The Season of You & Me

by Robin Constantine

  “You’re staying in tonight?”

  I nodded. He smiled.

  “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be in.”

  SIXTEEN

  BRYAN

  “YOU REALLY WANT ME TO BELIEVE YOU BLEW US off on Saturday night because you were watching shark shows with Hunter?” I said.

  “It’s Shark Week, did you know that? It’s like a national holiday in Hunter’s world. And I told you, he helped me out at the inn, I had to do something for him.” Cass splashed me. I paddled away, trying not to smile.

  “You missed a great time,” I lied. It hadn’t been awful, but it wasn’t the best Saturday night in history either. It was just a night with Wade and Tori and some of the other guys hanging out. Something I hadn’t done in a while, and it felt good being around actual people instead of on a raid on Realm Wars. What I’d really been looking forward to was seeing Cass outside of camp again. I wanted to know her. And sometimes I even had the feeling she wanted to know me better too.

  She was swimming with me, and that meant something, didn’t it? There was a reason she kept getting up early, burning through towel duty, and hanging out with me. Sometimes I even believed it—that she could like me that way—but I didn’t know how to pursue anything more. One moment I was sure we were friends, and completely content with it, then the next she would pout, or smile, or hell, breathe next to me and I ached for more. I was starting to want it too much, especially if she didn’t, and I’d settle for being around her, even if it meant we were just friends.

  I grabbed the pool noodles and set myself up to float. Cass still splashed in the other lane, then without warning popped up next to me, spitting water in the air as she broke the surface. I laughed.

  “I think I just heard a piano version of ‘Pompeii’ underwater—please tell me I’m not crazy,” she said, blinking the water out of her eyes.

  “You probably did; that’s Owen’s version of being cutting-edge.”

  “Hey, is there room for two?” she asked, grabbing one end of the noodle.

  She needed to stop saying things like that to me.

  “You can try,” I said.

  She put her head back next to mine, but let her legs drift up in the water instead of throwing them over the other noodle. We floated like that for a moment, but it was far from my usual blissed-out solo cooldown. Not that I minded—we were so close, even in the water I could feel the heat coming off her skin.

  “Did you know otters hold hands?”

  “You sound like H-bomb now,” I said.

  She laughed. “It’s true. Didn’t you ever see that video where they’re floating and then all of a sudden the one takes the other’s hand, like this?”

  Cass entwined her fingers through mine. I didn’t resist. She pulled us closer together. She was only touching my hand, our forearms kissing, but it felt incredible. A #wheelchairperk of my permanent nerve rewiring. New turn-on zones. My heart pounded so much I was sure it would cause the water to ripple.

  “They do that so they don’t drift apart when they’re sleeping, isn’t that the cutest thing?”

  Cassidy. Was. Holding. My. Hand.

  “Otters!” Jena pointed at us and smiled.

  “Yes, like the video; you’ve seen it, right?” she asked. Jena nodded.

  We floated like that for a few minutes, until she finally let go and treaded water next to me.

  “By the way, I requested to be in your group for field day,” she said.

  “Cool. Hunter will be happy,” I said.

  “Will you be happy?”

  “You picked the best group to be with,” I said.

  “I could have helped Monty with the dance party.”

  “Hmm . . . tough choice, I guess.”

  “So, what do we do at field day that’s so different from any other day?”

  “Much more organized fun. At the beach. That’s about it.”

  “Oh, is that . . . will you . . . how will you get to the beach?”

  “Think you could give me a piggyback ride?” I said, as deadpan as I could possibly manage. She stood up in the water, brow crinkled, curvy mouth bunched up. I sat there enjoying her face until I couldn’t stand it any longer. “No worries, I got it covered.”

  She splashed me.

  Field day was never something I had looked forward to in school. For me, organized sports meant searching for obstacles to grind with my skateboard or a day shredding in the surf. That I could get behind, but dividing into teams, playing games with rules and prizes—not so much.

  Camp Manatee field day was different though. It was more about spending the day on the beach, and we had a rotation for activities, so only one group would be at one station at a time. We had a couple of planned games, a sand-castle challenge, an organized ocean swim, and the big finale before we went back to the rec center for quiet time was going to be a dance party led by Monty. How Nick was going to pull that off in a-thousand-degree heat I wasn’t sure, but it would be fun to watch.

  The one part I was dreading was having to use the all-terrain wheelchair, because it required someone to push me around. Maybe I was overthinking it—I’d only been to the beach with my family a handful of times since my mishap. Bottom line: it took effort, planning, special wheels to deal with the sand, and the one thing I’d liked about going to the beach before was that it was a no-brainer. Sometimes it sucked to be invisible, to have people talk over you or around you or about you, like I was deaf instead of para, but the opposite sucked even harder. It was impossible to blend. I guess if I were a kid and saw some dude being pushed around in a big-wheeled chair I’d be interested too, it’s just—I hated being the center of attention for it.

  The kids were over-the-top excited for the beach, moving like little pinballs knocking into each other down the hallway. The beach was only a block away, so we were heading over in our individual groups. Both Cass and Tori were with us. The kids held on to a long rope, so no one would get separated. Cassidy led everyone across the street.

  “So where is this four-wheelin’ wheelchair?” Wade asked.

  “It’s supposed to be waiting at check-in—you sure you’re okay pushing me around?” I asked.

  “Ugh, dude, what a drag,” Wade said.

  “Can I push you?” H-bomb asked.

  I laughed. “You’re here to have fun, buddy, not worry about me.”

  The sun was strong, and we’d been told to take water and sunscreen breaks every forty-five minutes. Water sooner if necessary. We sprayed sunscreen on the kids before heading out to the sand. When I’d gone as far as I could on the wooden walkway, I stopped and waited. There was no other chair in sight. Wade looked from side to side. The kids sort of pooled around me. Sweaty, sticky, and whining—it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

  “Mr. B.’s supposed to be here, right?” Wade asked.

  “Yep.” More campers arrived, stopping out of instinct at the traffic jam we were causing. I waved for them to go around us. Owen came rushing over, red-faced and slightly out of breath. There was a section of the beach marked off by several large Camp Manatee banners. No chair in sight.

  “Wait, guys, you need wristbands,” he said. He fumbled around with his clipboard and gave Wade a handful of purple strips. He gave the counselors behind us some too.

  “Hey, Mr. B., do we have the chair for Bryan?” Wade motioned with his head to me.

  “Yes, sorry,” he said, eyeing the growing line behind us. Our kids had wrapped themselves up in the rope they’d been holding and started to spin in a giggly circle.

  “It’s over there next to the shade tent. Could you get it, Wade? I meant to have it over here. Time got away from me. Sorry, Bry.”

  “It’s cool,” I said. Wade handed me the wristbands and walked off to get the chair. I whistled for the kids to cut it out.

  “Come here, guys, you need wristbands.” They bombarded me with questions.

  I hate things around my wrist.

  Why purple?

  Do we
have to wear it all day?

  I whistled again.

  “Dudes, stop. Do you want to make sand castles? Play giants, wizards, and elves? Then calm down so I can put these wristbands on you—these are your tickets to as much fun as you can handle,” I said, motioning for Hunter to be the first. He beamed and held out his wrist while I wrapped it around him and peeled off the adhesive to secure it. “Next.”

  By the time Wade got back with the beach-access chair, the kids were all wristbanded up and raring to hit the sand.

  “Oh, cooooool,” they crooned as Wade stopped the chair in front of me. The rec center had zero budget, so they didn’t have one of those tricked-out motorized beach chairs. They had your basic beach-access chair, which, to be honest, was goofy as hell to look at, with fat wheels that still sank in the sand. The worst part was I couldn’t use it on my own. I needed someone to push me around. Wade shooed the kids away from the chair and studied my face.

  “C’mon,” he said, crouched down. “I’ll give you a lift over.”

  I held on to his shoulders and he bent lower to grab my legs. In one motion he stood and hoisted me up a little farther onto his back. I kept my eyes forward, not wanting to see anyone’s reaction. It was a short walk to the chair. He crouched down again and helped me position myself. The kids actually fought over who could help him push me. Colby handed me my backpack and we moved along to our first activity. Games.

  I supervised as they played giants, wizards and elves, but got involved during volleyball, where I didn’t need to move from one side of the makeshift court to the other. Cass was on the opposite team and we volleyed a few times.

  After a water and sunscreen break, we took our turn at the sand-castle station. I was self-appointed general contractor, with Colby as my right-hand little dude.

  “We need more water; the sand needs to stick together better than this,” I said, directing them how to build a base. Cass took Hunter and some of the other kids to get more water and to collect shells to decorate. When they got back, she knelt next to me, and stacked sand for a tower.

  “You’re taking this very seriously,” she joked.

  “Sand castles are serious business,” I said. “It’s all about the sand-to-water ratio. Too little water, it’ll all fall apart before you even start. Too much and you’ll end up getting a shapeless mound. Consistency is key. My dad used to build epic sand castles when we were little, so I guess I’m geeking out.”

  “It’s nice.”

  “It’s nothing right now; we don’t have much time so we have to keep it simple, a few towers maybe.”

  “No, it’s nice to see you so . . . relaxed. You smile differently when your guard is down.”

  She noticed my smile?

  “It’s good being out of the rec center, I guess.”

  “Yeah, something different, right?” she said, stacking another handful of sand onto the pile that was now ready to be shaped into something. “I’ll go get some more shells. Let’s trick this thing out.”

  I laughed. “Cool.”

  She grabbed a pail and asked for volunteers. Five hands shot up.

  “C’mon, guys. Hey, Bry, want to sit together for lunch?”

  Like she really had to ask.

  After lunch and a bathroom break, it was swim time for our guys.

  “Do you want to be by the water?” Wade asked.

  Did I want to be by the water? I wanted to be in the water, on the water, one with the water. Deep dark blue, with the sun glinting off the waves . . . I could only imagine how good it would feel, that first shocking plunge, taking the edge off. There were too many variables though. I had no control.

  “Nah, I’ll stick with the shade, I’m getting a little overheated anyway.” Another #wheelchairperk—anytime I mentioned a physical issue, people never questioned it.

  “Okay.”

  Wade pushed me over to the tent.

  Cass was by the water’s edge, Hunter and Colby next to her. Colby kept running away from the surf, while Hunter tried to grab his hand and drag him into the water. At one point Cass took both of their hands to go a little farther into the surf, the waves lapping at their ankles. Lucky kids.

  I closed my eyes and imagined I was the one holding Cass’s hand, standing next to her, racing out to the waves, pulling her into the water. We could hold hands and float like . . . what was that . . . otters.

  “Hey, no sleeping on the job.”

  I opened my eyes. Cass was there, running a towel up and down her legs. She fanned it out when she was done and sat on it.

  “Just chilling for a moment; these little dudes can wear you out,” I said.

  She leaned on her hands and dropped her head back, stretching her neck. No blue bikini today, but Cass could probably wear a rain tarp and still look amazing.

  “So this is what all the fuss is about?” she said.

  “The fuss about what?”

  “The sun, the sea, the sand—you know, the reason people flock here to roast in the rays and eat fudge.”

  “Yeah, I guess it doesn’t suck,” I said.

  “You sure you don’t want to go by the water? I don’t mind pushing you down there,” she said.

  “I’m cool here, wanted to get out of the sun anyway.”

  Wade was with Colby and Hunter now. He was kneeling in front of Colby and pointing toward the water. He splashed him with some of the foam from a wave.

  “So how was Colby by the water? He gets scared in the pool.”

  “Yeah, he was a little freaked. Hunter’s funny though, trying to get him to go in. I swear, that kid wants to find a shark and ride it. I keep telling him one bite and he’s a goner, but I think he’s convinced he’s the shark whisperer or something.”

  “You know, if anyone could be, I’d put my money on H-bomb.”

  “Ha, I think you’re right.”

  “There you are,” Tori said, shielding her eyes from the sun and looking at Cass. “We have to hand out the ice cream cups at this dance party. I can’t wait until quiet time, I’m wilting.”

  “You could hang out in the water with Wade,” Cassidy said.

  Tori stepped under the canopy. “Or I could just stay in the shade. We need to be stationed here, otherwise we’ll be handing out cups of ice-cream soup. I’m going to suggest that to Mr. B.”

  Wade came up behind Tori and shook out his hair, sending droplets of water onto her. She arched her back to get away from him.

  “Wade, I managed to stay dry all day. Thanks.”

  “One word and my minions can do the same,” Wade said, holding his hands out as if the kids were on display.

  “You’re evil,” Tori said.

  Wade looked around the tent. “Where’s Hunter and Colby? I told them to meet us here.”

  “Last I saw them they were by the water with you,” I said.

  The four of us looked between each other.

  Cass stood up. “They have to be around. I’ll go check by the water.”

  “I’ll look by the games,” Tori said.

  Wade turned to the kids. “Stay. Here. With Bryan, got that? I’m going to check out that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction. I played a game of I Spy with the kids to keep them occupied. Ten minutes later, Cass, Tori, and Wade returned empty-handed. We looked at each other, harsh realization dawning on all of us.

  Colby and Hunter were gone.

  We’d have to get Owen involved now.

  “I’ll go tell him,” Wade said, trotting over to him.

  Cassidy’s face paled and she crossed her arms.

  I sat there, feeling completely useless. This was an emergency. The exact thing that parents had been worried about, and what good was I? Immobilized. Sitting there, as useful as a freaking sand dollar.

  Owen came over to us. The kids were thankfully oblivious, sitting on the blanket and eating potato chips Tori had brought over for them. He drew the four of us into a huddle.

  “When was the last time you saw them?”

&n
bsp; Wade explained what had happened again, and Owen jumped to action, heading over to the lifeguard stand. Soon anyone who could help was mobilized into action. Cass stood next to me, practically catatonic, and watched as they formed a human chain and walked into the water.

  “Why are they doing that?”

  “So they can cover more ground in case . . .” God, I didn’t even want to say it.

  “Do you think Hunter and Colby are in there?” Cass’s eyes went wide.

  “Cass, I know it looks bad, but they’re just doing it as a precaution. I doubt Colby would have even gone in, he’s scared of the water.”

  “But Hunter was getting to him, I saw that. He wanted to go . . . oh, fuck, Bryan,” she said, putting a hand across her mouth as she watched the lifeguards launch the rowboat into the water.

  I didn’t know what to say, I was freaked too. We’d been watching Hunter and Colby. One turn of the head and two kids had vanished. And all I could do was watch as the volunteers dredged the water—they were chest-deep now. I didn’t think they’d find Hunter and Colby there, but . . . what if they did? There were always stories of kids getting swept out in some freak accident. There was no rip current though. Maybe I couldn’t join in the search, but at least I could try to keep Cassidy from having a meltdown. Think, Bryan.

  “Well, as much as Hunter digs sharks, Colby hates them. He was afraid there were sharks in the pool.”

  “Yeah, but—” She stopped, blinked a few times, features sharpening. “Sharks, omigod, that’s it. I think . . . I gotta go, tell them I’m looking in the arcade.” She took off running, sand kicking up behind her.

  The kids were getting restless.

  “Hey,” Tori said, clapping her hands. “Who wants to play duck, duck, goose?”

  No one really did, but she corralled them under the tent and managed to get them to play a few rounds. Wade came back up to the tent, looking grim, but suddenly his face broke into a wide grin. I turned my head to see what he was looking at.

  Cass was in between Hunter and Colby, holding on to their hands for dear life.

  “Little dudes, you are in some deep crap,” he said, trotting over to them.