Eternal Spring (A Young Adult Short Story Collection), Page 3

  At the campfire, I managed to avoid looking at Ian. Okay, I looked once. Or twice. Both Owen and Maggie stayed by his side at all times.

  Sophie and I had decided to have card night at our cabin before bed. I let Sophie go ahead on her one-hour cell phone break while I supervised a Go Fish tournament.

  When Sophie returned, she decided to start a second tournament. I didn't want to leave, but I'd promised my parents I would check in tonight.

  I walked up to the great room. I didn't see any of the other counselors on my way. When I pulled open the front door to the building, I expected to find one or two other teens there. Instead, the room was empty.

  After grabbing my phone from the desk drawer, I snagged the remote to the giant television. Then I pounced on the couch. I set my cell phone alarm for fifty-six minutes later and dialed my parents. After promising I was healthy, well-fed, and behaving, I said good night to each of them.

  With fifty-three minutes left to enjoy the luxury of the empty great room, I kicked off my Keds and stretched my legs out on the sofa. I needed a blanket and a giant soda, and I'd be in heaven.

  I clicked the remote to bring up the channel guide. Sophie had probably spent her whole hour texting or talking, but I couldn't imagine anything better than an hour of peace.

  Until the front door opened and Ian walked in.

  Suddenly, I knew the best way to spend my hour. I tried to play it cool. He probably had calls to make, and he wouldn't have any time for me. I selected the first decent show I saw and turned it on.

  “Well, don't you look comfortable,” he said with a big smile.

  I smiled back, fighting the urge to sit up. “If only I had a blanket,” I managed to say.

  He walked past and I pretended to watch the show. He'd get his phone and make his calls, and I'd see him for a few more seconds before I had to leave.

  I was wrong.

  “Your wish is my command,” he said, handing me a patchwork quilt.

  “Where did you-?”

  “I know all the secrets,” he said.

  “Can you find a Coke?”

  “I wish,” he said as he came around to the front of the sofa and sat down at the other end.

  My feet were practically touching him. Thank God I'd worn socks today.

  He took the quilt and spread it over both of us. “You don't mind sharing, do you?”

  “Of course not! Thanks.” After that, I couldn't think of anything to say. Finally, he started messing with his cell phone.

  I'd been waiting for days to talk to him. What was wrong with me?

  Not looking away from his phone, Ian said, “Thanks for helping with Max.”

  I pounced on the opportunity for a conversation. “How is he?”

  My heart pitter-pattered as Ian tucked his phone into his pocket. He was choosing me over his phone!

  “Not great. He'll be in the Council's Atlanta Hospital for at least a month.”

  “Poor kid. I never even asked what he did wrong.”

  “I don't think you want to know.”

  “Why not?”

  “He used a charm to help him see through walls. I think he was trying to snoop on the girls in the shower.”

  “Really. The girls?”

  “Okay. The counselors.”

  “Yikes.”

  “I guess some kids don't need to hit puberty before they turn lecherous.”

  I shuddered at the thought of being spied on. “When did he do this charm?”

  “I don't think you want to know.”

  When he glanced down, his wavy brown hair fell into his eyes. “Super.” I almost wished I hadn't helped the kid.

  “If it's any consolation, it will give him something to think about for the next couple of months.” He barely finished saying it before he started laughing.

  “Eww. Not helping.” Had the twerp really watched me in the shower? Better Sophie than me.

  “His neck is about six feet long. Even if he did misbehave, I feel sorry for him. I'm not sure how he's going to eat. The food has a long way to go.”

  “He'll probably get to live on milkshakes.”

  “Probably.”

  My stomach reminded me that I'd only eaten one hot dog at dinner.

  Ian sighed. “I could go for a milkshake.”

  “I wish.”

  “Hang on.” He moved the quilt and stood up.

  Sitting up, I crossed my legs to make more room on the sofa. “Are we breaking in to the kitchen?”

  He laughed. “No.”

  I watched him walk over to the bookcase by the desk. He moved a few books and pulled out two vanilla pudding cups.

  “No way!”

  He reached again and came up with two spoons.

  “You are my hero!” I said.

  “I stashed them in here the other day.” He handed me a spoon and a pudding and sat back down.

  I peeled the foil off the top. “This is so much better than the granola bar hidden under my mattress.”

  I started to dip my spoon in, but Ian held up his pudding cup as if to make a toast.

  “To us,” he said, and then he bumped his cup against mine. “We make a good team.”

  We were a team? I so wanted us to be a team.

  I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just sat there, holding my pudding and smiling at him.

  Did he actually like me? Boys had liked me before, but never the ones that I liked. Their declarations of love always resulted in awkward and messy attempts to avoid hurting their feelings.

  Ian was not the kind of guy I'd push away. I'd never seen eyes like his, like flecks of honey in warm chocolate sauce. I wanted to move closer, to really see them, but I couldn't without making it obvious that I had a thing for him.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the front door open. I wanted to scream, “Go away!”

  The cuter Greg came in. He gave us an inquisitive look.

  “Hey, Greg,” I said and scooped some pudding into my mouth.

  “Hey, man,” Ian said.

  “Do I really get to talk to two people my own age? The non-stop babysitting is overwhelming.”

  “I hear you,” Ian agreed.

  Walking over to us, Greg said, “Are you kidding me? Where did you get pudding?”

  With a sigh, Ian stood up. “I guess we'll have to buy your silence.” Then he went to give Greg one his puddings.

  I took another bite and pretended Greg wasn't interrupting. Before long, my alarm beeped. “Gotta go,” I said, hoping Ian would decide to walk with me.

  “G'night, Emma,” Ian said.

  “See you at breakfast,” Greg said.

  Friday, our cabin was in the middle of our morning chaos when a frantic child from the other boy's cabin knocked on the door. “Mrs. L says for Emma to come to cabin four right away.”

  He ran off before I could ask any questions.

  I slipped into my sneakers, yelled to Sophie, and ran after him.

  When I got to cabin four, I saw a boy lying on the bed, struggling to breathe. He was turning a little blue, but that clearly wasn't his punishment. His punishment was the giant pair of kangaroo feet that poked out from under the quilt. Mrs. L and the two Gregs were busy examining every inch of him.

  “What's wrong?” I asked when I found Ian.

  “We don't know.”

  The boy's face was all rashy, and I looked at his hands. They were too.

  Ian said, “All we know is that he made candy out of some leaves.”

  “Emma, see what the children know. Ian, check the bathroom for any traces of the potion he used.”

  I rushed outside to see what the boys had seen. Trying not to scare them, I said, “Do you know what he ate?”

  “Candy.”

  “What kind?”

  They shrugged.

  “Did he give some to anybody else?”

  “No,” a kid with glasses said.

  “He tried to give me a piece,” one boy answered. “I didn't eat it.”


  I nodded. “Because it is against the rules?”

  He shook his head. “No, because it looked like poison ivy.”

  The rash on his hands and face! “You saw the leaves?”

  “No, but the candy had three leaves, and I was afraid he used poison ivy.”

  I turned and ran back into the cabin. “Poison ivy! He made the candy from poison ivy.”

  “Of course,” the director said, relief evident in her voice. “Ian, get my medical kit.”

  Ian mumbled a charm and the kit appeared in his hand.

  Mrs. L pulled out a syringe and stuck the kid in the arm. “Scott, carry him to the van. The rest of you get the other campers under control.”

  The campers were quiet and the mood had turned gloomy as we all watched the van pull away.

  “I guess we need to feed them,” Ian said.

  When we got to the kitchen, we discovered that Mrs. L had been interrupted in the middle of cooking breakfast. Ian grabbed a spatula and tossed the charcoal-like remains of pancakes from the grill into the sink. He turned off the grill.

  “What do we do?” I asked Ian as I ran water over the charred mess.

  “I know where the emergency cereal is,” he said. “We're covered.”

  I went to the cabinet and pulled out the Styrofoam bowls. “Are there any fruit loops in there?”

  Ian set three giant boxes of cereal on the cabinet. None of them were fruit loops. Then with a gleam in his eye, he pulled out another box and said, “We're saving these for ourselves.”

  Shouts from the other room sent terror through my heart.

  “Ian, help!” Sophie yelled.

  “Something's wrong,” I said, and the two of us ran to help.

  Scott and one of the Gregs were standing with Owen. Only it wasn't Owen. It was another camper with an elephant trunk.

  “Owen!” Ian yelled. “Where are you?”

  Sophie motioned from across the room. We ran over to see the real Owen lying on the floor. My heart sank when I saw that he was lashing about desperately.

  “What happened?” Ian asked Sophie as he crouched beside the boy.

  “He must have used a charm on Tyler,” she said.

  Owen whimpered, and Ian started feeling Owen's torso, then his arms and legs. Finding nothing, he gently touched Owen's trunk. “Talk to me Owen.”

  Owen made muffled sounds, and finally Ian lifted the trunk to reveal his mouth.

  The boy had fish lips. A tiny little mouth and fish lips where his mouth had been. The opening was smaller than a dime. Smaller than an app icon on my iPhone.

  “Oh crap!” Sophie said.

  “He was breathing through his mouth,” Ian said, frantic now. “He can't breathe through the trunk, and this tiny hole is practically useless.”

  Owen thrashed on the floor.

  “Get everybody out of here,” Ian said. “Take them to the great room, Sophie. Emma, when I'm finished, you need to calm him down. Scott, take Tyler down the lake, he likes to be outside.”

  Oh my God! We were going to have to give Owen a tracheotomy with a ballpoint pen like they had on that TV show.

  As the kids rushed to follow Sophie, Ian started chanting.

  Owen calmed, and I could see his chest rising and falling as he breathed.

  “How did you-?” I looked at Ian and saw that he no longer had a mouth. Instead, he had a tiny fish mouth with itty-bitty fish lips.

  I gasped, and Ian's face turned a deep red. I could see the misery in his eyes.

  Owen started crying, and I turned back to him.

  “It's going to be fine, Owen. You can breathe now. You don't have to worry anymore.” I glanced around for Ian but he was gone.

  The boy sat up and threw his arms around me, holding me tight.

  “You're okay now,” I said, rubbing his back as his tears soaked my shoulder. “You're okay.” How had Ian done that? He'd assumed Owen's punishment somehow. I didn't even know it was possible. "Poor baby," I said to the weeping boy. Poor Ian. How long was he going to be stuck with that fish mouth? How would he eat? How would he talk?

 

  All day long, I tried to find Ian. He wasn't anywhere to be found.

  When I finally got my cell phone time that night, I stopped by the boy's cabin, but he wasn't there either.

  I couldn't think of anything but Ian. I'd comforted Owen until he'd calmed down. Then he'd spent the day with the director. Who had taken care of Ian?

  He was a hero. I don't know if I would have done that even if I had known how.

  Tomorrow morning, the campers would climb back onto the school bus and go home. Mom was coming to pick up me and Sophie soon after.

  I had to find a way to see Ian.

  My plan to stay up and sneak out after the campers and Sophie fell asleep didn't work out. Every time I thought it was clear, I'd hear a whisper or a muffled giggle. I cocooned myself in my covers and waited, but the next thing I knew, it was daylight. I woke up scratching my leg.

  Unfortunately, getting five girls to pack their stuff and clean a cabin took more time and energy than I'd anticipated. We led them up to the mess hall, but the other campers had finished and left.

  “Everybody grab a muffin and a juice box,” Sophie said. “Then we have to march down to the parking lot.”

  “I want cereal,” Britney whined.

  “Tell your parents you want cereal for lunch,” I said as I grabbed some napkins. “We don't have time.”

  “I've never heard of cereal for lunch,” Leslie said.

  “You can't have cereal for lunch.” Kelsey rolled her eyes.

  “Move it, girls,” Sophie snapped. “I've got a life to get back to.”

  When we joined the others, we discovered that Scott had become Ian's mouthpiece.

  Each had their cell phones back, and Ian was texting Scott. Scott would then tell the campers what Ian was saying.

  Ian had covered his mouth and nose with a dark blue bandana like an outlaw from the Old West. I was relieved that I didn't have to see the fish mouth again.

  “Can I take a minute, Sophie?” I had to go talk to him. I didn't care if Scott or the kids heard what I had to say.

  Before she could answer, the bus appeared down the road. I could not get a break.

  We hugged each camper, and made sure they had all their belongings. I had time to see Ian fist-bumping his campers and tousling their hair, and then Mrs. L was addressing all of us. She called us counselors' heroes and urged the campers to aspire to be like us.

  I teared up, but Sophie went a step further and actually sniffled.

  The campers cheered to thank their counselors, and then they climbed on the bus.

  We waved dutifully until the bus was out of sight.

  Mrs. L turned to us and said, “Hallelujah! I think that was the longest week of my life. Let's head to the great room for pizza and cokes. You guys deserve a party.”

  “When I get home, I'm going to sleep for a whole day,” Sophie said as we walked over.

  “What about Cole?”

  “I just want sleep. He can wait.”

  “He doesn't get home 'til tomorrow, does he?”

  “No. Which only means that I can't prove to you that I'd rather have a nap.”

  “Whatever.” Ian kept to the outside fringes of the group as we made our way to the great room.

  We walked up the porch to the great room, and Scott ended up holding the door for all of us. An idea hit me, and I stopped long enough to ask him a hushed question. “Can I see your phone for a minute?”

  Scott frowned. “Why? You'll get yours back inside.”

  “I know.” Shedding my last ounce of self-respect, I gave him a flirtatious smile. “It's really important though. I'll give it right back. I promise.”

  “Fine,” he said. Then he pulled his phone out and handed it to me. “I'm missing the pizza.” He went inside, leaving me on the porch alone.

  The number he'd used to text Ian all morning was at the top of th
e text thread. I sent it to my own phone, afraid that I wouldn't remember ten digits in my state of exhaustion. Then I deleted the traces of what I'd done, and turned off the phone.

  Sneaky liar much? Yes. If I'd just asked him for the number, he would have teased me or Ian mercilessly. Ian had been avoiding me, and I wasn't going to risk sending him running. Of course, he may be scared off by me texting him, but at least I would be the only one who knew.

  I slipped through the door and joined the others. Scott was ready for the hand-off, and The Two J's didn't notice.

  Mrs. L was applauding our work over the week, and she began a special thank you to Ian. “I especially want to recognize Ian for all he did to keep his campers safe. Not many teen witches would sacrifice themselves for a child. And while Ian had pointed out to me many times his own discomfort is nothing compared to the life of the child, I think we all know exactly how great his sacrifice truly is.”

  “Yeah, man,” Scott said. He clapped his hand on Ian's back. “He's going to miss the rest of the school year, and he told me he was the starting goalie on his team.”

  A series of pitying noises filled the room.

  Ian's face flamed around the bandana.

  “Let's all give Ian a hand,” Mrs. L said.

  We clapped and cheered. Ian finally gave up the embarrassed act, and he started bowing. Scott hooted. The two Gregs broke into an unbelievably well-choreographed dance.

  We all cheered more.

  Finally, the group calmed down.

  “Grab some pizza,” Mrs. L said. “You deserve it.”

  The others made a dive for the pizza. Except Ian, who grabbed a coke and straw.

  I took the opportunity to ask Mrs. L for my phone. “I know we get them back soon, and I'm not trying to cut in line. I just wanted to try to talk to Ian before we left.”

  Apparently, I'd said the magic words because Mrs. L beamed at me as we walked to her desk for my phone.

  “Thanks.”

  “Thank you, Emma. I hope you'll consider coming back.”

  I had been dreading this week. I was exhausted, and I had poison ivy on my calf. “Of course,” I answered. “I'd love to.”

  She handed me my phone. “Good to hear,” she said.

  I powered up my phone, turned off the ringer, and waited for the text from Scott's phone to come through. Then I looked back at the group. Sophie had two cans of Coke in front of her, and she was inhaling her pizza. The others, except for Ian, were happily munching on a slice. Ian had disappeared.

  Sophie looked my way, and I held my finger to my lips. Then I backed away from the group to text Ian without everyone clamoring for their own phones.