Sasquatch, Love, and Other Imaginary Things

by Betsy Aldredge

  —Sophie Berger, volunteer, North Ohio Animal Shelter and Sanctuary

  The walk back to camp was unnervingly quiet, other than the occasional branch breaking under my feet, or the buzzing of mosquitoes in my ear. I never noticed before how much I relied on my big mouth in uncomfortable situations. But this was one situation I couldn’t talk my way out of. Nothing I said would have made it any better, so I willed my lips to stay shut.

  Devan rolled his shoulder and issued a sigh, but otherwise seemed more than willing to pretend to be in a silent movie.

  Halfway there Beth and Dr. Sawyer pulled up in the Jeep. I guessed Hal must have called them ahead of time.

  Dr. Sawyer gave us a little salute. “Hey there,” he said, reaching out his hand to help Devan into the Jeep. The doctor took my makeshift sling off of Devan and handed it to me with a grin before pulling out a real one for him.

  “Can I take a look?” the doctor asked Devan as he unwrapped his injured arm. “Nice job, Samantha!” He whistled to show how impressed he was. “Devan, you’re very lucky to have been with this young lady.”

  “Quite.” Devan’s dry tone suggested he felt exactly the opposite of lucky.

  “Samantha, you’d make a great medic out in the field if you ever wanted to join the army.”

  It was something I’d considered in the past, as a way to pay for medical training, but I ruled it out. I couldn’t imagine being in a war zone, especially after everything Devan told me about his parents.

  “No thanks. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  “Ha!” Devan scoffed, earning a death glare from me.

  I might have even grinned a bit when the doctor wrapped a fresh bandage so tightly that Devan yelped.

  The doctor patted Devan on the shoulder. “Well, kid,” he said. “You’re going to be fine. As Samantha probably told you, it’s sprained, not broken, but try to take some time to rest. Maybe with a pretty nurse?” Dr. Sawyer’s eyes twinkled. Clearly, he had completely missed the palpable animosity between Devan and me.

  Carefully avoiding Devan’s eyes, I smiled at the doctor. “No offense, but I hope we don’t see you again.”

  “None taken.” He shook my hand warmly and smiled. “Stay healthy.”

  I declined the ride in the Jeep that Beth offered. I couldn’t wait to get away from Devan and have a few moments alone to digest all that had happened in the previous two days. As the Jeep drove away, Devan turned to look at me over his shoulder. I crossed my arms and watched him go.

  I trudged the last quarter of a mile toward my campsite, suddenly feeling the full exhaustion of a sleepless night, followed by a very emotionally charged day.

  Sophie stood behind one of the tents, out of sight of the remote cameras, and as far as possible from my mom and Lyssa, who were yelling and crying.

  I sidled up next to her. “Hey, you okay?”

  She jumped. “Oh! I didn’t hear you come up the hill.”

  “I can’t imagine why. It’s so quiet and peaceful here,” I said, pursing my lips.

  She threw her arms around me, and started bawling. Stunned, I returned her hug and didn’t say anything for a few moments.

  “Is this about Lyssa?” I asked.

  “No. It’s about Kyle,” Sophie said in between sobs.

  “What happened?” My stomach dropped with dread.

  “I don’t know!” Sophie said, tears running down her cheeks “We had such a nice time together, then the cameras were off, and he told me that he has to concentrate on the competition.” She wiped her red-rimmed eyes on her arm. “He said I’m a distraction, and he needed space. How can he need space when we never really dated?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, pausing to answer her. Even though I knew it wasn’t entirely Devan’s fault, I blamed him. He must have convinced Kyle to break up with Sophie because of the challenge and Dr. DeGrouch. “So he waited until the middle of the challenge to end it with you?”

  Sophie nodded and loudly sniffled. She was a goopy mess. “This is pathetic,” she choked out. “You can’t break up with someone you barely know, right?”

  “It’s not pathetic. It’s longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.”

  “Our family is so embarrassing. It’s no wonder he got scared off.” She started crying again.

  “This isn’t fair,” I said with more force than I intended.

  Sophie, who was usually so composed in a yoga teacher kind of way, struggled to catch her breath in between sobs. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to cry over a guy. I’m not that pitiful.” She hiccupped and choked at the same time. “It’s more about wanting what I can’t have, like going to a great college and dating someone like Kyle, and for a little while, I forgot about all that . . .”

  My head throbbed from everything I was holding back from my sister. I took a deep breath and said, “Kyle does like you. I think he’s just confused about his priorities. That DeGraw lady was all over them to focus on winning and forget about being nice human beings.”

  Sophie nodded and dabbed at her eyes one more time.

  “So, what else did I miss?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Mom’s going apoplectic over Lyssa’s adult film debut. Lyssa said it’s no big deal. That it will help us win. Mom and Dad talked to Colin who wouldn’t do anything.” Sophie wrung her hands. A stray hair fell in front of her eyes.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised, but it still sucks.” I moved the offending hair back behind my sister’s ear. “How are we related to them, again?”

  My father sat quietly watching from the sidelines, while my mother was confiscating clothes from Lyssa’s tent, which was a little like closing the barn door after the horse escaped. “No!” Lyssa shouted. “Those are my favorite shorts,” she said. “I promise I won’t wear them on television.”

  “Ugh. I hate when people automatically blame the girl because of what she wears,” I said.

  Sophie nodded. “And what about Jake? It was just as much his fault as Lyssa’s. If not more. He’s the one with the girlfriend and the paparazzi following.”

  “Yeah, I doubt he’s crying now,” I said, frowning. “I guess I better go into the breach and see if I can help.”

  My sister gave me the hint of a smile. “Better you than me. I’m awful in a crisis. I never know what to say.”

  “I don’t either. I just make shit up and try to calm everyone down. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t,” I said.

  Sophie crawled into our tent out of the line of fire.

  I stomped into the fray and my mom immediately grabbed my arm and dragged me over to Lyssa’s tent. My dad had joined them, too. “Myron, tell your daughter what a foolish thing she did. Tell Lyssa that she’ll end up a joke on the Internet and no nice boy will want to date her now.”

  I pulled my arm away from her and gave Lyssa a sympathetic glance. Her face was so pale, I worried she would faint. Lyssa retreated to her tent and zipped the door closed.

  “Mom! This isn’t helping,” I said. “It’s done and we can’t undo it.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be as bad if you hadn’t decided to punch that boy and swear a blue streak!”

  I was miserable. “I know. I agree. I don’t know how it happened. I just lost it.”

  My mom huffed, “Well, I don’t know what to say. You girls have truly embarrassed the whole family.”

  “We’re embarrassing?” I snapped at my mom. “Don’t you realize how your ridiculous ‘Wood Ape’ obsession has ruined all of our lives? We’ve been the laughingstock of our school since sixth grade when you were interviewed for the Shopper’s News!”

  Her mouth fell open. “Samantha, I . . . I had no idea you hated all this so much . . . I’m sorry . . . I never meant to . . .” Her face crumpled and she burst into tears. She turned and zipped herself into her tent.

  I called after her, “Mom, I’m sorry. I was angry. I didn’t mean it.” But she didn’t respond.

  Now it was just me and my dad, who waved for me
to join him on one side of the tree line.

  “Dad, I only said that about Bigfoot because I was upset with Mom. I feel terrible.”

  “It’s okay, Sammy,” he said. “I understand. And I’m sorry you always seem to be in the middle of everything.” He drew little circles in the dirt with his foot. “I feel awful that I exposed you girls to this pressure. It’s hard enough being a teen without cameras watching. I just thought it would be fun and that we could maybe win some money for college.”

  “We still can. It’s not over yet. Not until the fat Sasquatch sings, right?”

  “Right.” He grasped my hand and gave me a weak smile. “Take care of yourself, Sammy. Believe it or not, we’ll be fine. I’ll figure out how to send you to school. It may have to be a state school, but more than anyone else, it would be good for you to get away from the rest of us. Find out who you are when you don’t have to worry so much about everyone else.”

  It was the most serious I’d seen my dad in a while. I could tell he was much more upset than he let on earlier.

  “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it. I really do, but I know about the bank calling.”

  I didn’t think it was possible, but his face fell even further. “Dad, I won’t bankrupt the family. I’ll find another way. Maybe I’ll sell Lyssa’s tape.”

  My dad just grimaced at my attempt at humor.

  “Too soon?” I asked.

  “Let me do the worrying, and the joking, too,” he said.

  “At least mine are funny.” I attempted a small grin, which went unanswered.

  “I’m serious, Sammy. You take on too much. Your mother and I will handle Lyssa, and Sophie can manage herself. You can’t control everything.”

  I nodded. Maybe he was right. All the worrying I did, and I still couldn’t fix anything for either of my sisters. And I certainly messed things up for myself, too.

  “I better go check on your mom,” he said, and climbed into their tent.

  I was alone, surrounded by tents filled with my weeping family. I plopped down, defeated, onto a log and tried to let them cry it out like cranky babies. But, it was impossible.

  “Oh, screw it.” This whole situation was absurd, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I jumped back up, scraping my hand on the rough bark in the process. “Enough! There isn’t a show, or a contract, or money, or even a college important enough to put our family through this,” I hollered.

  My bleary-eyed sisters and red-eyed parents emerged from their tents when they heard me yelling.

  “Seriously. Let’s just walk away and quit,” I said.

  When no one answered me, I continued. “I’ll start!” Stepping back and making a megaphone around my mouth with my hands, I called out, “I quit! You hear that? Colin? Hal? Squatch? I don’t care if you exist. I’m done with all of you! I QUIT!” I shouted so loudly my throat hurt. I probably blew out the microphones attached to the cameras in the trees.

  I looked around at my family, waiting for one of them to quit along with me, but they were surprisingly quiet.

  My dad’s eyebrows joined together in solidarity. “We’re not quitters, Samantha.”

  My mom nodded and stood behind Lyssa, wrapping her arms around her daughter. She kissed my sister’s cheek. “We’ll get through this. It’s not all on you.”

  Lyssa started to cry again, but she nodded through her tears.

  “Sophie, how about you?” I asked.

  She studied her feet. “I don’t crave the spotlight, but I’m not ready to quit. Especially not when we have a good shot of winning.”

  “You sure?” I asked.

  Sophie met my eyes and nodded quickly.

  “Fine. Okay, it’s settled. We won’t quit,” I said with a scratchy throat. The woods around us were silent. “Do you think I need to take back my resignation?”

  “No. We got it.” Colin’s voice echoed from behind a nearby tree. He and Hal stepped out into view and gave me a thumbs-up.

  “Can you redo the quitting scene again? So I can get a second angle?” Hal asked, positioning his camera on his shoulder.

  “Don’t push me,” I said, wiping my bloody hand on my pants, and wondering if I was doing the right thing or not.

  Chapter 25

  “Some people believe that Bigfoot is the living ancestor of a giant ape called Gigantopithecus who roamed Asia millions of years ago. I’m not convinced. It would be hard to miss bones that size, never mind actual animals.”

  —Dr. Roberta DeGraw, advisory expert for “Myth Gnomers”

  Luckily, we weren’t called on set until late the next morning. Sleep, even in a duct-taped tent with my older sister snoring in my ear, was exactly what I needed. I woke with awful breath and tangled hair, but also a fire in my belly. Instead of blaming it on the canned beans I ate, I chalked the feeling in my stomach up to a new resolution to kick both British and Bigfoot butt and go home. And in order to do that, I needed a pilfered Pop-Tart. Stat.

  While still in the tent, I poked Sophie with the box, which I had kept hidden in my backpack. Fortunately, no bears had come sniffing around in the night.

  “Ouch! What is that?”

  “Pop-Tarts. Stolen ones from the cabin. They taste better that way,” I said.

  Without opening her eyes, my sister held out her hand and made a grabbing motion. “Gimme.”

  I unwrapped the foil and handed her one.

  “Thanks,” she said while chewing the dry part. “Yuck! This isn’t cinnamon.” Her eyes opened wide and she grimaced as if offended by the fake blueberry filling.

  “Someone ate all of the good flavors. I could only get my hands on the blueberry ones. Do you not want any?”

  “I didn’t say that.” She sat up and wiped the crumbs from her mouth and the sleep from her eyes, then went back to chewing, loudly.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked. Her color was better, but she was still looking thin and tired. And even still, she was lovely in the morning. It was more than a little unfair.

  “Better; although, I guess I would have to be, compared to a couple of days ago.” Sophie let out a wistful sigh and flopped back onto her pillow sporting a bittersweet smile.

  “What’s with the Mona Lisa look?” I asked.

  “I was just remembering how sweet Kyle was when I was sick. He took care of me and kissed my cheek and forehead.”

  I wiped the last crumb off her chin. “Yeah, but Grandma used to do that, too,” I said. “Did he make you red Jell-O with little pieces of fruit in it?”

  Sophie sat up again and whacked me with her pillow. “I didn’t say he acted like Grandma. He didn’t smell like sugar-free oatmeal cookies, or call me anything in Yiddish.”

  “I would hope not. It’s not a very sexy language,” I said.

  “Grandpa would probably disagree.”

  “Ew!” I threw the pillow back. Sophie’s eyes got misty, and she stopped laughing and sighed. “What I was going to tell you, before you interrupted to discuss Grandma’s sex life, is that Kyle had said he couldn’t wait to kiss me for real, when I was feeling better.”

  I was in no position to offer her advice. My own recent kissing session had been such a disaster. Not that I was ready to talk about it.

  “That’s really sweet,” I said. “I’d assumed he already made a move.”

  My sister’s lips turned down a little more. She waved the rest of her breakfast pastry in frustration. “How could he? Devan and Caroline were always there. Plus, I was really sick and phlegm and kissing don’t exactly go well together. I wish I could have had some more time with him, you know, just the two of us . . . Then maybe he wouldn’t have ended things.”

  “Hey, do you want me to cause some sort of distraction so Devan and Caroline and the cameras leave you alone and you can talk?” I offered. “I could dress up in a Bigfoot costume, or punch Devan or something. My preference is the latter.”

  Sophie opened her mouth widely and popped the rest of her breakfast in. When she finished chewing she said, “No. Do
n’t punch anyone. You’ve done enough punching lately. It’s over now.”

  And just like that she was serene Sophie again, but my urge to sock it to Devan didn’t go away as quickly.

  “Not even a little slap? Or a pinch?” I asked. “You gotta give me something. A paper cut at least?”

  I was still trying to cheer Sophie up when my dad poked his head into the tent.

  “Girls, it would be a great idea to wear our team uniform today, to show solidarity,” he said.

  “We don’t have a team uniform, Dad. Do I even want to know what you have in mind?” I raised an eyebrow, maybe two, at him, and wished I had a third when he pointed to the shirt he was wearing.

  “Oh, hell no!” I said.

  Sophie gasped.

  My dad was wearing a bright orange T-shirt with Hebrew-style lettering on it that said “Shalom Sasquatch,” complete with a drawing of Bigfoot holding a menorah.

  “What the eff is that?” I choked out. Words couldn’t describe its ugliness. Gagging could possibly do the trick. Or maybe there was a Klingon word with a whole lot of vowels and glottal sounds that could vocalize just how hideous this shirt was.

  My dad beamed. “I got us all matching shirts for Hanukkah, but I thought we could wear them now.”

  Even Sophie, who was admittedly less of a fashionista than I was, looked like she was going to hurl fake blueberry filling all over the tent.

  “Dad, why are they bright orange?” she asked.

  “For safety reasons. So you can be seen by hunters and not get shot. Aren’t they hilarious? Wait until you see how cute your mom and Lyssa look in them,” he said with a boyish grin.

  Lyssa was wearing that monstrosity? She must have been desperate to get on my parents’ good side again. I struggled to put my boots on, not bothering to change out of my pajamas. I had to see my mom and Lyssa in the traffic-cone colored shirts. I stared at the shirt, speechless for a good fifteen seconds before I could form sarcastic words again. “We don’t have to worry about guys coming on to Lyssa anymore, so mazel tov on that.”

  Lyssa crossed her arms in front of her chest and opened her mouth to say something, but probably thinking the better of it, shut it.