How Hard Can Love Be?

by Holly Bourne

  “How are you? Calvin, is it?” I asked him.

  He smiled and used his pudgy hand to wipe away the sweat.

  “Man, am I BEAT,” he said, all American. I decided then that I loved him.

  “Bedtime soon. But we have one last dance.”

  He stuffed his hands deep into his shorts pockets. “No one will dance with me,” he mumbled towards the ground.

  I was angry already – this didn’t help. Why were kids so cruel? Everyone always moaned on about “the innocence of children”, whereas, from what I remembered on the playground, children were mostly dickheads to each other. If you were fat, if you were tall, if you had red hair, if you had a weird mum who always dragged you in late, smelling a bit…well, there was no “innocence” in what I had shouted at me.

  “That’s because I asked everyone if I could have the first dance with you.” I took Calvin’s hand and twirled him around the campfire, glaring at anyone staring at us. He lost his self-consciousness pretty quickly and soon he was spinning me round uncontrollably, giggling…

  “Oww…Calvin…I’ll be sick.”

  He laughed harder and we spun and spun and spun.

  The campfire blurred past me, snatches of people whizzing by as I got dizzier and dizzier.

  The fire…Whinnie galloping in a circle with some of Dumbledore’s Army…the darkness of the edge of the forest…the fire…Mum staring at me again, this time smiling…the forest…the fire…Melody approaching Kyle and starting her usual gyrating-dance against him…the forest…the fire…Kyle smiling…

  “Whoa, I think it’s time to stop.” I let go of Calvin’s hands. My feet turned under me, my knees buckled.

  “Thank you for the dance,” I said. “It was very…umm… spinny.”

  Then Bumface Kevin blew hard on his whistle, signalling bedtime.

  SITUATIONS THAT ARE DESTINED TO FAIL:

  Childhood memories

  +

  A mother who can’t remember them

  Twelve

  As predicted, it took for ever to get Whinnie’s cabin to go to sleep.

  “But I miss my mommy,” one whined, sitting up for the eighth time in ten minutes.

  I took a deep breath. My temper was fraying, all my energy reserves had gone.

  “It’s good to get used to missing your mommy,” I said. “When you’re older, you’ll have to spend lots of time away from your mother.”

  Especially if she emigrates, and doesn’t take you with her.

  “But I don’t WANT to do that,” the kid protested, sitting up further.

  I firmly pushed her back into her pillow. “Yes, well, life is all about doing things you don’t want to do.”

  I saw the moment on her face when she decided to cry, but Whinnie came barrelling over, just in time.

  “Hey, do you want the special camp teddy tonight?” she whispered, so as not to wake the children who had managed to get to sleep. Whinnie was already in her baggy Winnie the Pooh pyjamas, whereas I was still in camp uniform.

  I stank of bonfire. Ever since I’d gotten to this camp, I’d stank of bonfire.

  The girl nodded and Whinnie pulled out a moth-eaten Winnie the Pooh bear. She handed it to the girl carefully.

  “This is our very special cabin Pooh Bear. Now, he’s a bit homesick too, so will you look after him tonight and let him know everything is okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Brilliant. Now, try and get some sleep.”

  Whinnie and I tiptoed away and we heard the girl muttering to the teddy bear. “Now, Pooh Bear, there’s no need to be scared. I miss home too. But we’re at camp. And Whinnie is so nice, isn’t she? She’ll take care of us.” Her voice got sleepier until it faded to nothing. All I could hear were the snorts and snuffles of sleeping children.

  Whinnie beckoned to me to leave the cabin, and I crept out after her. The air had cooled – it goosebumped my arms. It felt nice. Whinnie was already perched on the steps. I closed the door as slowly as I could so it didn’t squeak.

  “Thanks for that,” I said. My voice seemed loud in the quiet of the forest. I joined her on the step.

  “It’s okay.”

  We both fell quiet and listened to the sounds of the forest – the buzzing of the insects I still didn’t know the name of, the giggles of a cabin next door that hadn’t succeeded in getting its inhabitants to bed. My eyes closed, my head hung.

  “You okay, Amber?”

  I jerked up. “Yep. Why? Why is everyone asking me that today?”

  “Whoa, calm down. It’s just, it’s your first day of camp. It’s madness. Last year, I fell asleep on the first night before the children. They trashed the place while I slept, decorating it with toothpaste.”

  I looked back at her. “Sorry. Just Kyle was on my case earlier.”

  “You mean when you guys were talking at the campfire?”

  I nodded. “It’s like he’s trying to win some award for the world’s nicest guy or something…”

  Whinnie rolled her eyes. “I know, right? What a jerk.”

  I laughed.

  “He is just that bit too perfect, isn’t he?” Whinnie continued. “I wonder why he tries so hard…”

  Most of the cabins around us were dark now. Melody’s was only next door. Hers had been dark for ages.

  “I don’t like people asking me about my personal life,” I admitted.

  “I’ve noticed. You do know it’s in our culture though, to ask such things.”

  I smiled into the blackness. “I’m beginning to figure that out.”

  More comfortable silence. Whinnie just had a calming way about her. I barely knew her, and yet I felt just…okay sitting with her next to me, kind of like how it felt with the girls back home.

  “When you were dancing with Calvin,” Whinnie said, “I overheard Melody asking Kyle to sneak out and meet her tonight. She said they should ‘mark the official start of camp together’.”

  I turned to look at her. “Seriously?”

  Whinnie nodded.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he didn’t think his children would sleep tonight.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I dunno.”

  I thought of Kyle’s arms guiding me through the dark as he steered me home my first night. I thought of his arms around Melody as they danced together.

  Friendship. Sex.

  One for me. One for Melody.

  I let it sink in – feeling angry at how much I cared. Confused by it. It’s not like I knew either of them, not really.

  “You should go to bed,” Whinnie said. “We have canoeing tomorrow.”

  I groaned. “Don’t remind me. There’s no way my legs will fit into a bloody canoe.”

  “And there’s no way my butt will fit into a canoe. It’s going to be like that Winnie the Pooh story where he eats too much honey and gets stuck in that hole.”

  “Shall we go in the same one and just drown ourselves?” I asked.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  I got up, brushing the dust off my bum. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

  “Cool. See you tomorrow…and Amber?”

  I turned round on my heels in the dust. “Yep?”

  “I’m glad we’ve been put in the same group.”

  Her words broke my anger a bit. I smiled.

  “Me too.”

  The lights in Kevin’s cabin were still on and I made my way towards them reluctantly, wishing Mum and Kevin were asleep.

  I peered through the window before I opened the door. They weren’t both asleep.

  They looked like love personified, cuddled up on the dingy sofa – Mum’s feet in his hands as he massaged them.

  I stepped in and slammed the door – they both jumped and Mum’s feet pulled away from Kevin. He stood up, all grinny grinnington, which made his bumchin stretch out wider.

  “Hey, Amber. Did the kids go to bed okay?” he asked.

  I shrugged, ignoring him, glaring at Mum.
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  “You didn’t put me in Gryffindor.”

  Mum did her confused-victim face and stood up.

  “What?”

  I grabbed a glass from the countertop, filled it at the sink, drained it, and then slammed it down without washing it.

  “Your own daughter. You didn’t put your own daughter in Gryffindor?”

  It sounded SO pathetic, but…but…

  Kevin and Mum looked at each other conspiratorially, all aren’t-teens-crazy?

  “I put you with your friends. I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Plus,” Kevin butted in. “Your mum didn’t choose it. The sorting hat did.”

  I gave him my very best you’re-an-idiot face.

  “Happy? You didn’t even sort me into a real house! What the fucking fuck is Dumbledore’s Army anyway?”

  “Language,” Kevin warned but I ignored him. Again.

  Mum looked confused, then sad, then cross, then confused again.

  “I thought you’d like Dumbledore’s Army? That’s the best one! Harry and his friends made that group themselves; it’s even more special than an actual Hogwarts House.”

  If I’d been less angry and less tired, I could maybe have taken myself out of the situation and heard how crazy it sounded. And maybe, yes maybe, she really did think Dumbledore’s Army was better… But I was angry, and I was tired, and my OWN MOTHER hadn’t sorted me into the same house as Harry Potter.

  I started towards my room but remembered something and stopped.

  “PLUS,” I said, my voice even louder. “You got RID of Slytherin?! I mean, what kind of person are you?!”

  Mum cowered. Kevin answered. His face was red, his smile totally gone.

  “We had to get rid of Slytherin,” he told me. “There were so many complaints last year when kids got sorted into there. And, Amber, you are NOT to talk to us like that. Do you hear me?” I was breaking him down again… I felt triumphant and disgusted.

  I gave him my death-glare then. “A,” I said, “I wasn’t talking to you. And, B, why didn’t you tell those stupid fucking Americans to read the damn books and realize what idiots their kids are?”

  “AMBER!” he yelled. “Don’t make me call your father. If you don’t respect us and the camp rules, we’ll have to discuss sending you home.”

  Dad. He’d emailed to check I’d arrived okay, but I was deliberately not answering. I was still angry about the scene at the airport, about him not sticking up for me. And I was angry at Kevin, and Mum, and myself for being so stupid for thinking my trip could’ve turned out any better than this.

  I turned once more, looking at Mum, pleading with her to realize why I was so upset (knowing Kevin would never dare call Dad anyway). My voice caught. “You knew,” I whispered. “You knew how much it meant to me…”

  Her eyes darted to and fro.

  “Knew how much what meant to you?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to say the word “Gryffindor” again; it would sound so stupid. But she should’ve known. We read them every night. We queued with our cloaks on at midnight. And I’d asked her, night after night, “Mummy, what house would I be sorted into?” And she’d tickled me and said, “Amber, I’ve already said! Of course you’d be in the same house as Hermione.” Then she’d pull one of my frizzy curls, unwinding it, then letting it go so it sprang back up. “With hair like this.” And I’d laughed, but waited for the second half. “And because you’re brave, Amber, aren’t you? You’re a fighter. You never cry, do you, big girl? My big strong girl. Of course you’d be in Gryffindor…”

  I looked at her, over the tiny kitchen table – wearing her wholesome chequered shirt, smelling of wholesome bonfire. She looked so confused.

  I got it.

  “You don’t remember…”

  And the tiredness I’d been fighting all day hit me like a cartoon tonne falling from the sky.

  Of course she didn’t remember. Every childhood moment that meant anything to me was lost to her. She’d stopped making memories the day she came back from the hospital. Ten years ago…

  I’d shared my childhood with a ghost, a ghost with amnesia.

  “Remember what, hon?”

  “Amber, you’ve got to stop losing your temper like this!” Kevin had regained some control in his voice but his face was still red.

  “I’m going to bed.” I could hardly get the words out.

  “Don’t you think you should apologize?” Mum asked. On Kevin’s side, always on his side.

  If I didn’t want to sleep with every inch of my body, there would’ve been so many comebacks.

  Shouldn’t you be the one apologizing? (the best)

  I apologize for ever coming here (childish)

  I’m sorry you’re such a fuck-up (hurtful)

  Sorry for ever being born! (most childish)

  But I was too tired to be brave, brave like a Gryffindor.

  “Sorry.”

  And I slumped onto my bed and ripped up the sketch I’d made of Mum and me on the aeroplane until it made the most delicate of confetti.

  SITUATIONS THAT ARE DESTINED TO FAIL:

  Hating another girl

  +

  Trying to get your feminist friends to bitch about her with you

  Thirteen

  The computer screen was completely black, apart from one scary night-vision eye.

  “Lottie.” I sighed. “Can you not get your camera working? All I can see is your eyeliner.”

  Her green eye blinked.

  “Is it not working?”

  “Nope.”

  “Hang on.” Evie’s voice floated from the speakers of Kevin’s computer. There was a flash and my friends came into focus. Lottie was right up in the camera, so much so I could see a booger up her nostril. Evie was further back.

  They both smiled and waved. I waved back, my heart hurting for them.

  “I can see you now.”

  “Good,” said Lottie. “Because I put eyeliner on, just for you.”

  I touched my chest. “I’m touched.”

  “Yes, well you’re worth it, my transatlantic pal.”

  “How are you guys anyway? What time is it over there?”

  Evie looked at the clock behind her. I could tell they were in Evie’s room by the general cleanliness.

  “Just coming up to eight. And we’re good. Though it would be better if you were here of course…” Lottie interrupted her. “Who were those fit guys we saw?” she demanded.

  But Evie interrupted her. “BECHDEL TEST,” she yelled. “Seriously, Lottie? We’re going to start by asking Amber about hot boys?”

  Lottie, to be fair, pretended to look vaguely ashamed of herself. “Sorry, I got excited. Amber, tell me about your hopes and dreams and thoughts and feelings, before we get onto the boys.”

  I giggled, so did Evie.

  “Umm – I hope that’s not the only reason you’re talking to me. I dream about someone finally combining cheese and chocolate into one incredible snack food. I think you’re not listening properly because you’re a horrific feminist and general pervert. I feel you’re not even going to apologize for it, because you’re grinning right now!”

  Lottie was sniggering. “Brilliant. Bechdel passed. NOW – who were those fit guys we saw?”

  Evie objected again, while I said, “Who?” innocently, though I knew who she was talking about.

  “Those guys,” she continued, ignoring Evie. “The ones we saw on the webcam. Amber, I’m so jealous! They looked like GODS, all tanned and with accents. And both of them were taller than you!”

  “Oh? Russ and Kyle? Yeah, we’re just working in the same team.”

  “YOU LOVE THEM!”

  “What?”

  “How can you not? One looks like he just walked out of an Abercrombie & Fitch advert, and the other looks like Jacob Black’s hotter and less weird-falling-in-love-with-children-inclined brother.”

  “Russ lives on a reservation,” I explained.

  “Oh, be still my beating
loins,” Lottie said, fanning herself.

  “You’re turned on by guys who live on reservations?”

  “I’m turned on by TANNED guys who can probably build their own fires and tell me hot stories about the history of willow trees looking all sexy by the fire they built.”

  Evie and I raised our eyebrows at each other.

  “I’m pretty sure Russ said he spends most of his time inside, playing his video games…”

  “Oh, screw him then. Go for the Adonis.”

  “Kyle?”

  I tucked my hair back to stop it sticking to my neck in the midday heat. I was on my lunch hour, cramming in time with the girls before the dreaded canoeing later. I’d hardly slept, despite being so tired. I’d already spent the morning playing gross “trust” exercises, involving the children launching themselves into the air with their eyes closed, relying on us to catch them. As a result of my tiredness, I couldn’t control my facial expressions.

  “Amber, you’re blushing!” Lottie screeched, pointing at the screen. “You’re blushing AND nervously biting your lip. You fancy the Adonis guy!”

  “I don’t,” I protested, sounding like someone who’d farted trying to pretend it wasn’t them. “We just work together.”

  Evie’s face got closer to the screen. “You really are red, Amber.”

  “Yes, well, it’s ten million degrees out here.”

  “Jealous! It’s rained here all week… Do you like him, Amber?”

  Was there any point pretending I didn’t?

  “Everyone likes him,” I admitted. “He looks like…well…that. He was bloody Prom King. He’s won a scholarship for smartness. He cares about everyone and oozes joy and loveliness wherever he goes. He’s like a litmus test for sex drive.” I thought about it. “Male and female sex drive, basically.”

  “But do you like him like him?” Lottie pressed. “And since when the hell have you known what a litmus test is?”

  I looked away from the webcam and mumbled.

  “What was that, mumbly?” Evie asked.

  I sighed and looked back up.

  “I said, I don’t really know him. And there’s no point even if I do like him. He likes someone else.”

  My friends, bless them, gasped in outrage.

  “Who is this cretin?” Lottie demanded.