Camp Confidential 08 - Wish You Weren't Here

by Melissa J Morgan

  Jenna wouldn’t look at her. She stared at the ground. “Too little, too late, Sars,” she said quietly. “He’s the only boy I’ve ever liked. And as long as you guys are going to the social . . . I can’t just pretend it’s okay with me. I’m sorry.” She turned suddenly and stalked off down the path. Sarah was left in stunned silence.

  What just happened there? Did I just lose a friend over a boy? Sarah heard Jenna stomp down the path, and she replayed their conversation in her mind. Jenna’s been my friend forever, she mused. I can’t lose a friend over a stupid boy. Especially not a friend who stands up for you and pays attention to you and makes you feel better when you’re down.

  She turned and started walking back to the mess hall. She liked David a lot . . . but she knew what she had to do.

  chapter ELEVEN

  “It’s so cool that you have a date now, Sars! We can all get ready together . . . and all dance near each other . . . it will be so cool with all of us together!” Brynn beamed at Sarah in the flickering firelight. Sarah felt her heart sink for the hundredth time that evening.

  “Sure,” she replied unenthusiastically. “Great.”

  Campfire tonight was just too depressing. It didn’t help that Sarah had spent the whole day trying to come up with a solution to the Jenna/David problem and had come up with nothing. She was beginning to think there was no solution . . . except the obvious.

  It’s unfair of Jenna to ask this of me, she mused, watching Jenna joke with Jessie and Alyssa across the fire circle. It’s not my fault David likes me, and I like him. But . . . But Jenna was a long-term friend. David was just a boy. And as much as she liked him, she would do anything to hang on to her friends—especially now, with Abby bad-mouthing her to who-knows-who, and Alex, Valerie, Brynn, and Grace all boy-crazy and social-obsessed.

  I need all the friends I can get right now.

  Sarah heard a crunching in the leaves on the ground and turned to see David approaching her with a little square of paper. Alex spotted him before he got to her and let out a quiet little “Wooo, Sarah! Here he comes!” Sarah just turned and rolled her eyes at her. No matter how great the boy was . . . there was just no excuse to act like that.

  “Hey!” David greeted her cheerily, holding out the little piece of white paper, which Sarah now saw was a napkin folded into the shape of a frog, with eyes and everything. “I made this for you at dinner. It took me so long, I missed out on the Jell-O. But then I saw it was green, so I didn’t mind.”

  “Green’s gross,” Sarah agreed. They had so much in common.

  “Word,” said David.

  Sarah took the little frog and turned it over in her hand. It had tiny little arms and legs, and even a smiling red mouth drawn in dry-erase marker that David must have borrowed from the menu board. Looking at it made her feel bad, knowing what she was about to say. “Listen,” she said quietly, “can we talk? I need to tell you something.”

  “Sure thing,” agreed David.

  Sarah stood up. “How about over by the pagoda?”

  David shrugged. “Okay.”

  Sarah shuffled slowly over to the pagoda. Maybe if I go slowly enough, I’ll never have to tell him, she thought. But that was silly. No matter how slow she walked, the social would come eventually, and then she would have to say something to David or lose Jenna as a friend. There was just no getting around this.

  Sarah stopped in front of the pagoda and turned to David. “Listen,” she said, “I’ve been thinking a lot.”

  David nodded. “Me too!” he said. “About Spider-Man.”

  Sarah shook her head. “No. Not about Spider-Man.”

  David nodded more furiously. “Oh yes! Like, can Spider-Man swim? And if so, can he throw nets in the water? Can he catch fish with his nets? Hmmmm . . .”

  Sarah shook her head more furiously. “NO! I have not been thinking about Spider-Man. It’s great that you have. But I haven’t. I’ve been thinking about . . . the social. And us, going together.”

  David raised an eyebrow. “Are you thinking we should wear matching outfits? Because if that’s what you’re thinking, right now, that’s totally amazing . . .”

  “NO!” cried Sarah. “David, be serious! I was thinking about us going to the dance together. And I decided . . .” She took a deep breath. David was listening carefully now, and he looked a little nervous, like he sensed what she was about to say. Is that why he kept interrupting? She wondered. Because he knows what I’m getting at? Sarah sighed. If that was what he was doing, that made her heart hurt more than the little napkin-frog she was now clutching in her left hand.

  “ . . . I decided we shouldn’t go together.”

  Sarah almost couldn’t look at David as she said it, but she had to. She watched his eyes go through a range of emotions: surprise, then recognition, then hurt. She felt her heart catch. He turned away from her before she could see any more.

  “Are you serious?” he asked.

  Sarah forced herself to nod. “I am. Yeah.”

  David shook his head. “Why?” he asked. “I thought we made a good team.”

  I can’t do this, Sarah thought. I don’t know what to say. This feels too terrible.

  “I don’t know why,” she said softly.

  David looked startled. “There must be a why,” he said. “You don’t just unaccept someone’s dance invitation without a reason. So why?”

  Sarah looked at him for a moment. I have to lie. He’ll never let it go if I don’t. “I just don’t like you that way,” she said very quietly.

  But it was loud enough for David to hear. She saw the surprise in his eyes again, and then even more hurt. “You don’t, huh,” he murmured.

  “I don’t,” Sarah confirmed. She looked away—she couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. Why does this hurt so much? she wondered. It took me so long to even figure out that I liked him!

  She heard David take a deep breath, still too scared to look at him. “Okay,” he said. And then she heard footsteps walking back to the campfire.

  When Sarah looked back up, David was gone. And being alone had never felt quite so lonely.

  The next morning, Sarah stood in left field feeling ready to drop. She’d barely slept at all the night before. Each time she started to relax, she’d picture David’s hurt face as she told him she didn’t like him “that way.” And no matter how many times she pictured his expression, it hurt her to see just as much as it had the first time. I’m a monster, she thought. And worse than that, I’m a liar. I do like him that way! I’m just hurting him to make Jenna feel better.

  Now, David stood a few yards away, but he might as well have been on Mars for all the attention he was paying to Sarah. He stared straight ahead, watching the game, not interacting with her or any other player. He was like the DaveBot 2000. All the human things that made David David seemed to have been washed away.

  Since David was ignoring her, Sarah forced herself to concentrate on the game. She was playing better than ever. She hit a home run in the third inning, bringing in three points. She’d caught two fly balls so far. For the first time, it seemed like her teammates were cheering for her more than they cheered for Abby. In spite of everything that was going on with David, that was a great feeling.

  Now a girl named Julie was up at bat. She usually hit pop flies, so Sarah readied herself. There was a boy on second who kept running up, like he was going to steal a base. Abby kept turning around to toss the ball to second, bringing him back to base.

  Finally, Abby pitched the ball to Julie. Strike one. Sarah had to admit it: Abby was a great pitcher. She never lost her concentration, something Sarah herself could stand to work on.

  Abby pitched a second time. Julie swung the bat a second too late: strike two. Sarah heard murmurs running through the other team. It was the top of the ninth inning, and the Tigers were leading, 4-3.

  Abby pitched for a third time. Julie watched the ball come, and then swung the bat with a resounding crack. The ball was flying toward third b
ase. The third baseman, Jimmy, reached for it, but it barely brushed the top of his glove and kept going, bouncing once on the ground. Without thinking, Sarah started booking toward it. She held out her glove and moved faster than she’d ever moved. There’s no way I’ll get it, the rational part of her mind was saying as she ran wildly for the ball. But the other part, the athlete part, was saying, Just try.

  Sarah could hear her teammates cheering as she flew after the ball. And then, before she could think it through, she was there—and the ball landed in her glove. Moving on instinct, Sarah kept running for third base rather than taking the risk of throwing it. She was only a few yards away. She stomped on third base with the ball in her hand a split second before the base-stealer- wannabe made contact with it. Then she looked to second: Julie had run for it, but she wasn’t there yet. As fast as she could, Sarah flung the ball toward the second baseman, who caught it just before Julie slid into the base.

  “What an amazing double play!” Kimberly shouted, beaming at Sarah. “That’s three outs, game over! Great job, Sarah!”

  Sarah was hunched over third base now, trying to catch her breath. She stumbled and realized that the ankle she’d injured during the drills was throbbing again—she’d reinjured it somehow. But the pain was almost lost in the wave of hugs and cheering from her teammates. Within seconds, she was surrounded.

  “That was amazing, Sarah!” Lily cried.

  “You’re so awesome!” shouted Gillian, almost suffocating Sarah in a bear-hug.

  “You’re the star of the team!” said Jimmy.

  Teammate after teammate came up to slap Sarah five, hug her, or offer congratulations. They were making up cheers with her name in them and joking with one another about how Sarah had hidden her talents with her disastrous drill performance. Sarah was so happy, she felt like she might burst. This is what I’ve wanted this whole time, she thought. An amazing play. Everyone’s impressed. Even Abby has to admit I’m a great athlete—just like her. And then maybe she’ll drop the attitude.

  But where was Abby? The whole rest of the team was with Sarah—even David, who’d muttered a quick, “Nice play,” before disappearing back into the crowd. Abby, the captain, was nowhere to be seen. Then suddenly Sarah spotted her—across the field, talking to a girl from the other team. Sarah felt her ears burning. Her ankle throbbed, and her eyelids were heavy with lack of sleep. What is she doing? she wondered. The whole team’s over here congratulating me, but she’s too jealous to even do that. What kind of team captain is she?

  Kimberly and Keith came by to remind the Tigers that the game was over, and if they didn’t head for the mess hall soon, they’d miss lunch. Slowly, the team members dispersed and headed toward the mess hall. Sarah limped along behind them, her ankle throbbing with every step. I’m sick of this, she fumed. I’m sick of Abby and her stuck-up attitude.

  She saw Abby a few feet ahead in the crowd, her hot pink T-shirt standing out in the midday heat. Before she could stop herself, Sarah reached out and grabbed a handful of that T-shirt. Abby turned around and looked at her in surprise.

  “We have to talk,” said Sarah.

  chapter TWELVE

  Abby narrowed her eyes at Sarah. She looked surprised that Sarah was confronting her, and also a little annoyed. “Fine,” she said shortly, and followed Sarah over to a cluster of trees to the right of the mess hall.

  When they stopped, Sarah felt so mad that she thought she might explode. “What’s up with you?” she demanded loudly. Abby looked surprised, but Sarah kept going. “Did you see the play I made just now? Did you even see it?”

  “I saw it,” Abby replied coolly, folding her arms in front of her chest.

  Sarah was so frustrated she started to sputter. “You—well—okay—I mean—”

  “It was a good play, Sarah,” Abby went on, just as cool. “I was impressed. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “You think?” she cried sarcastically. “You’re the team captain, Abby. And somehow you have lots of praise for everybody but me.”

  Abby shook her head. “I’ve praised you, Sarah. Maybe not as much as you wanted to be praised.”

  “That’s not it!” Sarah shouted, really getting annoyed now. Why couldn’t Abby see it? “You’re rude to me out there, Abby. You’re mean when I play badly, and even meaner when I play well. It’s like I’m not good enough to be on the team with you.”

  Abby looked at Sarah skeptically, not saying anything.

  “Do you think you’re too cool for me since you’re this big jock at school, or something?” Abby looked a little surprised, but Sarah went on. “Because that’s not right! This is Camp Lakeview, Abby, not Winthrop Middle School. And I can be whoever I want here! And I’m a good athlete.”

  Abby frowned, shaking her head in disbelief. “You think I’m the one with the attitude?” she asked. “You think I’m the one who thinks I’m too good for you?”

  “Yes!” Sarah shouted. She doesn’t think—she can’t seriously mean—

  “You’re the stuck-up one, Sarah!” Abby yelled, her eyes blazing. “At school, you barely even talk to anyone except the other brainiacs, like Diane and them.”

  Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “But I—”

  “Here at camp, you act like you’re Miss Queen Bee because you’ve been here before. You don’t share any of your friends with me, and you don’t include me in anything you do.”

  Sarah just stood there, too surprised to speak. Miss Queen Bee? Me?! She remembered speaking sharply to Abby about the prank war, and it was true, she’d never gone out of the way to invite Abby to anything she was doing with the gang. But that was because Abby had been so standoffish, she didn’t think she’d want to come with them! But did she act standoffish so I didn’t invite her, or did I not invite her so she started to act standoffish? Sarah gasped. All this time, she’d thought it was Abby taking an attitude with her—what if she’d been the first to throw out signs of attitude? It must have been hard for Abby, coming alone to a new camp. And the first day, I acted disappointed to see her—because she was ruining my private place.

  But there was more. “That doesn’t explain the way you act in softball,” Sarah insisted. “You were mad at me when I played bad, but then you seemed even madder when I played well.”

  Abby rolled her eyes. “Think about it, Sarah. Sports are really important to me. Everyone said you were this great player. But you and that David kid, you were always goofing off and making jokes. I took the team seriously, so that annoyed me.”

  “Oh—okay,” Sarah said slowly, trying to absorb all of this new information. “But—I mean, I really wasn’t playing badly on purpose. And that doesn’t explain why you didn’t chill out when I started playing well.”

  Abby sighed. “Sarah, like I said, sports are really important to me. The teams I play on at school are really important to me.”

  Sarah nodded. “Yeah?”

  “When I saw what a great player you are, I just felt—duped. Like you’ve been keeping this a secret for who knows how long. Why didn’t you ever join any teams back home?”

  Sarah shrugged. “I dunno.” I was scared.

  Abby looked down at her feet, then back at Sarah. “I figured you thought you were too good for those teams. Like you wouldn’t have enough smart kids to talk to. When I saw how well you played out there—I thought, This girl must really not want to hang around me. Why hadn’t I ever seen you play like that? Why aren’t we friends?”

  Sarah looked at Abby in amazement. “I dunno,” she said honestly. “I’ve wondered the same thing. I think you’re a great athlete, Abby, and I haven’t been avoiding you. I just—I wish I could be more like you. I don’t know why I don’t go out for the teams at home. Maybe I just don’t want the added pressure, or maybe I’m afraid I wouldn’t make it in the first place. But I definitely don’t think I’m better than you. I’m just some shy girl with her nose in a book, and camp is my chance to be different.”

  Ab
by nodded, looking surprised. “I guess—I haven’t been fair to you,” she admitted.

  “But I haven’t been fair to you either,” Sarah said. “I’ve been so busy competing with you, I forgot that the reason we compete is we both want the same things. We have a lot in common.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Abby.

  “Look,” said Sarah, “I’m not going to promise some fairy-tale transformation, like we’ll be best friends from now on or whatever. But I’ll try to be nicer to you if you’ll do the same.”

  Abby nodded. “That sounds like a deal.”

  Sarah smiled. “And maybe I’ll go out for some team next year.”

  “Awesome.” Abby had a nice smile, Sarah realized. Slowly, they began walking toward the mess hall, where lunch was just beginning. “Hey,” Abby said suddenly, “I forgot to tell you something.”

  “What?”

  Abby turned around and punched Sarah hard in the shoulder, a big smile on her face. “Kick-butt play, Tiger!”

  Sarah stood in surprise for a second, then laughed and rubbed her arm. “Thanks,” she said. “Thanks a lot.”

  Dinner that night was so much better than the other dinners had been, and Sarah wondered whether anyone even noticed besides her and Abby.

  “Sarah made this amazing double play today in softball,” Abby told the bunkmates. “It was like, impossible. She bent time and space.”

  Sarah laughed. “Come on! It wasn’t that amazing. Besides, we’d never be doing as well as we are if it weren’t for your pitching. You’re so steady, it’s incredible.”

  Gaby looked from Abby to Sarah and back again. “Are you guys okay? Was there some big lovefest I wasn’t invited to?”

  Sarah chuckled and shook her head. “Just mutual appreciation, Gaby.” She looked at Abby and winked. “Something only true athletes understand.”

  “Hey!” Brynn said, turning to Sarah. “I heard you’re not going to the dance with David anymore. Why not?”