A Marigold counselor was with them, her arms flailing. She grabbed Bella by the shoulders, but Bella kept her head down and her eyes fixed to the ground.
A figure emerged then, breaking out of the group, churning uphill at a pace that was fast but strained, forward but choppy.
I recognized him right away.
Earl was racing with something clutched to his chest.
And then it all came into focus, the way it does, first slowly, and then in an instant. Her legs swinging like broken pendulums, her head floppy as a balloon on a stick, her hair dripping a trail of wet behind her like ribbon unraveling.
Jordana.
Earl cradled her and ran toward clinic. His face was a mix of panic and effort, his shirt damp with lake water.
I ran toward him.
“What happened?” I didn’t recognize the shrill in my voice.
“Get Brenda,” he ordered without looking at me. “In the dining hall. Get her car.” Earl huffed out the words between short breaths. He switched directions then and turned from clinic toward the parking lot.
“Go,” he shouted at me.
I sprinted to the dining hall and burst inside, banging my shoulder against the doorframe as I pushed my way in. Brenda looked up, a huge tray in her arms loaded with cookies for the social.
“Brenda!” I gasped.
She lowered the tray onto a table, a curtain of calm descending over her face even though I could see her hands tightening their grip on the metal tray handles, her knuckles pink.
“Earl needs you . . . drive . . . the hospital . . . Jordana . . .”
A ripple of worry crossed her face and then disappeared fast. She released the tray, clutched the walkie-talkie against her waist, and ran out the door so fast I felt a breeze hit me after she passed.
A kitchen staffer appeared from the back to ask what was going on, but I didn’t stop to explain. I followed Brenda out the door and ran as fast as I could, scanning the ground in the dark to avoid tripping on the knobby roots and lumpy earth that made up the growing distance between Brenda and me.
When I reached the parking lot, Brenda was already in the driver’s seat, the engine revving, and Earl was sliding Jordana into the back seat.
He pulled the door closed and I watched him prop Jordana up against the headrest and buckle her into her seat belt. Then he collapsed beside her, his skin ashen under a sheen of sweat. Through the window I saw Jordana’s eyes flutter open and Earl’s slowly close. The car squealed out of the lot, kicking up gravel in its wake. I watched the car disappear down the road while music from the rec hall pulsed through the night, loud and heavy as my own pounding heart.
The rumors started immediately:
The boys boated the girls to the middle of the lake to smoke and then left them stranded there.
They all got drunk and stole Earl’s cart and tried to drive it across the water to Forest Lake.
They were playing Truth or Dare, and one of the Asters dared Jordana to swan-dive off the dock near the shallow end and she did it. Or one of the Forest Lake boys dared her and she did it. Or no one dared her—she just stood up and announced, “Watch this,” and did it herself.
But they were just rumors that grew and changed with each telling.
We all returned to our cabins that night with no idea of what had really happened and no idea if Jordana was going to be okay.
It was the longest night in the history of Meadow Wood.
Day 48—Thursday
“She’s back,” Chieko announced, running into Yarrow to catch us between second and third period. “She’s in clinic.”
Chieko grabbed a stack of celebrity magazines from the top shelf of Jordana’s cubby before clicking the cubby door shut.
The second we stepped into her room at clinic, Jordana’s eyes welled up and she started to cry. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out, just silence to go with the tears streaming down her face. She had a bandage on the side of her head and she looked tired, but other than that, she just looked like Jordana.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Jaida C soothed her, snuggling onto the bed beside her and stroking Jordana’s long hair.
“We brought you supplies,” Chieko announced, holding the stack of magazines out in front of her.
At that exact moment, a nurse marched in and swooped the entire pile out of Chieko’s hands. “No reading allowed. She has a concussion. All she’s allowed to do is rest.”
“No reading?” Chieko looked horrified.
“No TV, no writing, and certainly no reading,” the nurse recited.
“Remind me to never get a concussion,” Chieko muttered.
“And Jordana, honey, I just got off the phone with your parents,” the nurse continued. “They’ve decided to have you come home on the bus on the last day, as usual.”
Jordana’s eyes crinkled like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“They said since camp is almost over, you might as well stay the last few days and leave with everyone else.” I noticed that the nurse avoided eye contact with Jordana as she said this, and I couldn’t blame her. Carly’s parents couldn’t get to her fast enough after her accident, but Jordana’s parents didn’t seem all that concerned.
The nurse refilled a water glass on the side table and flashed a light into Jordana’s eyes, then scribbled something down on a chart. She turned to us to say, “Just a short visit now, girls. You can come back again later.” Then she left.
“You scared us half to death!” Jaida A yelled at Jordana.
“You don’t even want to know the stories people are making up,” Jaida C said.
“What happened?” Chieko asked. “I remember seeing you by the speakers with Bella’s group. You were dancing.”
“When did you leave the rec hall?” I asked.
Jordana had stopped crying but was holding Jaida C’s hand tightly in her lap. “During the slow song. They dim the lights so it’s easy to slip out.”
And then she told us everything.
The real story wasn’t very exciting. It was just a bunch of dumb decisions in a row that ended up with Jordana hurt and everyone else in trouble.
There was alcohol. Gabbi and Bella convinced a kitchen staffer to slip them some beer, and they hid it by the waterfront right before the social. Eight of them snuck out of the dance—four girls and four boys—and chugged the beers fast, then decided to go swimming.
“Were you drunk?” Jaida C asked. Her tone was a mix of motherly scolding and genuine curiosity.
“No. I mean, maybe.” Jordana tried to prop herself up in bed but winced, then sank back down against the pillows. “I don’t know. I definitely felt different, but I thought I was fine.”
Chieko nodded in a been there, done that kind of way.
“Then these two jerky guys”—Jordana sounded angry as she continued—“they ran off and stole Earl’s cart. They drove it right into the water, and I don’t know, I guess we all thought it was funny at the time but—” she started to cry.
I saw the Jaidas exchange confused looks. Why was Earl’s golf cart the upsetting part of the story?
“You got hit by the cart!” Chieko guessed.
Jordana shook her head.
I realized I saw the cart last night, flipped on its side by the dock, half under water. Those boys were jerks. Or else they were normal boys and the beer had turned them into jerks.
“So what then?” Jaida A asked. “How’d you get hurt?”
“I slipped,” she said, wiping her tears away. “I hit my head on the dock and fell in the water, and I don’t know, they pulled me out. I was unconscious.”
“Who pulled you out?” Jaida C asked.
“The other two boys. The two not-jerks.” Then she added, “So I’m told.”
“And then Simone went to get help, right? I saw her by the lake—it looked like she had just run a sprint and was trying to catch her breath.” I pieced together the rest of the story out loud. “So that means she got Ea
rl and when he went to grab his keys, they weren’t there because they were still in the ignition—that’s how they stole his cart. So he ran to the dock and carried you all the way back to the parking lot. He could barely talk, he was running so hard.”
And then Jordana burst into hard, body-shaking tears. As she cried, she pulled her knees up to her chest like she was trying to get smaller, like she was trying to disappear completely.
“Jordana, what is it?” Jaida C asked, fear on her face.
“Earl,” was all she got out between heaves.
A sudden dizziness moved through me and my vision blurred. I’d noticed that Brenda wasn’t at flag that morning—Holly had run it in her place—and that Earl wasn’t in the dining hall at breakfast. I’d figured they were both busy dealing with the mess from last night, stuck on the phone with the parents of Aster girls and with the director of Forest Lake.
Jordana said each word carefully then. “I woke up in the car on the way to the hospital. He was next to me. His eyes were closed and he . . . didn’t look right. Brenda’s voice was all shaky. She was telling Earl how brave he was and how he was a hero for saving me. She told him how great he was taking care of everything at camp.” Jordana took a deep breath and continued as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. “And then she started talking about their marriage and how he made everything beautiful, like the garden behind their cabin. How it would live forever.”
My legs went numb and I started to sway on my feet. “Where’s Earl?”
Jordana looked me in the eyes. “When we got to the hospital, she ran in for help and they took Earl first because he”—her voice cracked as she swallowed back another sob—“his heart stopped. He had a heart attack.”
It happened quickly then. A wave of heat crept up my body and squeezed me until I couldn’t feel my limbs and I couldn’t feel my feet against the floor and I couldn’t see. A bruised green color flashed behind my eyelids and my entire head tingled. I felt myself sink, my knees buckle and drop, and then everything went dark as the lake at night.
“You just couldn’t let Jordana have all the attention, could you?” Chieko was standing over me, hands on her hips and a gleam in her eye.
“Huh?” I felt groggy, but nothing hurt. I was flat on my back on a cot just as hard as the one in my bunk. “What happened?”
“You fainted. Duh.” Chieko crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at me. “You went down like a sack of beans.”
“It’s not funny,” I said.
“It’s a little funny.” Chieko smirked. “Besides, you should be thanking me. I’m the reason you don’t have a concussion.”
“What?”
“I caught you before your skull crashed against the floor. Which wouldn’t have been as hard as the dock Jordana hit, but still. I saved you from a head injury, which means you can read.” She tossed the book she was holding at me. Chieko always had a book with her.
“Maybe later,” I said, and put the book on the bare table beside me. I saw then that I was in my own room in clinic.
The door opened and Brenda stepped in. It all came rushing back then.
Earl.
Hospital.
Heart attack.
My stomach churned as I tried to read Brenda’s face. Was that the face of someone who had just lost her husband?
My face must have been a cinch to read, though, because the first thing out of Brenda’s mouth was, “He’s okay.”
Her face looked tired and paler than usual, but her hair was still pulled back into her tight bun and she was wearing her regular camp uniform, the walkie-talkie on her hip like always. Her clothes were wrinkled, though, so she must have spent the night at the hospital.
“Jordana said he had a heart attack” was all I could get out.
“He did. They took him into emergency surgery right away and it went well. He’s in recovery now.” Her breath caught in her throat and she looked down at the floor for a moment. “He’s got a long recovery ahead of him, but he’s Earl. He’ll be fine.”
The invisible clamp that had been squeezing my chest released. I felt loose and light and okay. Better than okay. A whole lot better.
“How are you holding up, Brenda?” Chieko asked. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, actually. There is.” Then she turned to me. “Do you mind if I take Chieko? I have to get back to the hospital, and I have a lot of directions I need to go over first.”
“Go ahead,” I said, kicking a thin sheet off me. “And I can help, too. I feel fine. I don’t need to be in here.”
“Not your decision to make, Vic,” Brenda scolded, sounding 110 percent like her regular camp director self again. “Wait for the nurse to discharge you. I’m sure it will be soon.”
“And while you wait, you can read.” Chieko pointed to the book beside me. “That’s a different Eleanor book.”
“You’ve been studying First Lady Roosevelt?” Brenda asked.
“No,” I said quickly.
“Yes, you have,” Chieko said.
“I haven’t been studying her. I’m just reading some books about her,” I explained.
“Same thing,” Chieko replied.
“I hired an archery counselor who teaches American history on the side? I’m sure you don’t get that at those fancy tech camps!” Brenda smiled, and some color returned to her face.
“It’s true.” Chieko shook her long bangs out of her eyes and lifted her chin regally. “I’m quite the find.”
“Then can you find the nurse for me so I can get out of here?” I threw my skinny pillow at her.
“So uncouth.” She tucked the pillow under her arm. “I’m prescribing you a dose of Eleanor, stat. Page one. Read.”
I waited until they left and the door closed firmly behind them, but then the moment they did, I opened the book and started reading.
Day 49—Friday
Holly ran flag for the second day in a row. It was impossible not to notice the missing Aster girls. Bella and Gabbi were sent home because they were the ones responsible for the beer, but Simone was still here. Everyone knew by now that Simone was the one camper who hadn’t drunk that night. She was also the only one with enough sense to go get help, the only one more worried about Jordana than about getting in trouble. As for the boys at Forest Lake, none of us knew what was happening to them.
Yarrow had been the smallest cabin at camp all summer, but now we barely even looked like a bunk. It was just me and the Jaidas standing on our patch of packed dirt, between the Clover girls and the Marigolds. Chieko wasn’t at flag with us, hiding behind her dark sunglasses the way she usually did. She was in the dining hall, supervising the staff and filling in for the guy who’d been fired for giving the Asters beer.
She joined us at our table, though, when the pancakes came out.
“Drink some sunshine, darlings,” she said, lifting a pitcher of orange juice and pouring it into our glasses one at a time.
“These pancakes taste like nothing,” Jaida C said. “Where’s the syrup? I need to drench them.”
“They were so much better with blueberries. Remember that? At the beginning of the summer?” Jaida A asked, like it was a million years ago and not just seven weeks.
“Those blueberries were solid bombs of flavor,” Chieko declared.
“Earl grew those,” I heard myself say.
“We should make a flag of that!” Jaida C decided then. “We could paint blueberries all over it and write ‘Earl’s Berry Bombs.’”
“Do you wanna? For real?” Jaida A asked. “We have arts and crafts fourth period today, right after rest hour.”
“Yes!” Jaida C said, then turned to me. “Vic, you have to help.”
“Okay, I will,” I agreed, “if I’m not in the garden.”
But I already knew I wouldn’t be in the arts-and-crafts shack with them. Brenda had promised me that Earl would be okay, but I felt antsy and anxious anyway, like every cell inside me was spinning in circles. There was only one place
I could go to make myself feel better, and it wasn’t Rocky. Rocky was where I went to think and zone out and do nothing, but right now I needed to do something. A lot of something. I needed to work. So I didn’t go back to Yarrow with the Jaidas to change into my swimsuit for first-period swim.
I went straight to the garden instead.
It might have been my mind playing with me, or it might have been because the plants hadn’t been watered in two days, but they all looked like they were drooping with sadness when I arrived that morning. I unwound the hose and got to work, giving each row and each bed the long drink it needed. I worked through first period and second period and third without anyone looking for me or telling me to get back to my scheduled activities.
I looked up once to find Brenda watching me through the window. She didn’t say anything and she didn’t wave. She looked like she was in a trance.
After lunch, where I swallowed about a gallon and a half of water, I went back to the garden. It was rest hour, but rest seemed impossible, and the hard work of carrying and bending and pulling helped, just like Eleanor said it would.
After tripping on the hose for the third time, I decided to coil it back on the wall hook, and that’s when I saw it.
It had been rinsed and hung out to dry, the fabric thin and fading from the sun. I picked it up and ran the cool softness of it through my hands. Then I folded it into a long, thin band, the way Earl did, and put it back where I found it. Earl would need it when he returned to his farmwork, whenever that might be.
“Vic?” a small voice came from the side of the cabin.
I turned to find Vera watching me. She was shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“Vera? Do your counselors know where you are?”
Vera nodded. “They said I could come.”
I beckoned her over.
She started toward me with careful steps. She was carrying something, her hands cupped before her.
“What’ve you got?” I asked, guessing I was about to see another Lithobates sylvaticus.
But she wasn’t holding a frog.
Summer at Meadow Wood Page 20
