Wrong Way Summer

by Heidi Lang

  “You might not realize this,” Claire said carefully through gritted teeth, “but it’s a little different for a girl. I can’t just, just pee, okay?”

  Her dad shrugged. “Honey-bear—”

  “Don’t even.”

  He laughed. “Fine. Claire. My sweet-tempered, gentle flower of a daughter. We’re staying here for the night. So you have a choice: go find a nice tree, or hold it.”

  “I’ll hold it.”

  “Okay then.” He put up the windshield and side-door coverings, drew the curtains on the other windows, and fixed the blankets on his bed, Patrick cheerfully helping him. Claire stood as far to the side as she could, her fingers curled tight into fists.

  By the time he was done, though, she’d made up her mind. “Fine,” she muttered.

  Her dad looked over. “What’s that?”

  “I’m going to find a tree.”

  He grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

  “I’ll go with you, Claire,” Patrick said. “I have to pee, too.”

  Claire was embarrassed by how relieved that made her feel, that she wouldn’t have to go out into the woods at night alone. Still, she didn’t want Patrick to know that. “Fine,” she said. “As long as you don’t look.”

  “Ew. Why would I look?” He opened the side door and hopped out, and Claire followed him.

  “Pack it in, pack it out,” their dad said, handing Claire some toilet paper and a ziplock bag.

  “What?”

  “No littering, so used tp goes in the bag, and we’ll toss it when we find a garbage can.”

  Claire glared at him. “You are not my favorite person right now.”

  He put a hand to his heart, like she’d shot him. “You wound me.”

  Sighing, Claire took the supplies and followed her brother through the trees. The moon was half full and beautiful, stars winking around it. It made her miss her room. Were the new owners painting over her ceiling? Or maybe they had a kid who would leave it just as it was, who would appreciate it. She hoped so.

  “Hurry up,” Patrick whispered as Claire found a tree.

  “I’m trying. Don’t talk to me.” Her brother had his back turned, but Claire still moved a few more trees away. Her skin prickled, and she was hyperaware of every little sound, of the cool night air, of insects buzzing way too close. This was horrible. How did people ever survive without indoor plumbing? She’d never take it for granted again.

  “Claire?” Patrick called.

  “Almost done.”

  “I think there’s someone else out here.”

  Claire’s heart stopped. She put a hand against the tree in front of her, pressing her palm hard into the rough bark so she wouldn’t fall over.

  “Claire?” Patrick called again, his voice quavering.

  “I’m coming.” She finished up and hurried over, crunching through fallen leaves, her footsteps way too loud. The crickets had gone silent, as if the forest was waiting for something to happen, and she couldn’t help imagining every single horror movie her dad had ever let her watch. The skin between her shoulder blades tightened, and when she spun, she was sure something had moved right behind her. She peered at the spot, but it was too dark to see anything. Just a shadow under the trees?

  “Let’s get back,” Patrick whispered, glancing all around. They hadn’t gone too far from the van, and it only took a few seconds before it came into view.

  Claire glanced instinctively at the dark van parked in front of theirs.

  The doors were open.

  She caught her breath. Voices up ahead. She didn’t know when it happened, or who’d reached for whom, but somehow she and Patrick were holding hands as they stepped out of the woods.

  “And there they are!” her dad said, beaming in the light spilling from inside their van, not looking sleepy at all. “Claire, Patrick, this is Celeste—”

  An extremely slender woman with frizzy blond hair braided in a ring around her head smiled over at them.

  “—Peter—” Next to Celeste loomed a tall, broad-shouldered man with short dark hair and a very bushy beard that hung halfway down his chest.

  “—and Justin.” A boy stepped forward. Claire guessed he was about her age, maybe a little older, tall and slender like his mom, with tousled brown hair and light eyes, and when he smiled at her, the left corner of his mouth quirked higher than the right. Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy. She dropped Patrick’s hand immediately.

  “Call me P-Sign,” Peter said, holding up his hand, two fingers extended in a vee. Claire noticed he was wearing a tie-dyed T-shirt, all reds and yellows and pinks. Claire had to look at him and Celeste, these strange adults, because she felt like she couldn’t look at Justin. Mostly because she wanted to look at Justin.

  “He has the spirit of the sixties in his soul,” Celeste said, her voice a pleasant husky rasp, like she had a bad cold.

  Claire nodded, even though she wasn’t quite sure what that meant. “Oh,” she murmured, finally looking Justin in the eyes. His smile widened, and she knew whatever Celeste had said, it didn’t matter, because nothing could ruin this one beautiful, perfect moment—

  “Hey, um, Claire,” Patrick said.

  Claire tore her eyes away from the new boy. “What?”

  “You dropped your pee bag.” Patrick held out the ziplock bag, pinched carefully between the tips of his thumb and forefinger.

  —except for her brother.

  CHAPTER 22

  “You don’t sleep in the van?” Claire asked, watching Justin set up his hammock for the night in the nearby forest. She was wide awake now, and not at all scared of the dark. The crickets sang, the trees danced in the breeze, and the stars overhead were extra bright.

  “Not if I can help it,” Justin said. “I mean, our van is super cool, of course. I helped my parents convert it and everything. But this”—he shook his hammock—“is way better, you know?”

  “What about bugs?”

  “They’re no big deal.”

  “So, bugs don’t bug you.” Claire wanted to swallow those words back immediately, she was so embarrassed. It was something her dad might have said. What was wrong with her? “Sorry, I—”

  “Don’t be sorry. You’re funny.” Justin grinned at her, a lock of hair trailing into his eye.

  “Me?” Claire flushed. Was she funny? Her dad seemed to think so, but he was a weirdo. But if Justin thought so, maybe it was true. “Um, thanks.” She dragged her gaze past him and studied his hammock. It had some kind of strange netting on top of it. “What’s that?”

  “Oh.” He dropped his smile. “Well, that’s a bug net. You know, just in case.”

  “Oh,” Claire said.

  “Some places are super buggy,” he added, a little defensively.

  “I get it,” Claire said quickly, and she was rewarded with his smile again.

  “I thought you would.” The way he said it made Claire feel special, like she was not only funny, but the kind of girl who’d understand about bug nets and hammocks and sleeping outdoors. Someone strong and brave. Someone like Ronnie.

  She pictured her friend, with her deep, confident voice, how athletic she was, how pretty. If Ronnie were there, Claire would fade into her shadow, and Justin would never notice her. Without her friend around, maybe Claire could be the confident one instead, funny and cool, the kind of girl Justin would like.

  For the first time ever, she was glad Ronnie wasn’t there.

  That thought made her falter. Was she already changing, becoming this other person? The kind of person who didn’t mind leaving people behind?

  A person like her mother.

  “You okay?” Justin asked.

  Claire nodded. “I’m fine.” And she was. She hadn’t left Ronnie behind. She’d written her, again and again, and Ronnie hadn’t even bothered to call her.

  “Long day on the road, am I right?” Justin swept his hair back from his face.

  “You know it,” Claire said. And then she uttered the two words
she swore she’d never, ever say: “Hashtag vanlife.”

  Justin burst out laughing. “Hashtag vanlife,” he agreed. “You know, I’m really glad you’re camping with us. See you tomorrow?”

  Claire grinned, her insides warm and fuzzy. “I hope so.” She waved good night, and then walked back to her van, still grinning.

  “What’s wrong with your face?” Patrick asked.

  Claire ignored him. She was still mad about that whole pee bag incident. It was like he was trying to embarrass her, but it didn’t matter, because Justin thought she was funny and wanted to see her tomorrow.

  “So, kids,” their dad said as he joined them in the van, closing the side door behind him, “Celeste has invited us to caravan with them tomorrow. They’re heading to Gunnison National Forest. I guess there’s dispersed camping available there.”

  “What’s that?” Claire asked.

  “Places you can camp for free.” He winked. “My favorite. And probably full of all kinds of trolls, this being Colorado and all.” He nudged Patrick, who for once didn’t take the bait.

  “And we’d be camping with Celeste, and, um, and her family?” Claire couldn’t make herself say Justin’s name. Not in front of her dad.

  “If we decide to join them.”

  “Can we? Please?” Claire begged.

  “I thought you might be interested. But I gotta warn you, it’s rough camping. That means probably no toilets, and definitely no showers. You sure you want to?”

  Claire nodded.

  “Patrick?”

  He shrugged. “I’d rather it just be us, Dad.”

  Their dad frowned. “Hmm. Generally I would, too, son. But Celeste and Peter have been telling me about their hashtag vanlife posts, and how they’re using them to fund their trip, and I gotta say, I’m a little curious to learn more. But only if you’re okay with it.”

  Patrick sighed. “I guess it’s okay. Just for tomorrow, though, right?”

  Their dad hesitated. “Well, they also told me about a vanlife rally. They’re heading in that direction, and I thought maybe we’d go there, too.”

  Patrick sighed again.

  “How about we see how tomorrow goes, and then we decide, eh?”

  “Okay,” Patrick said reluctantly.

  As Claire climbed up into her hammock, she tried to imagine what it would be like to sleep outside, listening to animals rustling in the woods instead of the sounds of her dad snoring and Patrick shifting and the van creaking. And even though she thought it would be cool to be the kind of person who did that, she knew that secretly, she was pretty happy inside the van.

  Claire drifted to sleep with that thought filling her: she was actually happy sleeping in a van. Maybe she really was a tumbleweed.

  Maybe she could be like Justin after all.

  Claire was dirty, and sweaty, and trying not to care. But as the sweat stuck her shirt to her back and the dirt itched down her legs, the knowledge that there would be no shower waiting at the end of this hike pressed against her more fiercely than the humidity of the day. And just how long was this trail? They’d been hiking out here for over an hour.

  “Isn’t hiking the greatest?” Justin asked, looking especially cute in gray cargo shorts and a button-down green shirt as he walked next to her. He could have been an athletic-wear model, and Claire couldn’t bring herself to say anything about the dirt and bugs and heat. Not when he was looking at her like she must be the kind of girl who would be totally into it.

  She plastered a grin on her face. “Hiking sure is . . . something, alright,” she managed.

  It was enough for Justin, who grinned back at her, like they were sharing some sort of secret.

  “Claire hates hiking,” Patrick spoke up.

  Claire scowled at him. “Don’t you have someone else you can bother?” Up ahead, she could hear her dad laugh as he hiked along with Celeste and P-Sign. Why couldn’t Patrick hike with them?

  “No,” Patrick said. “They’re being boring up there. They keep talking about those stupid vanlife videos.”

  Justin stiffened. “They’re not stupid.”

  “Yeah, Patrick,” Claire said, shooting him a look. “They’re not.”

  Patrick shrugged. “They seem pretty stupid to me. I told your mom,” he pointed at Justin, “that I didn’t want to be in her video, but she still keeps talking and talking about it.”

  “She wants you to be in one of our videos?” Justin’s eyebrows drew together.

  Patrick shrugged again. “Guess so.”

  “Huh.” Justin kicked a rock. “Cool, I guess.” But he looked annoyed.

  “We hiked part of the Appalachian Trail last week,” Claire blurted, then immediately regretted it. Why was she still talking about hiking?

  “Oh yeah?” Justin brightened. “I’m planning on hiking the whole thing someday. All two thousand two hundred miles. I think it would be such an experience, you know?”

  “Definitely.” She remembered how tired she’d been after one day of hiking those hills, and tried to imagine months of that. It would be an experience for sure, and not one she’d really want. But she could totally picture Justin out there, hiking all day, sleeping in his hammock at night, feeling completely at home with it.

  “Maybe we could hike it together someday.” He nudged her shoulder.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Claire said.

  Patrick made a gagging noise, and she turned to see him miming putting his finger down his throat. She thought Justin might be annoyed with that, too, but he just laughed.

  They turned a corner and found all the parents waiting for them just up ahead. “Don’t worry, we’re practically back to our campsite now,” Claire’s dad said, winking at her.

  “I wasn’t worried,” Claire said quickly.

  “Claire loves hiking now.” Patrick rolled his eyes.

  “Oh yeah?” Her dad beamed, and Claire could imagine all the miles and miles of hiking he was planning for her future. She was so going to kill Patrick.

  “See what I mean?” Celeste said, swooping in and pinching Patrick’s cheeks. “Just look at this cute little face. He’d be a perfect addition to our videos.”

  Claire would have felt bad for her brother, except this probably served him right for being so obnoxious.

  “Not sure he’d be a willing addition, though,” her dad said, and even though he sounded calm, there was something under his words, a jaggedness, that Celeste must have picked up on. She let Patrick go.

  “So, Justin, I hear you’re into rock climbing,” Claire’s dad said abruptly.

  Justin blinked, tearing his eyes away from Patrick. “Oh, yes. Very into it.”

  “I did my fair share of bouldering back in my younger days,” Claire’s dad said. “Never did try roping in, though. Thinking I might take it up again eventually.”

  “Really?” Justin fell into step next to him, getting caught up in a discussion about bouldering techniques and best places to climb. As they rounded the trail into their campsite, Claire let Justin drift away from her. It wasn’t surprising to lose him to her dad.

  She trudged back to her van, trying not to feel disappointed. Sighing, she rummaged around for her baby wipes, then sat in the open side door and looked outside, absently swatting the occasional bug and wiping halfheartedly at the dirt on her ankles.

  “Hey!” Justin called.

  Claire looked up.

  He jogged toward her, brown hair tousled. “There you are! Can I sit next to you?”

  Claire shifted over to give him space.

  “Why’d you run off?” he asked.

  “I guess I figured you’d be talking to my dad for a while.”

  He shrugged. “Your dad is interesting and all, but I’d much rather talk to you.”

  Claire blinked. “R-really?”

  “Definitely. I mean, no offense, but your dad kind of talks a lot, you know?”

  Claire laughed. “Oh, I know, trust me.”

  “I like how you listen to me.” A
nd he gave her that crooked smile, the one that made her heart race, and she finally understood why Edgar had said, “Gnnurh,” when Evangeline Rose touched his arm and told him her name.

  As he launched into his next story, she tried to focus on it, but the whole time she could hear him saying how he’d rather talk to her. He’d choose her over her dad. He liked her.

  “Right?” he asked a few minutes later, and she nodded.

  “Yeah. Definitely.” She wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to, but it didn’t really matter.

  CHAPTER 23

  Claire looked out the window at the beautiful trees while her mind kept conjuring up images of Justin, with his crooked smile and his perfect hazel eyes, and those freckles, the way he said her name. She sighed. She missed him already. Which was ridiculous, since she’d see him when they got to the next campsite.

  Claire sighed again.

  “Whole lot of sighing going on there,” her dad remarked. “Sounds like someone could use a good story.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “How about it, Patrick? Want to hear a story?”

  Patrick shrugged. He’d been quiet since they told Celeste they’d keep traveling with her and her family, his disapproval radiating out in silent spirals.

  “Or I could sing?”

  “Story,” Claire and Patrick said immediately.

  “Want to hear more about ole Wrong Way? It’s been a little while since we last checked in with him.”

  Not since before Maine, Claire realized. Her dad had barely told any stories at all since then, which was very unlike him.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Claire said quickly. “Wrong Way story.”

  “Patrick?”

  “I guess so,” Patrick mumbled.

  “Come on, show a little enthusiasm. This is your ancestor, your blood!”

  “If you say so.” Patrick looked out the window.

  “You are a tough crowd.” Their dad pretended to loosen his collar. “But I’ve had tougher. Did I tell you kids about the time I had to perform in front of an ant colony?”