by J. K. Rock
For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Thank you, God. She stared out at the water while gentle waves sloshed along the sides of a few canoes pulled up on shore.
“You remind me of someone, Alex. A girl who was like a sister to me the year my family lived in West Africa.” Her voice had lost the snotty edge. Maybe it was because she wasn’t thinking about me but about someone she actually liked. Either way, she stared at the mountains and twisted the tie from her sweatshirt around her finger. “My dad was doing missionary work and my mom and I stayed with a host family. This girl—Leta—she was a few years older than me, and I followed her everywhere.”
I stared at the moon. Listening to Yasmine was better than thinking about the girls’ school or what a giant failure I was in everyone’s eyes.
“People always smiled at Leta. She was fun and funny. Doing chores never bothered me when I was with her.”
Since when was I fun or funny? I couldn’t imagine why I reminded Yasmine of this girl. I was the bringer of trouble. The creator of drama.
Yasmine turned to look at me and hugged her knees tighter while a cool breeze stirred the leaves into a soft fluttering sound.
“Leta flirted with boys too much. At least, that’s what her mother said. I thought it seemed like she just had fun with everyone—boys or girls—but at her age, in her culture, I guess she wasn’t allowed to have too much fun.”
“You think I’m boy crazy.” I started to see why I reminded Yasmine of her friend, and it ticked me off.
“Alex, listen. I loved this girl like a sister. But she got caught alone with a boy and her father was furious. He called her a disgrace to the family and sent her out of the village. She was only fourteen.”
Harsh. Poor girl. I could so relate. And she’d obviously made a strong impression on Yasmine.
“I’m getting sent from my village, too.” The brochure in my pocket was proof, no matter what garbage my mom told me about camp being a trial. They’d already made up their minds like I’d thought. It was the reason why I’d wanted payback. For this to be the best summer ever…only it’d turned into a disaster.
“True. And there will be jackals and hyenas there, too, I’ll bet.”
I laughed so loud I had to cover it up with my hand.
“I bet,” I agreed, still snickering.
“But it could be an opportunity, too. People like to be around you, Alex. You’ll make friends no matter where you go.”
“Um? Get around camp much? Because in case you hadn’t heard, I’m this week’s equivalent of poison ivy.”
“But if you figure out how to fix the skit, your camp friends will help you pull it off. They were rowdy tonight because they were excited about doing it. It won’t be hard to get them back.”
I wasn’t so sure. Javier, for one, wouldn’t return. But what if I had given up too soon?
“What happened to Leta after she was sent away?”
“I don’t know.” Yasmine’s voice hit a rough note, and I realized I’d never seen her even a little rattled, let alone unsure of herself. “My father wrote to ask his contacts in the village about her two years ago, but when they wrote back, they answered every question except for that one. I hope she’s okay. Someday, I’m going back to make sure.”
“She sounds like a fighter.” I straightened, knowing I could be, too. “If she could make people laugh, she must have found friends.”
Yasmine’s smile was warm and maybe a little grateful.
“Are you going to open your present now?” She handed me the small package again.
“What could it be?” I shook it and started ripping the paper. “Toothpaste to get rid of my bad breath? Diapers because I act like a baby? A mask so the world doesn’t have to see my crooked nose and freckles?”
“Whoa.” She made a timeout symbol with her hands. “One issue at a time.”
“Drops for swimmer’s ear?” I held the white bottle up to the moonlight to see if I was reading the label correctly.
“Hmm.” Yasmine tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Guess somebody is telling you to get the wax out of your ears and listen up.”
I finally understood the answer that had been in my face all along. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’ve been giving me the presents.”
She snorted. “Why would I give you anything?”
But she didn’t fool me.
“This is your totally messed-up way of trying to help me.” I thought back to the gifts. “I’m supposed to grow up. See myself more clearly. And now…listen to other people. I suppose you mean like you?”
I poked her in the shoulder—sorta hard, but mostly just messing around. This girl wouldn’t have sat with me through my tears if she wasn’t trying to cheer me up. Amazingly, she somehow had.
“Hey, it never hurts to listen to your elders.” She still sounded prissy and stuck up, but I was pretty sure she just wanted to help.
“Well, if one of my elders ever says anything helpful, I’ll let you know.” I noticed she hadn’t admitted to being my Secret Camp Angel. But then again, she hadn’t denied it.
“What did you get for gifts this summer?”
Yasmine’s teeth flashed in the dark, and she held out a wrist with a charm bracelet. A tiny elephant, trunk up, dangled from it, along with an owl and a bear.
“Wow. Very nice. Any idea who got them for you?”
“Someone with good taste,” she laughed.
I got to my feet and held out my hand to help her up. I could make an effort.
She clasped my palm and stood, taking her time to put her flip-flops back on while I tried to squeeze the excess damp out of my shorts from sitting in the sand.
“All right, then. Here’s a good piece of wisdom just for you.” She grabbed my shoulders and spun me around so we faced the beach again. “The world would rather see the soft glow of a candle than the glare of a floodlight.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “Sounds like a Wholesome Home blog post.”
“What I mean is, you don’t always need to bring the full force of your Alex-ness to every situation.” She ducked under a branch as we made our way through the trees back toward the cabins in the dark. “We’re alike in that way, I think. We have strong personalities, and sometimes that rubs people the wrong way. But if we can be a little more subtle, maybe people will listen to us more.”
“You think? I keep hoping maybe if I just shout louder…”
Yasmine giggled. It kind of made my night, hearing that unguarded sound from someone who seemed light-years older than me in a lot of ways.
“Let me know how that works for you,” she said softly, but my brain was back on what she said about the play. About people being excited to take part in the skit.
I couldn’t fix things with Javier and I sure couldn’t do anything about my parents kicking me out to go to boarding school.
But maybe it wasn’t too late to salvage West Side Scary.
Javier
“Break!” I shouted the next morning before Bam-Bam disappeared around a trail bend up Black Balsam Knob Mountain.
My backpack thudded to the forest floor, sending brown leaves and pine needles scattering. I braced myself against a moss-covered log and waited for my unstoppable counselor to return. Damn. Did the dude ever get tired? I uncapped my water bottle and chugged, the lukewarm liquid doing nothing to cool me off.
We’d been at this “intervention hike” for two hours, and Bam-Bam had barely broken a sweat in the ninety-plus-degree heat. I, however, would have ripped off my sticky T-shirt miles ago if it wasn’t for the swarming mosquitoes. For a trip supposed to cure my anger issues, it was frustrating.
The large Marine loomed into view. The guy was huge—a musclehead. Except he was more than that. He’d been cool about sticking up for me after the Vijay fight and had basically saved my ass by talking Gollum into this overnight trip. Not that it’d do any good. Sure I’d play nice. Say ever
ything the guy wanted to hear. But I’d been at this “save the child” party for too long to learn anything. I knew what adults wanted to hear. But it wasn’t the truth.
However, if being here meant staying at camp and not letting my mom down, I was in. Even if it sucked. I slapped at another biting insect. Man, did it suck.
“Want some gorp?” A beefy hand thrust a bag of raisins, chocolate chips, nuts, and granola at me. My stomach rumbled, and suddenly I was starving. I could toss it all in my mouth and swallow in one gulp.
“Whoa. Slow down there, kiddo,” Bam-Bam cautioned as I stuffed my cheeks. “We’ve got another couple hours before we make camp.”
I choked on a peanut. Two more hours? This was starting to feel like hell. After all, I was hot, being tortured by wild creatures, and being punished for my sins. What happened to the bro-bonding time in front of a campfire where I heard about his war stories and how I needed to “straighten up, soldier”? That I was ready for, but this Survivor-meets-The-Challenge episode? It was all too real and not what I expected.
“Thought we were almost there,” I gasped when I got my breath back. “Isn’t this the end of Flat Laurel Creek Trail?”
Bam-Bam’s deep chuckle sounded in the dense woods, one of the waterfalls we’d passed trickling in the background. “Yep. But we’re joining up with the Art Loeb trail now.” He tossed back a handful of trail mix. “We’ve got a ways to go to the summit.” His worn lace-up boots lightly kicked mine. “You quitting? ’Cause you don’t look like the kind that gives up.”
My back straightened, and my shoulders squared. I was no quitter. I had worked all my life. While other kids played Little League and indoor soccer, I did every odd job a boy my age could do. And it’d never been enough. It hadn’t kept Mom out of jail this last time. My hands tightened into fists automatically at the thought. Why hadn’t she told me how bad our bills had gotten? I would have done something. Dropped out of school and taken a third job…
“You okay?” Bam-Bam’s knees creaked as he squatted beside me. His hooded eyes bored into mine until I looked away and nodded.
“I’m no quitter,” I muttered, then stood.
“Good man,” grunted Bam-Bam. He shouldered his pack, handed me mine, and took off without a backward glance. Like he trusted me. Knew I could keep up with him. Wouldn’t let him down. And as corny as it was, I felt something lighten inside me that I’d held heavy and tight for a long, long time.
……………….
Hours later, I dropped my pack and wove through the tall grass and rocks with Bam-Bam to the mountain’s bald precipice. The wind whistled soft and steady like Helena’s tea kettle before she snatched it off the range. The view looked like it could have been straight out of a movie—one of those fake sets that are rolled away once the director yells “cut.”
As far as I could see, the world stretched below me. My fingers dug in my palms when I thought of how small it was. From six thousand feet, I could admire it. I was safe here. And it couldn’t touch me.
“Freaking amazing, huh?” boomed Bam-Bam.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding as thin as the air. It was awesome. Trees rippled and waved below like an ocean of foliage. Shadows made puppets of themselves on the swaying green when clouds swam in front of the sun. Birds called and darted amongst living skyscrapers, their wings moving too fast to see. Everything was bursting, swelling with life. Yet there was a peace about it, too. A rightness. And suddenly I didn’t want to hate this world. I wanted to be a part of what I watched, not at war with it.
“That mountain’s called Tennent.” Bam-Bam pointed at a large peak to our left. “Next time we come out, we’ll camp there. It’s got great views of Ivestor Gap.”
I blinked away the sting in my eyes and pulled on my sunglasses. The glare off the surrounding white rock must be getting to me. Why did Bam-Bam mention a next time? It’s not like he didn’t have a million other things he’d rather do than hang out with me. But there was something in his wide grin, the gleam in his eyes that made me feel like he was having a good time. Like he wanted to be here. I pulled out the creased picture of my mom and dad that I kept in my pocket. If he hadn’t lost his visa, would he be here with me?
I don’t know why I thought about stuff like that since it always reminded me how much life sucked. I turned my back on the world I’d never get to see with my father, the world I’d hardly got to see with my mother. Life didn’t give a crap about me, so why should I care? A vision of Alex’s green eyes came to mind, but I pushed it aside. I’d had too many disappointments to set myself up for one more.
“You hungry?” Bam-Bam knelt on a patch of tan grass, pulling tons of stuff from his backpack.
“Sure. Want me to cook?” I took the skillet he handed me and then grabbed the economy-sized can of beans from my bag. I’d brought some chili peppers from my garden, along with cilantro, green onions, and tomatoes. We might be roughing it, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t eat well.
“Looks like you came prepared.” Bam-Bam tossed me his pocket knife.
“An Eagle Scout is always prepared.” I crossed my fingers over my heart and couldn’t keep a straight face at Bam-Bam’s smirk. Yeah, I wasn’t exactly a scout. Just appreciative of good food. The garden at camp had been great for my cooking.
“All right then.” He roughed up my hair, then gave me a small shove toward a lone tree line. “Let’s get some wood and start the fire.”
I broke off a branch, then lowered it at Bam-Bam’s frown.
“We need old wood,” he said. “The drier and scruffier it looks, the better. Got it?”
I nodded and threw down the limb. After twenty minutes of searching, we barely had a bundle of twigs. Then I spotted it.
“Look!” A leftover campfire lay half-hidden behind a rock. Who’d ever camped here must have left early because most of the logs were in pretty good shape.
I staggered under his shoulder clap. “Way to go, champ. With that, the wood I brought, and this kindling, we should have ourselves a good old-fashioned campfire. I may even sing.”
“Please don’t,” I said, my mouth moving faster than my brain. But Bam-Bam only laughed.
“You haven’t heard me yodel yet, kiddo. And I only do it on special occasions.”
“Like before they take you to the loony bin?” I was more comfortable joking around now. Bam-Bam wasn’t uptight like a lot of adults.
“Maybe.” He slid me a sideways look so serious my mouth dropped open.
“I, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of—you know—like that post-war stuff and all, and—”
Bam-Bam’s wide smile flashed, and he punched my arm. “Hah! Got ya, kid.”
I punched him back. “You son of a—” And before I knew it, we were pretend-sparring on the empty mountaintop, our kicking, hitting, and shoving in plain view of God and anyone else who cared to watch.
At first it was just fun, but every time Bam-Bam landed one, then danced out of reach, my anger started to rise. The fight reminded me of my life, blows coming at me when I least expected them. And me—powerless me—unable to stop it. It didn’t matter that Bam-Bam was barely tapping me.
Eventually my temper boiled over until I lashed out hard. I didn’t realize his lip was bleeding until he pulled out a handkerchief. I’d split it. Damn. I sprinted away and got as far as the trailhead before Bam-Bam tackled me.
I turned, swung blindly and screamed, my fury at myself a tangible thing. I hated being out of control. Hated being me. Bam-Bam pinned my arms at my side and knelt beside me, his face calm despite the red dripping down his chin.
“You got a nice uppercut there.”
I stopped thrashing and stared. What? No recriminations, no lectures, no “Proceed directly to a foster group home; do not pass Go…do not see Alex”? Impossible. My heart thudded louder than the rattling cicadas.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” I blurted, staring up into his scarred, craggy face.
“That�
��s what they say every time they take me to the loony bin.” His cut lip quirked, and guilt cut me even harder. “What do they say when you get kicked out of foster homes?”
I gaped at Bam-Bam. So he knew about that. Of course he did. “That I’m out of control. Won’t listen to authority. Have anger issues. Potential for future incarceration,” I quoted from a report I’d once seen in Helena’s office, my voice thick. Unsteady. No matter how calm or cool I usually tried to act, I always knew the truth about myself. It was all there in black and white.
“Any of that bullshit true?” Bam-Bam looked me in the eyes as if he could see through my dark sunglasses, past my apathetic expression, to what was hidden behind it all.
And he’d called the reports bullshit. I sat up and wrapped an arm around my bent knees. Protecting myself. Always on guard. Bam-Bam was throwing me off my game. Did he actually want the truth?
“No. Yes. Sometimes.”
Bam-Bam plucked a long strand of grass and put it between his teeth. He stretched out on the ground beside me, one ankle resting on his other knee. “Fair enough. Honesty isn’t one of your problems.” He cleared his throat, then eyed me again. “Loyalty either. Helena says you’ve been running away from foster homes to visit your mother.”
The way he said it. Straight out. No judgment. It made me want to share something I’d never told anyone before. Not even Helena. “My smile’s the only thing that keeps her going.”
His sigh mingled with the wind. “Keeping your mom happy isn’t your job.”
My hands balled in my lap. “The hell it’s not.”
“It’s her job, Javier. Hers.”
There it was again. That steady, matter-of-fact tone that made my world tilt.
“Yeah, well. I ruined Mom’s life. If I hadn’t been born, she’d have gotten a college degree and would probably be working in a nice office. Instead she’s wearing orange and behind bars.” It was my fault. Mine.
Bam-Bam tossed aside the grass and rolled over to lean on an elbow. “Did you ask to be born?” He stared up at me until I shrugged.
