Backwoods

by Jill Sorenson

  Leo walked to the creek in front of Brooke, keeping an eye out for intruders. He was hungry and tired and annoyed with everything. He couldn’t believe his dad hadn’t told him his mom had cheated.

  Leo didn’t know what to think. Brooke never lied about anything important, and Abby seemed like the honest type. His mom, on the other hand, had been known to stretch the truth. He doubted she had a sprained ankle, for example.

  “Shit,” he said, kicking the dirt. For the past six years, he’d operated under the assumption that his mom had left his dad because he was a surly drunk. Now he found out that she’d only told Leo half the truth. He was furious with both of his parents for deceiving him. The reason they got divorced was important.

  Leo resented being kept out of the loop. He resented Ray for taking his car away, and his mom for backing up Ray. Most of all, he resented his dad for trying to interfere in his life after making a mess of his own.

  Leo’s recreational drug use was nobody’s damned business. He was nineteen, not twelve. Pot was hardly even illegal. In a few years, it would be sold in every supermarket. Compared to alcohol and other drugs, it was healthy.

  Leo wasn’t a heroin addict. He didn’t rob banks. He didn’t drive drunk or disrespect girls or brawl in the streets. He was fine, and he didn’t need his dad or anyone else getting in his face about smoking a little weed.

  It made him happy. Why shouldn’t he be happy? Adults wanted everyone to be boring and miserable, like them. He had to climb on the hamster wheel and become a “productive member of society.”

  Well, fuck that.

  This wasn’t even about him, it was about his dad. Mr. Bigshot Pro Baller had decided that drugs and alcohol were evil because he’d made a fool of himself on YouTube. Leo shouldn’t have to get sober just because his dad couldn’t handle his liquor.

  It was stupid of Brooke to hint that she’d gotten high with him, too. Ray already thought Leo was a bad influence. If Ray learned that Leo had crossed the line with his daughter—in more ways than one—he’d go ape-shit. Ray had threatened to make Leo’s life a living hell if he ever dared to touch Brooke. There were worse things than not having a car to drive. Leo could end up getting kicked out of the house or thrown in jail.

  Leo knew he’d caused trouble between his mother and Ray. They fought over his bad grades and worse attitude. Was it any wonder that he wanted to escape? There was conflict everywhere he turned.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Brooke. She followed him in silence, not chirping about the scenery or wildlife for once. He liked her more than a stepbrother should, but her high energy rankled when he was feeling down.

  It was easy for her to be upbeat; she was perfect.

  When they reached the creek, he handed her the water bag. “I’m sorry,” he said, his stomach churning.

  She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. He was only an inch or two taller than her, so their bodies lined up in a pleasing way. “It’s okay,” she said, releasing him. “You were upset.”

  “Do you hate my mom?”

  “No, I like her. I shouldn’t have made that karma comment. It was mean.”

  He watched her nibble her lower lip, her blue eyes full of regret. Even Brooke said bitchy things in the heat of the moment.

  “Do you really think they’ll split up?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” It was going to suck either way. Ray was a jerk, but Leo’s mom loved him.

  “If they do, will you stay in touch with me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good,” she said, smiling. “I don’t want to lose my only brother.”

  Brother. Right.

  She bent to fill up the water bag. It filtered inside the collapsible pouch and came out a tube at the bottom, ready to drink. He carried the heavy bag back to camp and hung it on the short tree branch Brooke pointed out. Then she fired up the camp stove and put a pot of water on to boil. Leo was starving, so he hoped the freeze-dried dinners were edible.

  “Help me set up the tents,” his dad said.

  Leo rose with reluctance, not interested in another lecture. His dad was pretending to be a concerned parent for Abby’s benefit, but he didn’t really care. The Storm had always been more focused on sports and professional success.

  Leo would never be good enough to suit him; he’d given up trying a long time ago.

  His dad studied the instructions and started putting poles together, speaking to Leo only when necessary. The tents were compact and low to the ground, designed for maximum comfort in minimal space. Leo wasn’t looking forward to sharing such tight quarters with someone who could barely tolerate him.

  “Your mother didn’t want to tell you,” his dad said in a low voice. “She didn’t think you’d understand.”

  “Did you cheat on her, too?”

  “No,” he said, his brows rising. “Never.”

  Leo wished they’d talked about this a long time ago. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. He’d never forgive his dad for treating him like a disappointment. But knowing this small truth changed Leo’s feelings about him.

  Once the tents were secure, his dad brought the gear inside and left Leo alone with his thoughts. Brooke wandered over to help him get situated. She showed him how to use the air valve to inflate the sleeping pads.

  “Do you think they’ll let us sleep together?” she asked.

  He laid out his sleeping pad. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  It was a silly question, so he started blowing into the valve.

  “Then my mom could sleep with your dad.”

  Ugh. He didn’t know which was worse, Brooke’s lack of sexual self-awareness or her weird fascination with their parents hooking up.

  “They’d make a cute couple. I like your dad.”

  “If you like him so much, why don’t you sleep with him?”

  She made a horrified face. “Ew, Leo! No.”

  He finished inflating his sleeping pad, smiling a little. Then he watched her blow into the valve on her sleeping pad with more interest than was appropriate.

  Brooke tempted and teased him on a regular basis. She did it the same way she did everything, with unfiltered joie de vivre. Flirting was as natural as breathing to her. Maybe she toyed with him because he was safe. They were comfortable together. There was no possibility of a relationship. She meant no harm, but she wasn’t so oblivious that she didn’t notice his reactions to her. He’d gotten an erection once when she’d climbed on top of him. She’d been more amused than embarrassed, tickling him until it went away.

  He knew she wasn’t a virgin. She’d told him all about her first time, and how her douchebag boyfriend hadn’t bothered to be gentle. He assumed she’d had other, hopefully better, experiences since then. But it was clear that she was still innocent in many ways. She had no clue how much he wanted her. Sometimes that made him angry. Sometimes he wasn’t in the mood for playful wrestling and blue balls.

  He couldn’t stay angry, though. Being mad at her for flirting was like being mad at her for being beautiful, or being mad at the sun for shining. If he needed space, he could put distance between them. But he never did. Because he enjoyed the attention. God help him, he liked her rubbing on him.

  They’d never discussed what Leo had done at Mavericks. Leo wasn’t sure she even remembered it. She’d been high as a kite, thanks to him.

  They climbed out of the tent and pulled on jackets. The sun had disappeared on the horizon, bringing the chill of dusk. Abby and his dad were sitting on the log by the fire pit. While Brooke added boiling water to four meal packages, letting them steep for a few minutes, Leo cased the perimeter of the campsite.

  He’d lied to his dad about the pot. It was still in his backpack.

  Leo wasn’t worried about the hunters c
oming after them. His dad had made a good point about the poached venison. Even so, the remoteness of their location left them vulnerable. As he stared into the dark recesses of the forest, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Troubled, he returned to the others.

  There was nowhere to sit except on the fallen log in front of the empty fire pit. Leo took a space next to Abby. He didn’t make eye contact with her. He was embarrassed by his contentious relationship with his father. Brooke’s sordid tale about his mother and her father getting busy in the back office didn’t help.

  Brooke put another pot of water on to boil, humming a cheery tune. She was wearing a fluorescent yellow windbreaker and a blue knit beanie with her cutoff shorts and hiking boots. Her legs were about a mile long, smooth and tanned.

  Leo hazarded a glance at Abby. She’d put on a gray fleece pullover to ward off the chill. She was pretty, and not that old. His friends would call her a “milf.” He hated it when they said that about his mom.

  “Brooke tells me you’re a student at Humboldt,” Abby said.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I like it there.”

  “Do you have a major?”

  “International Studies.”

  “What happened to Music?” his dad asked.

  Leo didn’t know why his dad was frowning. He thought Music was for stoners. “I switched majors.” He was interested in other cultures, so this seemed like a better fit. Being fluent in Portuguese and Spanish didn’t hurt.

  “Will you go abroad?” Abby asked.

  “Next year,” he said, nodding. “I’m thinking about Spain.”

  His dad made a sound of displeasure.

  “You have a problem with Spain?” Leo asked him.

  “No, I have a problem with your grades. I doubt they let students on academic probation study abroad.”

  He was right, the judgmental bastard. “I have to get my GPA up first.”

  “I’d love to go to Spain,” Abby said brightly. “I’ve always wanted to travel.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  She shrugged, glancing at Brooke.

  Leo figured that Abby had become a mother at a young age. His mom hadn’t been able to travel much, either. His dad, however, had toured the world with his baseball team. He’d been to a dozen foreign countries while she stayed home with Leo. She must have been bored and unfulfilled. When he was in junior high, she’d lost a baby and cried all weekend. His dad had flown home to be with her, but only for a day.

  Brooke served the freeze-dried dinners when they were ready. They ate the meat and carrots right out of the bag. She claimed they had to finish every morsel to comply with her “leave no trace” philosophy. Leo had no problem with that; he devoured his meal. For dessert, they drank vanilla mint chai from camp cups. It was a nice dinner.

  Leo still felt uneasy about the thieves, and he wasn’t proud of punching his dad or throwing up in the bushes. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a comfortable evening with family. He also hadn’t spent more than a few hours without his cell phone or gone to bed sober in weeks.

  “Do you want me to take first watch?” he asked his dad.

  “No. I’ll do it.”

  “Okay,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. “Wake me up at midnight or whenever you get tired.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His dad just stared at him.

  “You don’t trust me to do it right?”

  “Should I?”

  Leo stiffened at the insult. He still had a bag of weed in his backpack and he wanted to smoke it. Even so, his dad’s lack of confidence bothered him. It hurt to be treated like a loser who had nothing to contribute.

  Clenching his hands into fists, he retreated to the tent and took off his shoes. Camping sucked. He couldn’t escape. He didn’t have any rolling papers. Hiking, swimming and exploring had sapped his strength.

  Taking off his jacket, he bunched it up behind his head to use as a pillow. His shorts were dry and comfortable enough to sleep in, so he didn’t bother to change before he slipped inside the sleeping bag.

  A few minutes later, someone walked by with a flashlight and went inside the other tent. Leo straightened, looking through the mesh window. Less than ten feet of space separated the two tents. It was Brooke, judging by the outline of her body. She tugged her shirt over her head and removed her bikini top. He couldn’t see anything, but his imagination supplied the details. After she wrestled into warmer clothing, he settled back down on the sleeping pad, wincing when it made a squeaky noise.

  Instead of staying inside her tent, she crawled out and approached his. “Leo? Are you awake?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  She unzipped the front of the tent and climbed in with him. She was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jogging pants. Her flashlight was really a headlamp, attached to her forehead as if she was going caving. She’d probably been caving. She was that kind of girl. She was also the kind of girl who said whatever popped into her mind, so he figured he’d have to listen to her opine on his relationship with his father. First, she got cozy in the available sleeping bag.

  “He’s doing the best he can,” she said quietly.

  “His best sucks.”

  “At least he’s trying.”

  “Trying to do what, tear me down?”

  “He wants to fix things between you.”

  “He wants to fix me. He thinks I’m a fuckup, and he can’t stand weakness or failure. His mission in life is to criticize everything I do.”

  “Do you expect him to pat you on the back for smoking pot?”

  “I expect him to mind his own business.”

  “Give him a break.”

  Brooke didn’t understand the history between them. His dad had started drinking after his career hit the skids. He was even more critical of himself than he was of Leo. He’d been emotionally unavailable for years.

  Now that he was sober and successful again, he thought he could just waltz back into the picture. It was almost as if Leo was a game and his dad had signed on for extra innings. His motivations were self-serving; he didn’t like to lose.

  “He asked me if I was gay once,” Leo said.

  Brooke adjusted the light on her forehead, smiling. “It’s not an insult.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “I was never good at competitive sports, but he kept making me try out. One of the kids on the soccer field called me a faggot because I was scared of the ball. He didn’t say it very loud, but I heard it and so did my dad. After the game, he got really serious and sat me down. He said it was okay to be gay.”

  Brooke covered her face and dissolved in giggles. When she was done laughing, she said, “That’s sweet, Leo.”

  “No. It’s lame.”

  “He wanted you to know he’d love you either way.”

  “I think he was trying to pinpoint the reason for my lack of aggression. If I was gay, I had an excuse for not being good at sports.”

  “Gay people play sports.”

  “I know. I’m just saying that he thought I was girly. I could never be strong enough, tough enough or man enough for him.”

  She pondered that for a moment. “I get called a lesbian a lot.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m an athlete, I guess. Because of my...body.”

  He sat up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not curvy or womanly. I have muscles.”

  Leo had been staring at her body all day and had yet to find a flaw. She filled out her bikini to perfection. “You’re smoking hot.”

  “Really?”
<
br />   “Have you ever looked in a mirror?”

  “Some guys are intimidated by my strength,” she said, shrugging. “This jock at my high school told everyone I was a lesbian after I rejected him.”

  Leo stretched out on his back and tucked his hands behind his head. “Jocks are stupid.”

  “Hey.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “What if I am a lesbian?”

  His heart stalled in his chest. “Why would you say that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not as boy-crazy as my friends.”

  “Well, you should definitely explore your options and sleep with a few girls. Then tell me all about it.”

  She punched him in the ribs. “Would you explore your options?”

  “Don’t need to. I’m 100 percent sure.”

  “Maybe I haven’t been with the right person.”

  “Maybe you haven’t,” he agreed.

  “You remember that guy I was dating?”

  “Yeah.” The jerk who hurt her.

  “I didn’t enjoy the...physical part of the relationship.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I kept trying, but I never...”

  “Came?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Did he know that?”

  “Yes. He said his last girlfriend came every time. He told me I needed to give up control and embrace my feminine side.”

  Leo rubbed his eyes, smiling wryly.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “If you didn’t come and he knew it, he wasn’t doing it right.”

  She studied him with skepticism. “How many girls have you been with?”

  “A few.”

  “What’s a few?”

  “Five.”

  “Did they all...”

  “No. Jenna and I only did it once. With the others, I had a little more practice.”

  “Was it easy?”

  He stared up at the ceiling of the tent, moistening his lips. The first time, he’d thought his jaw was going to lock up. He hadn’t realized he could alternate between fingers and tongue or work up to oral instead of diving right in. “It got easier.”

  She turned off her headlamp, casting them into darkness. When she snuggled closer, he turned onto his side, facing away from her. He didn’t want her to feel his arousal. She curled up against his back and slid her arm around his midsection, her palm over his beating heart.