“Then I will see you all bright and early at six-forty,” Mr. Myner said. “Don't forget your mittens.” He smirked. “It's mighty cold here in the morning.”
“Cole? Co-ooole?” a singsongy voice called from outside.
“Ew.” Dylan said under her breath.
Mr. Myner's expression softened. “Coming, Merri-Lee,” he sang back to her.
Dylan rolled over on her side and faced the wall.
“Uh, I have to go over tomorrow's shoot schedule. So no trouble or you will be up at five to catch the first bus home.” Mr. Myner gently hung Doose back on the nail above the fireplace, turned off the light, and left. No one said a word until the sound of his heavy footsteps was no longer audible.
“I am so going to puke,” Dylan said. “Gawd, could she be any more desperate? “Who hits on a geo teacher?”
“Desperate math teachers,” Massie said. “And your mother.”
Everyone giggled.
“Very funny,” Dylan whined. “I swear, as soon as I'm sixteen I'm divorcing her.”
While Dylan complained about her mother and Alicia and Olivia went back to whispering, Kristen silently pulled off her soccer clothes and handed them up to Massie, who discreetly passed them to Claire. It wasn't easy wiggling out of flannels and putting on sweats under a layer of heavy wool blankets, but Claire was determined. She pinned her blond hair to the back of her head and swept her short bangs to the left, because Massie insisted it drew attention to her “good side.”
Once Claire was dressed, she handed her pink-and-green plaid flannel nightshirt to Massie, who tossed them under her bed for Kristen. Phase one of the plan was complete. Now all Claire had to do was stay awake until the others fell asleep. Then she would sneak out.
Somewhere between counting owl hoots and the number of times Strawberry snored, Claire drifted off. She woke suddenly to the sound of footsteps creaking on the wood of the cabin floors. A tingle of prickly sweat welled up on the bottoms of her feet. Was it a bear? Was Mr. Myner checking up on them? Was Alicia coming to strangle her?
The cabin door opened slowly, then closed. It must be someone going to the bathroom, Claire decided. She would wait until they came back and then leave, just in case they ran into each other outside.
Sometime later—it was hard to tell exactly how much without her watch—Claire woke up again. She was mad at herself for drifting off but knew by now that whoever had been walking around was either gone or had gone back to sleep.
Claire slowly sat up in her bed. The springs squeaked a little when she moved, but no one stirred. Gently, she rose to her feet and waited to see if anyone had woken up.
Nothing.
She lifted her right leg and stretched it out as far as it . would go, so that it touched one of the sheepskin rugs and not the creaky wood. When she felt the fluff beneath her wool socks, Claire took another step. She slipped on her shoes and then continued to make her way across the cabin, lightly hopping from one rug to the next, the same way she used to leap across river rocks back in Florida.
The brisk night air was invigorating. It sharpened Claire's mind and cooled the thin layer of nervous sweat that had coated her skin.
On the count of three she vowed to jump off the side of the porch and make a run for the boys' cabin. On the count of three she would make things right with Cam. On the count of three she would risk suspension in the name of love.
One … two … three …
LAKE PLACID, NEW YORK FOREVER WILD CAMPSITE THE BOYS' BUNK
Monday, February 23rd 11:48 P.M.
The overwhelming boy smell was a shock to her system, even though Claire should have been used to it by now. After all, it was the same musty combination of sweat and stale breath that her brother Todd's room smelled like in the morning, only ten times thicker.
Claire covered her nose with the thick, porous, polyester sleeve of Kristen's soccer jersey and breathed in the leftover traces of her friend's signature scent, Clinique's Happy. It was all she could do to keep from dry heaving.
If it hadn't been for Cam's infamous brown leather jacket hanging over the thick wood post of his bed, Claire never would have spotted him. He was curled up in a little ball, completely covered in the heavy wool Indian blankets, except for the top of his thick black hair.
Claire felt a flutter in her stomach. She had never seen Cam asleep before. She had never even seen him lying down. It was thrilling and slightly disturbing at the same time. It felt wrong to watch him when he had no idea he was being watched, like she was stealing something valuable from him.
After a deep inhale and a slow, measure exhaled, Claire decided it was time to make her move across the sock-strewn floor. She pressed her palms against the door to absorb the inevitable click! sound the latch would make when she shut it behind her.
There was no turning back now.
A few of the boys were snoring. The off-key blasts reminded Claire of her brother and his friend Tiny Nathan tuning up for band practice. But in this case, instead of covering her ears, Claire waited anxiously for the sounds and used them to help her reach her target undetected.
Snore … step … snore … step … snore … step … snore …
Claire zigzagged through a minefield of muddy Timberlands, worn messenger bags, and torn-out pages from graphic novels on her way over to Cam's bed. There wasn't a fluffy white rug in the entire cabin. And instead of a cozy beanbag-and-pillow nook by the fireplace, there were big rocks covered in plaid blankets. It was more rugged than her bunk and a lot less cozy.
Her stomach lurched as she approached Cam's bed. Would he send her away? Laugh in her face? Wake his friends up so they could all see how desperate and pathetic she was?
Someone moved on the bunk above him. Claire froze and held her breath until he settled.
Once everyone was still, Claire leaned forward and nudged Cam out of his sleep. He rolled over and faced her, then opened his blue and green eyes.
“Dude!” He shot up in bed.
Dude?
“What are you doing here?”
Claire lowered herself and sat on the edge of his mattress by his pillow.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”
“Claire?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you were Brian Jeffreys.” Cam blinked a few times to clear his vision.
“Who?” Claire didn't really care what Cam was saying as long as he was talking to her.
“That girly-looking towel boy who's always begging the coach for a soccer tryout. You look exactly like him. What's with the outfit?”
Claire wanted to jump out of her skin with excitement. They were having a normal conversation. Maybe everything was fine. Maybe it had all been a bad dream.
“I need to talk to you.” She twisted the green Puma sweatband around her wrist. “And Mr. Myner said that if a girl is caught the boys' cabin, she'll get sent home, so—”
“Well, if Dingle catches you here, I'll get kicked off the soccer team, so you better go.” Cam flopped back down and folded his hands behind his head.
“Then let's sneak out back. I have to tell you something.”
Cam didn't move. He stared at the mattress above him and breathed deeply. He wasn't going to make this easy.
“Fine.” Claire stood up. “I'll leave.” She stood still for a second, giving Cam one last chance to beg her so stay. But he didn't.
Claire took a deep breath and sat back down. “Look.” She sighed. “I know you're mad because you saw me kiss Josh after the soccer game last week, and I totally get it.”
He didn't say a word.
Claire continued. “But I thought you dumped me. You ignored me at the Love Struck dance, you never returned my e-mails, and you were all over Alicia's slutty cousin Nina. So what was I supposed to do? I was upset.”
When the springs on the mattress above Cam squeaked again, Claire stopped talking. She used the quiet time to study Cam's face. His breathing remained deep and steady. If he felt any
compassion, he was doing a great job of hiding it.
“Cam, I had no idea Nina told you that lie about the Spanish soccer spell. How was I supposed to know she convinced you to avoid me so you'd win the finals?”
“She told me you knew about it.” Cam rolled over and faced the wall. His voice was distant and slightly muffled.
“Well, she was ahb-viously lying.” Claire caught herself sounding like Massie and decided to go with it. “Puh-lease, Nina was a total klepto. She got caught stealing from everyone in school. Are you seriously going to believe her over me?”
Cam was silent.
“Cam?” Claire filled with rage.
Silence.
“Cam?”
Silence.
The more he ignored her, the more her anger swelled. Eventually, the pressure building inside her could not be contained. And all of a sudden Claire burst.
“Cam!” She smacked him on the back, hitting his bony shoulder blade. The pain, along with her pent-up frustration, brought on a swell of tears.
His back started shaking and Claire instantly forgot the throbbing in her hand. “I'm so sorry—did I hurt you?” she whisper-cried.
Finally Cam turned around to face her. He was laughing hysterically. “Even Brian Jeffreys hits harder than you.”
The instant Claire saw his smile, her tears came harder. Cam had forgiven her.
His eyes sparkled with that playful flicker Claire loved, like he'd suddenly reclaimed his body and banished the cold zombie who had been living there for the last week.
Claire tried not to move. She wanted to bask in the warmth of his gaze for as long as possible, to make up for lost time. They stared at each other without blinking, until every cell in Claire's body felt electrified. She imagined her insides looked like strands of festive Christmas lights pulsing on and off, on and off, on and off, in perfect sync with her beating heart.
Even though Claire and Cam weren't speaking, then-eyes, bodies, and sweat glands seemed to be communicating on a frequency all their own. They didn't need words.
Claire tilted her head slightly to the right and held it there for a second. Her heartbeat quickened and the Christmas lights flashed faster.
Slowly, Claire inched forward.
The closer she got to Cam's full lips, the more she lowered her eyelids. Even though Claire couldn't see her target, she knew she was getting closer, because the sweet smell of Drakkar Noir and Ivory soap was growing stronger. She surrendered to the feeling, allowing herself to get sucked into his invisible force field. She was falling and leaning, leaning and falling, falling and—
Finally, there was contact. Instead of landing on Cam's perfect mouth, she was facedown in a pile of itchy blankets. She threw open her eyes and gasped. Her Christmas lights went dark.
Claire kept her head buried until it became impossible to breathe. What just happened? Had she imagined the whole conversation between their bodies? Was her theory about not needing words wrong? Had Cam not forgiven her after all?
“Sorry,” he said.
Claire lifted her head. She was dizzy and too embarrassed to face him. Instead, she stared at the abstract hieroglyphic pattern on his blanket until it blurred.
“What about Josh?” he asked.
“What about him?” Claire was beyond annoyed. What else did she have to do to prove she liked Cam? The soccer outfit, the pinned-back hair, sneaking over and trying to kiss him—all of this certainly should have been enough.
“He likes you now,” Cam whispered. “I can't just steal his girl.”
“Ew, I'm so not his girl,” Claire insisted. “I wish I could take that whole thing back. I always wanted you to be my first kiss, not him. I was just hurt and—”
“Well, I want you to be my first kiss.” Cam rested his hand on Claire's bare knee. It felt like a lightning bolt shot out of his palm and straight into her veins. But the time for their kiss had come and gone.
They needed words.
“If you want me to be your first kiss, why did you move out of the way?” Claire was shocked with herself for being so straightforward. But at this point, it was easier to ask the questions than to live with them.
“I want our first kiss to be more romantic,” Cam whispered and looked around the cabin. “Not something we do in front of a bunch of sleeping guys.”
“I hear you.”
Yay! Romantic Cam was back.
“Besides, you look like a dude and it's kinda freaking me out.”
Claire punched him in the arm and he punched her back. They both cracked up. Cam covered Claire's mouth so she wouldn't wake the guys. Before he moved it away she inhaled deeply, stealing one last whiff of Drakkar Noir for the road.
“I better go.” Suddenly Claire's body ached with exhaustion.
“Meet me after dinner tomorrow night at Powwow Log,” Cam whispered. “Oh, and please don't say that this is the end—I won't be happy until we've kissed.”
Claire gasped. Her arms and legs immediately flared up in goose bumps. “That's the last line in the poem I sent you.”
Cam pulled a folded piece of paper out from under his pillow. “I know.”
“You got it?”
He smiled and waved it in front if her face as if to say, “Of course I got it, silly. And I loved it.”
Claire felt like her world had just switched from black and white to Technicolor, like in The Wizard of Oz. She could hardly sit still.
“Just to make this the most romantic kiss in all of history, let's not speak all day tomorrow. It will be like we're a bride and groom on their wedding day,” Cam suggested.
Claire's teeth started chattering. “I love that.”
“Are you cold?”
“Not one bit.” She beamed.
“Okay.” Cam grinned. “See you at seven?”
“See you at seven.” Claire stood up and smiled down at him.
Then a familiar nonboy smell filled the air. It was a spicy combination of vanilla and chocolate and …
It was Alicia's Angel perfume.
Was she here? Did she hear what I said about kissing Josh? No way, right? But what if she did?
Claire turned and ran out of the cabin as quickly as she could. She didn't care about creaky floorboards, waking the boys, or getting busted by Mr. Dingle. The only thing on her mind was Alicia and how vengeful she would be if she knew Claire had kissed Josh.
When she got back to her cabin Claire dove under her blankets. She was too afraid to check the beds to see if Alicia was missing. She didn't want to know. Instead she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed to God that one of those Briarwood boys had farted Angel perfume in his sleep.
LAKE PLACID, NEW YORK FOREVER WILD CAMPSITE THE GIRLS' BUNK
Tuesday, February 24th 5:50 A.M.
“Up and at ’em, ladies.” Mr. Myner burst through the cabin door and flicked on the light. The girls squinted until their eyes adjusted to the blinding brightness. He unzipped his yellow I Know What You Did Last Summer raincoat, revealing a pair of formfitting one-piece long johns.
It was still dark outside. And the feeling of being up before the rest of the world reminded Massie of the vacations she took with her parents to St. Barts. It was always dark when her father woke her up and urged her to “get a move on” so they wouldn't miss their early flight. No matter how much Massie had been looking forward to hitting the beach, at that exact moment, she would have forfeited her vacation just to spend a few more minutes under her warm covers with Bean.
Now that Mr. Myner was tromping around the cabin, tearing the blankets off the girls and insisting they get up, Massie had that same feeling, only worse. Because he wasn't whisking them away to a tropical island so they could sip fruit smoothies by the pool and compare iPod playlists. He was forcing them to build an igloo for him in the middle of the frozen woods before sunrise. Massie made a mental note to meet with Alicia's father about a potential lawsuit.
“Everyone on your feet.” Mr. Myner clapped his hands.
C
laire pushed herself off the bottom bunk and rubbed her eyes. Massie didn't know whether to laugh or scream. She was still dressed in Kristen's soccer clothes.
“Claire,” Massie fake coughed. “Claire.”
Claire's pale eyebrows crinkled when she looked at Massie.
Massie pointed her chin toward Claire's soccer shorts. Claire still seemed confused.
“Boy clothes,” Massie coughed.
Claire's expression changed immediately, like someone had just thrown a bucket of cold water on her face. She quickly tugged a blanket off her bed and wrapped it around her like a pashmina. Massie sighed and turned back to Mr. Myner.
“Do you hear that sound?” He cupped his ear with his hand and tilted his head to the side, like he was listening to a rare birdcall.
Massie couldn't hear a thing. The rain on the wood roof blocked out all other noise. Besides, her eardrums were still asleep.
“Kind of,” Strawberry lied. The pile of hair on top of her head was leaning to the left. She looked like a pink Hershey's Kiss.
“It's the sound of you getting lucky,” Mr. Myner said. “It's raining, so you are off the hook. Everyone back to bed. I'll be back after my sunrise hike to wake you.” He turned off the light and, with a swish of his raincoat, disappeared into the darkness.
“My boobs have more point than that,” Dylan moaned as she covered her head with a pillow.
Everyone cracked up. Seconds later, the cabin was silent. All of the girls had fallen back asleep except Massie. She was dying to know what had happened with Claire and Cam. And, more important, had Derrington been awake? Had he said anything about her? Had any of the other boys said anything about her?
Massie flipped her pillow to the cold side and lay back down. How was she was going to face another day, knowing that some of the biggest losers in the school thought she was a loser? The natural order of the universe had gone awry. And Massie couldn't rest until it was restored.
She quietly lifted the covers off her and slipped into her lavender angora slippers. Massie tiptoed across the floor, trying her hardest not to wake the MUCK girls. Not without a winning plan. Once she got to the fireplace, she climbed over the beanbags to the mantel. She slowly lifted Doose off his nail and did her best to lower him onto the ground without stabbing herself in the eye with his antlers. She almost had him safely on the ground when a pair of underwear fell out of the hollow part behind his snout and landed on Massie's chest.
The Pretty Committee Strikes Back Page 14
