Alice frowned. ‘But it would still be good to prepare somehow.’
‘Okay,’ Briar said. ‘How about you handle anything logistical, and I can handle mediation between campers? You always hated that part.’
She had said it without thinking, instinctively, but the look Alice gave her made her realize she’d messed up. The offer was veering into friendly territory, and they weren’t friends.
‘That would be really nice,’ Alice said, laying a hand on Briar’s arm. ‘Thank you.’
Briar looked down at where Alice was touching her, suddenly feeling much warmer. ‘I’m gonna head in.’
Alice nodded, looking a little sad. ‘Yeah, sure, of course. Good night.’
‘Good night,’ Briar said, wading back to the shore. She pulled on her shorts and slung her T-shirt over her shoulder.
She turned back and watched Alice swim over to where Sierra and Freddie were, feeling lost. Had she and Alice just had a civilized conversation? That wasn’t right.
Briar didn’t want to give up her anger towards Alice. She needed it, needed to feel it every day, because if she wasn’t angry at Alice then that left her open to other emotions, uglier ones, sadder ones, ones she wasn’t ready to feel about Alice, about her mother, about herself. Briar frowned, looking away from the water, and her eyes settled on the pile of Alice’s clothes lying on the beach nearby.
She didn’t let herself think as she tucked them against her chest and headed down the path towards the director’s cabin.
She felt giddy, smiling as she brushed her teeth and washed her face. She took her time getting ready for bed, hoping to catch Alice coming in. Finally, she got in bed with a book, reading idly with her ears perked for footsteps.
It was another hour before she heard stirrings from outside. She quickly clicked off her lamp, pretending to be asleep. Loud stomps sounded from the steps, the front door snapping open and banging closed. Suddenly, the bedroom was flooded with light.
‘Oh, fuck off,’ Alice said. ‘I know you’re awake.’
Briar opened her eyes and laughed.
Alice stood in the doorway, wearing an old pair of waders she’d probably fished out of the boathouse. The army green rubber ended around her belly button, with straps over her shoulders that looked ridiculous paired with her lacy bra.
‘Are you happy now?’ Alice asked, crossing her arms. The rubber squeaked as she moved, which threw Briar into another fit of giggles. ‘All of the counselors saw me leave like this, just so you know. So there goes their respect for me.’
‘You mean if they had any to begin with,’ Briar said between giggles, wiping her eyes.
‘It is so on, Elwood,’ Alice said menacingly, though her words lost some of their effect as she tried to pull her leg out of the wader and made a horrible squelching noise. Briar hadn’t laughed so hard in weeks.
Briar wasn’t sure how it happened, but they miraculously seemed somewhat prepared for the campers’ arrival. She tried to soak up the final day without them, enjoying sitting in the mess hall with the counselors, eating an uninterrupted meal.
Briar’s gaze fell on Alice, as it so often did. She knew that none of the previous week’s success – the readying of the cabins and land, the training and coordination of the staff, and even Cook acting more attentive than he had in years – could have happened without Alice. Though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone but herself, she had needed help and Alice had delivered. But that only made it hurt more that Alice hadn’t come home sooner, before her life had completely spiraled out of control.
After dinner, they made bingo cards for disasters that would likely occur by the end of the summer. It was another activity Susan had made a tradition, so that the summer was fun for campers and counselors alike. Among the conversation and laughter, it was like Briar could feel her mom there with them, like at any moment she would walk in from one of the trails and come back to her. When Briar thought of her mother, it was always like that, brimming with life and flushed from a day of hiking.
She felt tears prick at her eyes. Since her mom’s diagnosis, she’d learned that if the tears were coming, she should let them. So, she stood, inadvertently catching Cook’s eye as she headed for the door. He nodded in understanding, and Briar made her escape.
The walk back to the director’s cabin was quiet, a lone owl hooting in the night, harmonizing with the crickets. Pulling the screen door open, Briar was overwhelmed by the smell of old books, pine and something musky she’d always associated with her mother. Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled to the bathroom, turning on the shower and shucking off her clothes.
She let the warm water wash over her as she sobbed, tears trickling down her face and body before slipping down the drain. She cried until the water went cold, and then she climbed out of the shower and brushed her teeth.
Changing into her old ratty Fleetwood Mac T-shirt and a pair of boxers, she hoped another try atThe Brothers Karamazovwould put her to sleep. She flicked off the overhead light, leaving a soft glow from her bedside lamp. She pulled back her duvet and top sheet, grabbed her book and climbed into bed, only for her feet to stop short, shoving her knees painfully into her face.
Briar rubbed at her bruised lip, raising the blankets to look. A surprised laugh bubbled out of her.
Someone had shorted her sheets, remaking the bed with the top sheet reversed and folded over so that there was nowhere for Briar’s legs to go. It was a ridiculous prank, juvenile in the best way, and only one person could have done it. As she got up to fix her bed, a torn corner of paper peeked out from under her pillow.
It only had one word on it, written in Alice’s perfectly rounded script:Gotcha.
Chapter 8
Alice
