sweaty, hot, sunburned, and starving. A couple of them filled their water bottles at the sink while telling me stories about annoying campers.

  “The kid cried because his feet got wet. I don’t understand. It’s a lake. With water,” Sione muttered.

  “Maybe he didn’t want to ruin his shoes?”

  Sione snorted. “He was barefoot.”

  He tossed a water bottle in the recycling can before banging his way into the dining room. Several other staff members came in, talking to me over each other.

  “…then the little kid punched the big kid. It was pretty sweet. Don’t look at me like that, Megan. I stopped it … eventually. He deserved it. It was a true David-and-Goliath story…”

  “So there I was, on top of the climbing tower…”

  Spaghetti sa
uce and onions bubbled on the stovetop while I listened, commenting here and there while the kitchen filled with the scent of oregano and tomatoes. I toggled three different conversations and two side dishes at the same time. The distraction from my debt was a welcome relief.

  “Hey, JJ,” I called into the dining room. “Start setting out plates of butter, will you? Thanks!”

  He leaped to his feet, abandoning an ongoing game of poker that had been running at mealtimes for at least a week.

  JJ and Emmett bustled around the kitchen under my orders as I orchestrated the symphony of dinner. Their willing hands cut down my work by half. I was just tasting the spaghetti sauce after adding a dash of brown sugar when Mark burst into the kitchen. Justin followed close behind, grease on his hands from working on the camp truck. He headed for the sink. I rolled up the window into the lodge as the staff gathered.

  “Dig in, gentlemen,” I called, ringing the bell with a satisfying whack.

  The staff flooded forward, scrambling for plates, forks, and fresh rolls. Behind me, something slapped the island. I spun around to see a folded map next to the second bowl of noodles.

  “Found this over the weekend,” Justin said. “Thought you might be interested.”

  “A map?”

  I wiped my hands on my apron before picking it up. When the creased, rain-resistant material unfurled, an aerial view of the mountains surrounding Adventura lay before me. Justin reached over my shoulder and pointed out camp. A delicious hint of vetiver mingled with the heady tinge of automotive oil.

  “Here we are,” he said.

  He pointed to where the river flowed out of the canyon. A blue dot indicated the lake. His fingertip slid up the canyon and over to the right. A network of trails rambled like spider legs along the mountain ridge.

  “Check this out—two trails lead up Custer Mountain,” he said. “I thought there was only one.”

  I tapped on the left trail. “This western trail looks faster.”

  “No way. Check out that elevation profile. Eastern would be faster.”

  “Too many switchbacks. It’s at least two miles longer.”

  A hint of challenge tightened his tone. “I disagree.”

  My own pride rose to the occasion. The only way to know who was right would be to test it. How delicious it sounded—conquering something tangible while the rest of my life fluttered to ash in the background.

  “Wanna bet on it?” I asked, drawing out the budding idea. Justin canted his head to the side.

  “Bet?”

  “Yeah. Let’s make a bet. I’ll take the short route. You take the long. We’ll leave at the same time. Whoever gets to the top first wins.”

  Justin’s eyes gleamed.

  “You got it, girl power. What’s the prize?”

  Since I officially had zero dollars to my name—having already promised the twenty dollars to Traveler’s Credit Card—I cast about for something of high value. My eyes landed on the smorgasbord of food the staff had piled onto plates with reckless abandon.

  “If I win, you cook dinners for the next week,” I said.

  He ran his tongue over his teeth. “That’s it?”

  “That’s a lot!”

  “Let’s make it more interesting.”

  A thrill shot down my spine. The staff stared at us from the window, silent, hands poised halfway to their plates.

  “How?”

  “Fifty bucks and I make dinner for a week.”

  I swallowed. He had no idea how much fifty dollars was asking.

  “If you win?” I asked.

  “Fifty bucks and you … clean all the biffies.”

  A couple of men behind us sniggered. The biffies—or outdoor toilets—were cramped wooden shacks with a toilet on top of a hole in the ground. Still, they had to be wiped down with bleach and restocked every week. Not only did they reek, but flies swarmed them. Would it be worth it?

  Definitely.

  With a flash of inspiration, I recalled my talk with JJ on top of the cliff. His family is loaded. Lives in this big mansion in California. He’s old money, I guess. Desperate times called for desperate measures, didn’t they?

  “No,” I said.

  His eyebrows shot halfway to his hairline. “No?”

  “Five hundred dollars.”

  A collective ooh came from the staff, preceding the chorus of dissents that rang in my head.

  “Girl has balls,” someone sang.

  “She’s insane.”

  “No one can beat Justin on a mountain.”

  “She’s betting five hundred dollars with the gladiator?”

  Their murmurs did little to dissuade me. My heart pattered like a bird in flight. If I won—which I would—his money would solve everything. I could meet the minimum balance on my debt by August tenth without leaving Adventura early. Jodie could get me into the right job instead of a last-minute desperate job.

  Justin studied me before sticking out his hand.

  “Agreed.”

  I accepted, ignoring the smirk that sent his dimple into a deep groove.

  “You’re on, girl power. You and me. Saturday morning.”

  I grinned. Me on the mountain? I’d been trail running with JJ almost every morning. Climbing and swimming every Saturday. Hiking with the twins every Sunday. I had this—and my debt issues—in the bag.

  Saturday dawned with a big sky evenly funneled into a sliver by the mountains. Not a single cloud loitered in sight. The crisp, heady scent of pine needles drifted into my little cabin, calling to me. Eager to get on the trail, I shucked the sleeping bag off and scrambled for my hiking boots.

  “Hey,” JJ said when I hustled out of my cabin ten minutes later, finishing off an energy bar. He jogged to my side, his hair unbound and wet on his shoulders.

  “Hey.” I swallowed the last bite. “I was just on my way to the kitchen to grab my lunch.”

  JJ nodded toward the stream. “Justin’s at the trailhead now. So is the rest of the staff. Oh, and I brought you these.”

  He extended four black packets to me. A bright crimson font across the front said, The Gel Guru presents Black Cherry.

  “What are they?” I asked, glancing at the back. No list of ingredients. Minimal packaging with frayed edges and skewed font. “Are these black market or something?”

  “Energy gels. A running buddy of mine is trying to get into it. He’s testing this recipe, so he’s not sure how well it works. Said something about extract of ginseng and a new caffeine mixture.”

  “Sounds … intense.”

  “Want to try it out? You could give him some feedback. He wants to go wide with it but needs to know if it requires more ingredients, or fewer. And…” He paused. “Well … let’s just say you might need the extra boost.”

  My right eyebrow rose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Justin is the best hiker we have here.”

  “Better than you?”

  “I’m a climber, not a hiker. There’s a big difference. But yes, even better than me. Mark, too.”

  A shot of anxiety raced through me. Maybe I’d made this hasty bet without all the facts. Anyone that could beat JJ could beat me.

  “He’s a lowlander,” I said, brushing it off. “I’ll be fine. I grew up in the mountains.”

  “Not a lowlander anymore. He’s been living in Jackson City for the past year. Look, I’ve hiked with him before. He has lungs the size of hot-air balloons. He’ll dominate those extra two miles. Probably run up the whole thing and then back down even faster.”

  A shout from the stream caught our attention. Mark stood in the trees, waving for us. “We’re waiting!” he called.

  “Coming!” I said, shoving the gels in my bag as JJ and I started walking. JJ put a hand on my back.

  “Just … don’t set your heart on this, okay?”

  “It’s $500. My heart is absolutely set on it.”

  And so is my future, I thought, setting my jaw.

  “And the biffies,” h
e quipped. “Don’t forget how fun it will be to clean those.”

  “I’ll win. I have to.”

  He said no more as we strode through the trees, but his silence told me everything.

  “You ready for this, girl power?” Justin asked as we approached. He wore a pair of gray shorts and a loose t-shirt. The muscles in his legs seemed even more pronounced. I recalled his morning swim at the lake with a little blush and dismissed JJ’s warnings.

  “I was born ready,” I said, cracking my neck.

  Five hundred dollars, I told myself. Just get through the pain to get the gain.

  Everyone gathered at a split in the trail a few yards from the stream, which we’d just crossed. Although they kept their voices low, I could hear them placing bets. Only a few went in my favor. Sione waved a stack of fives at me, no doubt to indicate his loyalty. Mercenary motivations aside, I wanted to make these guys proud of me again.

  At any rate, it couldn’t hurt more than the belly-flop.

  Atticus stood between us, tail swinging, mouth open in a perpetual pant. “You take the dog,” Justin said, nudging Atticus closer. I sank my fingers into his silky fur and didn’t disagree. Adventura was private land, so the trail had been mostly unused. A neglected trail posed many dangers. Having Atticus with me would ease some of my worries.

  “Thanks.”

  “May the best hiker win,” Justin said. I tried not to focus on the rough feel of his callused hands against mine as we shook.

  “I will.”

  He laughed, heading off onto his trail. Atticus watched him go, then looked up at me.

  “C’mon, boy.” I ruffled his fur. “Let’s go.”

  The staff cheered as I spun around and headed for my own trail.

  “Get him, girl power!”

  “Beat the gladiator.”

  “Make us proud!”

  Their calls faded into the background as I strode down the trail. If I could win a belly-flop competition, I could win this bet. I would win this bet and the freedom that making a big payment would bring.

  Or so I hoped.

  A nagging tug made itself known in my stomach as I began the ascent up the steep mountainside, sliding on the occasional waterfall of loose rock. What if I failed to make it to the top? What if I was in over my head like JJ had suggested?