What did you wish for?” Marcus asked me after Ruth and Amos had bid us all pleasant dreams. We all had an early day ahead, so most people drifted away from the fire and back down the trail toward their respective cabins or their cars to head home. I had lingered a little longer, not quite ready to go to bed yet. Marcus, to my delight, stayed too.
“You first.” I gave him a half-smile.
“I wished for an intelligent, beautiful girl to appear before me,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting.
I wagged a finger at him. “Ah, but you fell for my trick and told me, so now it won’t come true.”
“It was already true before I even wished,” Marcus said, leaning his face close to mine so there was no way to mistake he was talking about me.
My face flushed with pleasure. “What did you really wish for?”
Marcus squinted at me, a little of his bravado fading. “Do you really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
He sighed, shoulders sagging. “Just to have a relaxing summer. I didn’t have the best first year at school. College isn’t always the great experience everyone tells you it will be.”
“What happened?” I asked softly. “If you want to tell me.”
Marcus inhaled. “I’ll spare you the gory details, but in a nutshell, my grades weren’t what I expected, which meant I didn’t get the internship I wanted. My parents were not pleased. Thankfully, this job came up.” He looked at me with a small smile. “So, it wasn’t all bad.”
I was touched he’d opened up. “I’m sorry. I know what it feels like to be disappointed.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His brown eyes were warm on mine. “I shared. Now it’s your turn.” Marcus smiled again, this time wider, encouraging me.
Something in my heart tugged. Maybe he understands. “Well, speaking of parents not being pleased. Last June, I got arrested.”
Marcus’s mouth opened and then he clamped it shut. “Not what I was expecting you to say.”
I offered a wry smile. “Not what I was expecting either. I was dating this guy, kind of the stereotypical ‘bad boy,’ and he decided to shoplift a ton of stuff, while we were together, and keep that plan a secret from me. It was awful. My parents were, obviously, furious, and I got my best friend mixed up in it too. So not only was everyone mad at me, my dad took it five steps further than every other parent on the planet and sent me away to boarding school.”
“Ouch.”
“And it still stings. All signs point to my going back in the fall, even though I deserve to come home for senior year. My track record over the last twelve months has been spotless.”
Marcus sat up straighter and pushed his shoulders back. “Just tell your dad that. Easy.”
If only. “It’s more complicated than that.” I had never just told my dad anything—any words I had for him were carefully selected, after mentally weighing all possible reactions.
Marcus shook his head. “It’s not. You want something. You demand it. You get it. You just have to believe it will happen.” It sounded like something my dad would say. Marcus was so self-assured. I could tell he did believe that. I doubted he’d experienced much rejection in his life, besides the aforementioned internship.
I sighed. “As nice as that sounds, I don’t think I could ever demand anything of anyone. Like I said, it still stings.”
Marcus put his hands on my shoulders, massaging them. “Anything I can do to help you heal?”
“You think you’re smooth,” I said, leaning into him just a bit. I couldn’t deny that I liked the heat building between us from his touch.
“Am I?” he whispered in my ear.
I stood up, shivers running down my spine. “The jury is still out. I’ll tell you when I’ve reached a verdict.” I smiled sweetly at him and then turned to leave. In one swift motion, that was too flawless to not have been practiced, Marcus stood, grabbed my hand, and spun me around, like we were dancing, so I ended up in his arms. My heart beat faster as I realized we were so close I could feel his warm breath on my cheek.
“What do you think now? Did I convince you?”
Sometimes I hated that I was so transparent. Tatum used to roll her eyes at me for being a shameless flirt with boys at school, and sure, that flirting had gotten me into more than a little trouble with my parents, but I couldn’t help it. I liked the way I felt when I did it. Like for once, I was in control. And I was never in control. So what if it was superficial? I wasn’t planning to marry any of them. Marcus included.
“I may need just a little more persuading, counselor.”
I knew he was going to kiss me. Boys like Marcus are like heat-seeking missiles. They see a friendly target and they launch. And right on cue, Marcus’ lips landed on mine. It had been so long since I’d been this close to someone; I lost myself in the moment. His kiss was confident and I matched mine with his—strong and teasing. He knew exactly what he was doing and I knew exactly what he was doing too.
He pulled back and watched me, his skin alight in the flickering firelight. “You’re something else, Ashlyn.”
It sounded like a compliment, so I took it. “Thanks.” I gently unwound myself from his embrace. “I need to go to bed. Lots of groups to check in tomorrow.”
Marcus took my hand again, like he wanted to pull me back to him. “But I’ll see you . . .”
“I’ll see you,” I said, purposely not committing. I could hear my dad’s voice in my head telling me to watch myself, that this boy would distract me, that he only wanted one thing, that he would make me ruin everything that had been planned for me. I ignored it. I waved at Marcus and took off down the trail for my cabin, hoping Hannah would already be asleep so she wouldn’t ask where I’d been.
On one of the benches on my path, far enough away that Marcus couldn’t see me, I touched my lips, remembering how Marcus tasted like mint. Then I bent down and scribbled on the bench with the campfire pen,
BELIEVE IN KISSING.
Eve Ensler
My good mood did not last.
“Ashlyn, where are the reservations for the March of Dimes group?” Deb asked accusingly, waving a piece of licorice in my face. “They’re missing.”
Deb was not a fan of technology. Even though retreaters were encouraged to book their stays on the Sweetwater website, she refused to turn her computer on most days—the only one on our “off the grid” campus hardwired to the internet. Deb liked to have me print the documents out for her, and then they’d inevitably end up in a chaotic pile on her desk. Mallory had mentioned her parents used to work together before their recent divorce—maybe her dad had been the detail-oriented one of the pair. I’d been seriously contemplating straightening up for her, but then decided against it. Who knew what else was in there? With my luck, some wild insect would crawl out of the abyss and bite me. And of course, when something went missing, though I knew logically it wasn’t my fault, I inevitably second-guessed whether I’d made a mistake.
I waded into the sea of papers and folders and pulled out the reservation binder, only to have half the pages fall out onto the floor. You were always so clumsy, said phantom Dad. My cheeks burned. “Here,” I said, handing it to her. “I’ll check the ones that fell out.”
“Thanks,” she said dismissively and sat down behind the desk, flipping through the binder. “By the way, there’s some mail for you.”
“Mail?”
Deb waved her hand in the general direction of the folding table shoved in the corner that served as my makeshift desk. “Over there.”
I stood in front of my little space and saw nothing that looked remotely like mail. I moved the chair and peeked under, but there were no stray envelopes. I side-eyed Deb’s desk. If I were a gambling girl, I’d bet that my poor mail was somewhere in her mess. I sighed and gave up. I’d have to dig through it later on, when she left for her next cooking challenge—she was teaching cheese and chocolate soufflés later.
“Hey, Ashlyn?” Deb yelled. She was barely fifteen feet away from me, but from the volume of her voice you would have thought we were across campus from one another.
“Yes?” I said, moderately and professionally, modeling what an inside voice should sound like.
She drained the last gulp in her Styrofoam cup and crushed it in her fist. Gross. “Would you make me a cup of coffee? I’m just swamped over here.”
More like in a swamp. Of papers. “Sure, Deb.”
I walked down the short hallway, past the glass-walled classroom—the only other place on campus with technology—where Amos was guiding a group of lawyers through some kind of assessment results. There were pie charts up on the smartboard and ten heads were furiously taking notes on laptops and tablets. I wished I was in there instead of being Deb’s errand-girl. When I entered the small staff breakroom and opened the cabinet to grab a coffee filter, two envelopes toppled out, bounced off the counter, and fell to the floor. When I bent to pick them up, I saw they both bore my name.
“Seriously, Deb,” I groaned. She must have left them in the cabinet when she made her first cup of coffee. I stuck the letters in the back pocket of my jean shorts to read later when I wouldn’t be infiltrated by the voice of Deb. Or my dad. I made her coffee as quickly as the machine would go and booked it back down the hall.
I handed the cup to Deb. “Here. I’m going to go make sure the gym is in good shape.” Ba dum ching, I would’ve said, if I was talking to Tatum, adding in some air drums. Deb just waved, and I got the heck out of there.
Beyond the main lodge, in the opposite direction from my cabin, the firepit, and the lake, was the forest—tall evergreens as far as the eye could see and hills so far away they looked purple. I followed the trail leading to the ropes course and zipline for a bit, before ducking off the path into the unmarked wilderness. I pulled the mail from my back pocket and sat in a shady spot under a tree.
The first was greeting card-shaped and sealed in a navy-blue envelope. Silver marker writing. Return address: Tatum Elsea from Arlington, VA. I sliced it open with my index finger, revealing a greeting card, with two little girls making faces at each other on the front. I laughed. They could’ve been us ten years ago.
Dear Ash,
Hope you’re having a great time at your new job. No, I don’t hope, I know. You’re definitely having a good time. You’re probably hanging by the pool with a hot mountain man by now, right? I’m totally right. Things here are fine. The step-monster and I are signing up for a photography class together. How’s that for a plot twist? She’s being surprisingly openminded. I’m going to have to check her koolaid. I’m going up to visit Tilly in New York in a few weeks. I’ll send you a postcard.
Love and ladybugs (the best kind of bugs, right?), Tate
P.S. Have you heard from your parents?
I chuckled. Tatum and her stepmother got along only slightly better than my dad and I did. The difference was, they’d actually been working on improving their relationship. I frowned at her P.S. Did my dad’s prison phone check-in, aka the most pointless phone call in the world, count as hearing from my parents? I didn’t think it did. I set Tatum’s card down next to me and picked up the second letter. It was the kind of long, white, business-sized envelope I used to steal from my dad’s office when I wanted to pretend I was the boss. I’d “send” letters to my employees—my dolls and teddy bears—telling them what a good job they were doing. And sometimes I’d tell them how terrible they were doing and fire them. A chip off the ol’ block. This envelope had a return address I didn’t recognize. I slid it open.
Dear Ashlyn,
I miss you very much and think of you every minute of the day. I want you to know that I’m feeling a little better and everyone here is treating me well. I should be able to make phone calls soon. Your uncle sent me the number to call and I can’t wait to hear your voice. I know we have a lot to talk about and there’s so much I need you to know. But for now, I love you more than anything.
Love always,
Mom
I didn’t even realize I was crying until the tears hit her letter, smearing the ink. I wanted to talk to my mom more than anything right then.
“Hey, sad girl, what’s wrong?”
Startled, I looked up. Bax hovered over me, a mess of cords and pulleys draped over him. I wiped my nose on the back of my hand and did my best impression of a girl who was definitely not sad, sitting under a tree. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
He looked at me. I couldn’t read his expression, but in the sunlight streaming between the tree branches, his eyes were so pale blue they almost seemed colorless. And then he nodded, just once, and moved on as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “Tomorrow, Ruth and I are going to take some of the new staff up on the course. Through the ziplines. Do you want to come?”
Did I want to go on the zipline? Not only had I never done it before, I wasn’t even sure whether I was afraid of heights. Right on cue, that familiar, cutting dad-voice invaded my brain. Is it safe? Is this the best use of the opportunity I’ve arranged for you at Sweetwater? But this time, instead of driving me back into my cocoon, my dad’s phantom accusations gave me the push I needed to fly.
“Sure, why not?” And, he’d said new staff. Which meant Marcus might be there. And anywhere Marcus was, I wanted to be. Last night was the first time since my dad dropped his bomb that I felt, even for a moment, like nothing was wrong. Like my life wasn’t in a tailspin. Like I could just . . . be. If flying through the air on a glorified rope swing with a boy who kissed me like I was the only girl in the world was an option, I’d take it.
Bax nodded again, adjusted the cords around his shoulders, and walked away. I turned back to my letters and reread both of them. It was nice to know that there were two people out there who cared about me, even if they couldn’t be here with me.