by Cary Fagan
I stood up. It felt weird to have everyone looking at me, so I stared at the fire.
“This happened at a camp, but I can’t remember the name. There was this kid. There was nothing special about him and nobody paid any attention to him. So one night this kid, he wakes up and can’t go back to sleep. He gets out of bed and walks past the other guys asleep in their bunks and puts on his shoes and goes outside. It’s this really beautiful night, a million stars up high and the trees looking all silvery, and the air is warm, so he walks along a path, not going anywhere special.
“And then he hears something. This scuffling and snorting noise. And he sees something moving up ahead.
“A bear. But not just any bear. The biggest bear he’s ever seen. Bigger than he thought bears could ever get.
“And then the bear hears him. It turns around. It looks at him. And then it stands up on its hind legs. And it is very, very big.”
“Oh, man,” said Tiger from the other side of the fire.
“The bear looks at him with its small black eyes and the kid sees that something is wrong with it. The way it’s kind of weaving its head back and forth. And holding its mouth open. And dripping from its teeth. And he thinks, this bear has rabies. And now he’s even more scared.
“But the bear doesn’t attack him. Instead it walks on its four enormous paws up the wooden stairs of one of the girls’ cabins.”
Three or four people whispered. I went on.
“The bear starts to rub its gigantic head against the door, up and down, up and down. And then it begins to kind of whack the side of its face against the door, like it doesn’t hurt or anything. And from inside the cabin the kid hears a scream. And then others are screaming, too.
“The kid knows he has to do something, but what? He looks around and finds a rock. It’s about the size of a fist. He throws it. The rock bounces against the bear’s shoulder and the bear roars and turns around. The kid starts running down a path. He looks behind him and sees the bear following. He runs faster than he’s ever run in his life. He runs like crazy, jumping over rocks, ducking branches. His lungs hurt but he keeps running. He knows that he can’t outrun a bear. He heads for the camp entrance. Passes the big wooden sign. Ahead is the highway but when he looks over his shoulder the bear is just about twenty feet behind him. It’s catching up, growling and snarling, foam spilling from its mouth. The kid reaches the edge of the highway but he doesn’t look for cars. He just keeps running. He hears a horn blare and sees lights coming but he runs on, right across the highway.
“And the second he gets to the other side there is the sound of screeching tires and a terrible bang and broken glass, and he looks back to see that a Jeep has run into the bear and spun out sideways. The bear is lying on the road, not moving. And then the kid sees that it’s a police vehicle and these policemen get out of the Jeep with their guns pointed and one of them says, ‘That’s it. That’s the rabid bear.’”
I heard a girl near me say, “The poor bear.”
“It had to die if it had rabies,” said an older boy. “Did he get a reward or something?”
I didn’t answer but went on. “The kid watched as the police made sure the bear was dead. They were so busy watching it and calling into their radios that they didn’t even notice him walk back across the highway. The kid walked into the camp again. He went back to his cabin. Everyone in it was still asleep. So he got into his own bed.
“In the morning everyone was talking about the bear coming into the camp. The girls were telling how it banged on their door and how scared they were. And nobody had seen the boy throw the rock or lead it away. And he didn’t say anything. He kept it to himself. He stayed the same, ordinary kid nobody really noticed.”
I sat down again.
Stuart said, “Thank you for sharing that with us, Pinky. I think I’ve heard that story. But it happened out in British Columbia, not anywhere near here. So nobody has to worry about bears. Now let’s have some hot chocolate.”
Cups were passed around and we had cookies and then the cups were gathered up again and then a couple of the counselors doused the fire and everyone headed back to their own cabins.
As I was walking, Amber came up beside me.
“I don’t think I’m going to sleep tonight.” Then she went to join the other girls in her cabin.
I got into my pajamas and then went over to the wash house to brush my teeth.
Just as I was leaving, Leonard came in.
He put his face near mine and hissed into my ear, “If he never told anyone, then how do you know about it?”
I didn’t answer. I just walked away from the light over the door of the wash house and toward the dark path that led back to the cabin.
12
THE FIX
THERE WERE ONLY FOUR DAYS left of camp and a change in the feeling of everything we did. Sort of sad but also exciting that we’d be going back to our families, our friends and a new year at school.
You’d think that we would be given more time to do whatever we wanted, but the exact opposite was true. Jerry kept us busy from morning to night, as if he wanted to pack in as much experience as possible. Flap Ears said it was so that we’d go home and talk about all the things we’d been doing and our parents would be so impressed that they’d sign us up for next summer.
Maybe that was why Jerry arranged a baseball game: our cabin versus a team of big, teenage male counselors.
We were getting ready in our cabin when Presto said, “Do you think we have any chance of winning?
“Sure,” said Flap Ears. “And Brickhouse is going to stop farting in his sleep.”
“Don’t sweat it,” said Zachary, tying up his sneakers. “We’ll win, all right.”
Zachary didn’t usually contribute to the conversation, and everybody stopped whatever they were doing.
Carrots said, “So you’re expecting a goddamn miracle.” It was the first time he’d spoken to Zachary since their fight.
“We won’t need a miracle. The game is fixed. I’ve seen it at every camp I’ve gone to. The counselors will show off for the girls, score some runs, goof around, and then at the last minute let us win. And we’re supposed to feel good about it, like we really beat them. It’s totally pathetic.”
Zachary’s words had the ring of truth. We picked up our gloves and walked to the baseball diamond.
Did they really think we were that stupid?
Yes, apparently they did. The game played out exactly as Zachary had predicted. For the first three innings, the counselors ran us into the ground. They hit grounders, fly balls, home-run smashes. They flew around the diamond, stole bases, slid home. Watching and cheering was a crowd of girl counselors and some of the other campers, including Amber.
Then they started goofing off, wearing their gloves on their heads, pretending to bang into one another. Jerry even dragged second base along with his foot, so he’d stay safe.
And in the last two innings we began to score runs. Jerry, taking his turn on the mound, lobbed us soft pitches that were easy to hit. Even Leonard hit one past second base. In the field, the counselors fumbled the ball so we could keep running.
Pretty soon we were winning.
We were lining up in batting order when Carrots said, “Zach was right. We look like a bunch of jerks.”
Carrots walked to first base, and it was Zach’s turn to bat.
“You going to do something?” Presto asked him as he headed for the plate. “Tell them what we think?” But Zach didn’t answer so we all just watched. Would he refuse to swing the bat? Would he say something? Would he turn and walk away from the diamond, something that none of us had the nerve to do?
Zach had a chance to make things right with the whole cabin, including Carrots. To stand up for all of us.
And what did he do? He took his st
ance, waited for the pitch, and hit the ball. He ran to first, saw the outfielder deliberately fumble over it, and headed for second. The counselor at second, a beefy guy named Lou who probably meant to go the other way, stepped right into Zach as he was making for the base. Zach grunted as he went over Lou’s hip, landing in the dust. He got up, brushed himself off and limped back to the base.
He didn’t say a word.
Carrots shook his head as he picked up the bat.
After lunch came swimming, free time, archery, arts and crafts, dinner (with a special dessert — ice cream in little paper cups), and then a production of Grease by the oldest kids. Zach came to everything, limping from his collision during the baseball game. When he put his bathing suit on, I saw the bruise on his leg.
During free time, he and Amber took a canoe out on the lake and disappeared behind the trees along the shore.
After dark, the temperature dropped. Jerry made us take showers and we shivered as we made our way back to the cabin. In bed, I lay with my legs curled up, the sheets still icy.
“I don’t get it,” Carrots said into the dark. We all knew who he was talking to. “Why didn’t you do something? You knew it was fixed but you played the game anyway.”
Silence for a moment. “Because I didn’t feel like it.”
“I know why,” Leonard said. “It’s obvious. Because camp is almost over. You only have to last three more days. There isn’t any point in ending up at military school just for a stupid ball game.”
“Whatever,” Zachary said.
I thought Leonard was right, but I was too tired to think about it anymore. I couldn’t fight sleep.
13
A REALLY, REALLY BAD IDEA
SOMEBODY BEGAN SHAKING MY shoulder, dragging me up from the bottom of a deep well.
“Wake up. Come on, Pinky, open your eyes.”
“What? Is something wrong?”
“I need your help. Get dressed.”
I sat up mechanically and stared at the dark forms sleeping all around me. Zachary was kneeling by my bed, already dressed.
“What time is it?” I said.
“I don’t know exactly. Around two. Now come on, here are your pants.”
I began to pull my jeans up over my pajamas.
“Why are we getting up? We’re going to get in real trouble.”
“Not if you keep your voice down. Let’s go.”
I put on my sneakers and followed Zachary out the door, careful not to let it slam.
It was chilly out, and I wished I’d put on a jacket. Zachary was walking quickly down the path, even with the limp from his bruise, and I stumbled to catch up with him.
“Zachary, stop. We can’t go out in the middle of the night. If they catch us you’ll be kicked out for sure and then you’ll have to go to that military school in Pennsylvania. Camp’s almost over. Don’t screw up now.”
“I’m not going to screw up. Come on.”
He continued down the path, creeping past the girls’ cabins and down to the beach. We walked past the docks until we got to the rowboats.
He picked up a lifejacket and pushed it into my arms.
“Put it on.”
“Okay, but I’m not getting into a boat.”
Zachary threw a couple of oars into a rowboat and untied it from the dock. Then he kicked off his shoes, pulled off his shirt and pushed down his jeans.
He had a bathing suit on underneath.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “I’ll do the Big Swim alone. And if I get tired and drown it’ll be your fault.”
“You want to do the Big Swim? Now?”
“Yup.”
“This is a really, really bad idea.”
Zach turned to me and smiled. “Don’t worry so much about everything. I liked how that kid in your story rescued everyone from the bear and kept it to himself. It would be pretty cool to have a secret like that. Relax, Pinky. It’ll be fun.”
“Fun? How could this possibly be fun?”
I heard something, a branch crackling underfoot. My heart jumped.
If it was a counselor, we were fried.
Zach and I stared at the stand of trees above the water, but it was too dark to see much.
Then a figure stepped away from the trees, too short to be a counselor. Even before it reached us, I knew it was Amber.
“Hey,” she said as she came up to us. “I’ve been waiting like a half hour.”
“Aw, man, I told you not to come.”
“You told Amber about this great plan and not me?”
Zach shrugged. Then he went to the end of the dock and slipped into the water.
Amber looked at me.
“Come on,” she said.
We scrambled into the boat, and while she pushed it off with her hand, I struggled to get the oars into the oarlocks.
I looked for Zachary but could see only the dark, shining water reflecting the moonlight.
I stroked the oars and Amber pointed and said, “There,” and I saw his head, a darker form against the water.
“Watch it!” he spluttered. “You almost brained me with the oar.”
“Sorry.”
“The water is like ice.”
“Come into the boat.”
But he started to swim, doing the crawl, his strongest stroke. I rowed to keep ahead, my eyes always on him. I didn’t know what I would do if he started to drown. At the start of camp we’d had a lesson in performing artificial respiration, but I could hardly remember it. Were you supposed to pinch the nose or not?
Please, I said silently, don’t make me have to save Zachary.
At least there was no wind to make the rowing harder. The night was clear, and my senses, groggy at first from sleep, had woken up.
“He’s not going in a straight line,” Amber said. “I think it’s because of his hurt leg. He keeps having to correct himself, which means he’s swimming farther than he needs to.”
She was wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans and sneakers without socks. Her hands were clutching the side of the boat and she leaned forward, as if she was trying to help Zachary swim. But then she let go and turned around toward me. She looked up at the sky.
“It’s an unbelievable night, isn’t it? We’ll never forget this.”
“I’d like to forget it already.”
“Don’t spoil it.”
“Sorry.”
“I hate the last day of camp. I always cry. I mean, I’m glad to be going home. But it feels like I’m leaving the country I belong to or something.”
Did camp feel like my country? I didn’t think so. Maybe it felt more like a foreign country, and I was finally learning to understand the language.
I wondered if on the last day, Amber would run up to me in front of the buses that were going to take us to the city, throw her arms around me and cry.
That would be something to look forward to.
It was a long time before I could see, over my shoulder, the trees above the shoreline of Downing Island. Zachary had changed his stroke a few times but was now back to a slow and steady crawl.
At last we got to the rocks, where Zachary clung, breathing heavily, his lips purple even in the moonlight.
Now that I had stopped rowing, I could feel the ache in my arms.
“It took me longer than I expected,” he panted.
“Just getting here’s pretty amazing, Zach. Why don’t you get in and we’ll row back?”
“That’s a good idea,” said Amber. “Nobody else our age could get this far.”
“I want to do the whole thing.” He took a few slow breaths. “You know what I was thinking about? My dad. How if something happened to me he’d be all alone. I never thought about that before.”
&nbs
p; He let go of the rock, vanishing under water. Amber looked at me with wide eyes and then we both turned to the water. A moment later he came up and started to swim.
“Here, let me row,” she said. My arms really ached now and I was glad to change places. She turned the boat after him. Zach looked as if he was having trouble raising his head above the water to take a breath. His bruised leg seemed to be dragging more. He messed up his stroke, bobbed under and came up coughing. When he could breathe again he switched to the sidestroke.
Amber pulled the boat in front of him. She rowed steadily, her eyes always on Zach.
I thought how it was too bad that everyone in camp couldn’t know that Zach was making the Big Swim. They could be cheering him on. His name could go up on the plaque.
Slowly, slowly, we headed toward the beach. Zachary was moving at maybe half the speed he had been going the other way.
How long had we been out here? I couldn’t tell, but it felt like hours.
Zachary turned over and began to do the backstroke. I could hear his quick, shallow breathing. Amber’s arms must have been getting tired because she grimaced every time she pulled the oars through the water.
“Do you want me to take over again?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Amber?”
“Yes?”
Now was my chance. If I didn’t tell her how I felt, I never would. It probably wouldn’t matter. There was no way I could compare to Zach, but at least she would know.
“Amber,” I said, turning toward her, “I just want you to know that I think you’re – ”
“He’s gone under!” Amber cried. “Where is he?”
I turned back and looked for Zachary, but I couldn’t see him. Had he surfaced somewhere ahead? I looked but still couldn’t see him.
“Zachary!” I shouted.
His head broke the glimmering surface of the water. His arms flailed and he coughed weakly, slipped under, bobbed up again. Amber dug in one oar to turn us around and then maneuvered us alongside him.
I grabbed Zach’s wrists. He let me haul him into the boat, scraping his stomach along the side. He lay back on the wooden slats coughing.
