Dumping Dallas Winston

by Jessica Bucher

  “When do I get to see him?” asked Reagan, following my eyes to the edge of camp.

  I should have known telling her about Drake would mean she wanted to meet him, but at the moment it had been a necessity, now I was stuck with the fallout. How long could I get away with dodging that question? Two weeks? Two months? Long enough to change Drake’s mind about keeping our relationship a secret? I started to make up an excuse about introducing everyone after camp, but Mrs. Riley was bustling toward us, and I knew I was saved, at least for the morning.

  As a group we prepared a hot breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage. I wasn’t a nature girl by any means, but I loved these moments with our troupe in which we all sat around the picnic table, bleary eyed and make-up free, shoveling down what felt like the world’s best breakfast and knowing half of what made it delicious was having made it together. Even Abigail wasn’t so bad in moments like this.

  When breakfast was finished Mrs. Riley rose from the table, collected our paper plates and asked that we each take a seat on the logs that surrounded the fire.

  “As project advisor,” she began. “It is my job to help you choose a project for your Gold Award. I will ask you to think critically, to consider your local resources, and to create lasting change. I’m here to empower you,” she declared. Across the fire, Abigail’s eyes were burning with excitement.

  I nudged Reagan beside me. “How long before she thrusts her fist in the air and shouts girl scouts forever!” I whispered, nodding my head toward Abigail.

  Reagan let out a giggle and her Mom shot us both a withering look that caused me to purse my lips shut for the rest of her speech.

  We listened patiently as, shocker, Abigail announced her plans to mentor a brownie troop through a rain garden project and Keena declared she would be working with the local middle school to bring back spring break drama camp.

  Part of our job as council was to ask clarifying questions and make sure each project would both benefit the community and create lasting change. I didn’t really see how either of those projects were sustainable, but I wasn’t about to offer criticism. Not when my own project had yet to be vetted.

  “Harper, you’re up,” said Mrs. Riley.

  I sucked in a deep breath and stood to address the group. There was a slight rustling in the trees behind me and I felt my cheeks growing red. Either I was being hyper paranoid or Landon and Drake were eavesdropping on our council meeting. I barely wanted to plead my case to the troupe, knowing they were watching made me feel twice as ridiculous. It was hard to uphold your reputation as a rebel while wearing a khaki sash covered in girl scout patches and asking permission to organize a large scale community service project.

  “Harper?” Reminded Mrs. Riley.

  “Right,” I answered. I needed to tune out whomever might or might not be hanging out in the trees and focus solely on the faces in front of me. “For my project I want to organize a group of teens to create a mural project along the riverwalk. Right now it is covered in graffiti, and although I don’t think graffiti is inherently bad, I do think we can do better than four letter words and questionable political symbols.”

  Surprisingly, Abigail was nodding affirmatively.

  “What would the murals be?” asked Mrs. Riley.

  I reached up to rub the shaved side of my head. That was the part I was struggling with. I knew I wanted a cohesive theme to tie the murals together, but I hadn’t yet figured out what that might be.

  “I haven’t exactly decided yet.”

  Mrs. Riley looked thoughtful and for a moment I worried she was about to suggest I keep thinking and come back to the group when I had a real idea. But then, she surprised me.

  “I think this is a great idea. You’ve identified a need in the community that needs addressing. You’ve incorporated using local teens to help meet the need and potentially this is a program that could be added to and improved upon over time.”

  I felt a smile working itself across my face and Reagan clasped her hands together with excitement beside me.

  “What does the council think?” she asked, looking around the campfire.

  “I think I want to help paint that mural!” said Abigail, the insufferable suck-up. Soon the rest of the girls were agreeing and offering to lend a hand. I knew Drake and Landon were probably dry heaving in the bushes at the sound of all this positivity but at the moment the only thing I cared about was knowing I had a mile long stretch of blank canvas just waiting for me to use it to tell all of Grover something important.

  I just had to figure out what that was.

  Landon

  One time in seventh grade, I humiliated some kid in the cafeteria for having a full-blown mustache. I made a huge deal about it, yelling at him across the room that no one should look like Tom Selleck before high school, and I could see on the kid’s face that he was mortified.

  It didn’t help that he was brand-spanking new to Grover.

  By far one of the jerkiest thing I ever did, I never really lived it down. I still thought about that guy who I last heard enrolled in some fancy STEM high school and was graduating early. The reason it still killed me was not because I embarrassed him but because I knew why I embarrassed him.

  Every single one of my friends had started shaving that year. Every single one. And I couldn’t find my peach fuzz with the Hubble telescope. I inherited my mom’s almost-white hair, and when I saw that kid walk into Grover Middle with better facial hair than my dad, I lashed out.

  Standing in the woods, my ankles getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, I watched Harper in her khaki combo. Biting her lip between her teeth, she looked more nervous than I’d ever seen her, and I thought about that day in seventh grade.

  And I wanted to tease the hell out of her for it.

  I couldn’t wait to get her alone so I could tell her how sickly her legs appeared in those shorts and how plain she looked without the black makeup that usually lined her eyes. But worst of all, I wanted to tell her that her idea was stupid. That covering the riverwalk with some meaningful mural was exactly the kind of dumb thing she’d want to do, and she’d probably never really follow through with it.

  It was like the seventh grade all over again, and the parallel between these two incidents was not lost on me.

  Once the girls broke their morning circle time, they all scattered to do some chores before their nature hike scheduled in one hour. Harper beelined for the spot where I stood which meant she definitely heard me shifting to scratch my legs.

  “Where’s Drake?” she whispered as soon as she found me alone.

  “He told me something interesting this morning,” I said without answering her question.

  “Where is he?”

  “Went into town for who-knows-what. Said he’d be back before sunset...you know because that’s the only reason he came,” I spit at her with a scowl on my face.

  She scoffed at me, rolling her eyes. Then, she took off toward the bathrooms with two large jugs in her hands.

  “Did you know your boyfriend has a criminal record?” I asked, trailing behind her.

  She faked a loud sarcastic gasp. “Oh my gosh, really?”

  “He’s on probation, Harper. Do you know what your dad would do if he found out you were dating him?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care.” She ignored me as she stomped toward the water pump. Luckily the only other people around was a family using the bathrooms. Harper and I kept our eyes peeled for khaki.

  “So you don’t care that your boyfriend hates cops?” I asked, my voice just loud enough for the parents in the nearby family to give us skeptical glances.

  Harper rolled her eyes and turned her back to them. “Have you considered that it’s none of your business?”

  She filled the first jug and tried to move it, and when I saw her struggling, I clasped my hands next to hers, and together, we lifted it away. Her eyes met mine as soon as we set it down, and I almost teased her about how awful she looked without eyeliner, but I did
n’t.

  Instead, I stared into those almond-shaped hazel orbs and considered telling her that they never looked brighter.

  Pulling away, she started filling the second jug. The family left, and I leaned against the building, staring at her with a wicked smirk on my face.

  “What do you want, Landon?” she asked, sounding exasperated.

  “I like your outfit.”

  A soft chuckle escaped her lips. “I knew you were going to tease me about this.”

  “I’m sorry...what was that name you gave me and my friends?” I squeezed my chin and stared upward.

  Her laugh increased until I actually got a full-blown smile, stretching across her cheeks. If she grew out her hair, ditched the raccoon eyes, and smiled like that more often, she might actually have been pretty.

  “You mean the Khaki Collective?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Hey, I don’t wear this voluntarily,” she said, defending herself. The second jug was done, and I stepped up to help her move it.

  “Still...you’re a little bit of a hypocrite,” I said, keeping the irony of that statement to myself.

  “I’m a hypocrite?”

  “Yeah, you can’t make fun of my outfits when you are clearly the reigning queen of khaki.”

  She gasped as her fingers slipped from the jug. When it hit the ground, a fountain of ice cold water shot up like a geyser and drenched me from the waist up. As the cool breeze passed through my wet shirt, I let out a howl and opened my eyes to see Harper standing there with her mouth shaped like an O and a laugh hiding just behind her shocked expression.

  “You’re dead,” I said as I hoisted up the heavy jug and stalked toward Harper who let out a scream and took off in a run.

  “This is the only outfit I have today!” she cried just as I slung the jug toward her, sending a stream that she narrowly side-stepped.

  Her giggles were loud, and I realized in the back of my mind that we were very likely to be caught if someone heard. But she was too busy dodging my attacks, and I was too busy enjoying the bright smile on her face.

  “This is for trying to kill me with a shoe,” I said as I caught her square in the chest with a splash.

  “Landon?” a soft voice chirped from somewhere behind me. I turned just in time to see Reagan and another girl standing there staring at us like we had just been caught...which I guess we had.

  Harper

  Oh snap! I looked like I was about to enter a wet T-shirt contest with Landon Maxwell, who, I had to admit, did not look half-bad soaked in frigid cold water, and Reagan and Keena were there to witness.

  “It’s not what you think!” I declared, noting the extra roundness of Reagan’s eyes as she looked from me to Landon and then back to me again. It was pretty obvious she thought my super secret boyfriend was Landon, and that was not the rumor I needed flying around Grover, even if it would keep her from finding out about Drake.

  Keena on the other hand went to a private school on the other side of town and she was too busy gaping at Landon wringing the water from his shirt to bother wondering why he was here. I hated even thinking it, but it was hard to deny that there was a lot going on there that could be considered attractive, primarily in the abs department. I averted my eyes when Landon caught me looking and somehow managed to smirk even bigger than usual.

  “Hello, Reagan,” he said with false sweetness. “I like your outfit.”

  It took Reagan a hot second to believe I was telling the truth. All it required was one smarmy Landon-like comment to remind her that there was absolutely no chance we were actually dating.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

  “Just getting a little camping in,” he replied.

  “Mmhmm...alone?”

  “I really like um, trees, beavers, that sort of thing.”

  I stifled a laugh. Beavers? Landon was literally the worst liar I had ever encountered.

  “If you like nature you should come on the hike today!” said Keena. The words burst from her mouth with overenthusiastic exuberance.

  Reagan and I both looked at her like she’d gone full on bag lady.

  “My mother is not going to let him tag along on our troop hike,” said Reagan, stating the obvious.

  Keena’s blush really brought out the freckles on her nose. “It’s a public trail. It’s not like we’d ask her permission.”

  I did not like the grin that was working its way across Landon’s face.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, looking at Keena with newfound interest.

  “Keena,” she replied, and I imagined how challenging it must have been for Landon to reserve the urge to make fun of it.

  “Keena, I like the way you think. In fact, I can think of nothing, nothing I would rather do than follow you girls through the wilderness. I bet I can learn a lot just by observing.” His eyes locked on mine as he finished speaking.

  “I can already feel myself getting grounded,” muttered Reagan.

  “Knock yourself out,” I growled. “We have to get back to camp.”

  Landon held his hands up in a mock peace gesture. “Of course! Just...one thing before you go.”

  Landon reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “If I could just get you three to squeeze together for a photo that would be great. I really like the way you guys look in khaki. It’s a real ode to the girl scouts.”

  “Sure,” said Keena, completely oblivious to the fact that he was: A, making fun of us, and B, probably planning to do so on a much larger scale just as soon as he had access to the internet again.

  She squeezed the two of us to her sides and plastered a smile to her face while Landon clicked away. Reagan and I were giving real murdery looks to the camera, but it was only fueling his evil energy.

  “That’s about enough,” I said, looking down at my watch. “If you’ll excuse us we have actual stuff to do on this trip.”

  “Oh totally,” said Landon bobbing his head up and down like he really took scouting seriously.

  “Real quick though,” he reached a hand up and traced his finger around one of the circular patches on Keena’s vest. I was pretty sure I heard her partially hyperventilate from general proximity to a boy. “Could you tell me a little about this patch here? What’s it say?” he asked, leaning close to examine the patch. “It’s your business—Run it!”.

  I shot Reagan a warning look and she puffed her cheeks out, her favorite expression for someone gag me before it’s too late.

  “That’s the P & L ambassador patch. You earn it for helping teach business ethics to younger scouts. It’s part of your cookie entrepreneurship.”

  Landon’s face lit up like the Fourth of July. “Harper, let me see your vest.”

  I clapped a hand over the right hand side of my chest.

  “Come on, wear it proud,” he goaded.

  “I will castrate you,” I hissed.

  Across camp, Mrs. Riley barked into a bullhorn. “Time to go, girls!”

  Without so much as looking at Landon I tugged Keena by the elbow and dragged her back toward camp. We weren’t ten feet away when I heard him call out after us.

  “You do sell cookies, Harper Huntington! You. Do. Sell. Cookies!”

  Landon

  As it turned out, I loved camping. In fact, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Even after the crummy start to the morning, I was finding myself more and more excited about this little nature hike. Maybe some fresh air was good for me.

  Fresh air and torturing Harper, the recipe for pure happiness.

  I found a bench on the trail and sat down, waiting for the girls and trying to look as nonchalant about it as possible. I even packed a backpack and granola because apparently, I was an outdoorsy person now.

  When I heard the chatter of teenage girls make their way up the trail, I sent a big fake, bright smile to the leader of the pack, a real Karen in a tan vest and white sunblock on her nose. She greeted me and kept on walking
, a few girls keeping close to her while the rest straggled behind.

  And there was my straggler, the grimacing girl with daggers for eyes. She and Reagan stopped by the bench and let the rest of the group move ahead.

  “I was hoping you were eaten by bears,” she mumbled.

  “Not yet. Is there a patch for saving hot guys from bear attacks?” I asked as she started walking and I followed.

  “If there was, I wouldn’t get it for saving you.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Hi Landon,” a voice chirped from behind me. It was the curly-haired girl with glasses and a little gap in her teeth. Cute, for a cartoon character.

  “Hi Keena,” I said back to her in a high-pitched tone, poking her in the side. She giggled and passed by, leaving me and Harper at the back of the line.

  “Seriously, Landon. Can’t you just leave me alone?” she grumbled so no one else could hear.

  “Not until you dump that boyfriend and convince me that you’re not going to do anything stupid.”

  I watched as Harper’s eyes shifted toward Reagan who wasn’t walking all that far ahead, and she spun on me and stopped me in my tracks. “I’m not dumping Drake,” she whispered, her face so close to mine I could smell the sweet minty gum in her mouth. “And why would you think I’m up to no good? Maybe you’ve got me all wrong.”

  “I hope I do, Harper, but I’m afraid that he’s using you to get back at your dad.”

  She rolled her eyes and started to move away, but I grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. As soon as her eyes met mine, my words were lost. I was just about to say something to her—now I had nothing.

  Her lips parted and her eyebrows creased, and I didn’t let go of her arm as a whole lot of thoughts that didn’t make sense swirled around in my brain.

  “Harper, did we lose you?” a woman’s voice called from the front of the line. The rest of the group was out of view, but the interruption scared us both. Suddenly, Harper’s hands were on my chest as she shoved me back toward the thicket of leaves and bushes behind me. I was falling for a moment before I landed, and all I heard was the scramble of her feet as she took off to catch up to the others.