Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
A fter a lakeside lunch, Gloria and I heed Esther’s call for ‘all hands on deck’ in the arts and crafts cabin. We collect our trash, careful not to leave anything that might attract wildlife, and amble through the residential area.
I slow my pace to listen. “I hear singing.”
Gloria’s brown eyes widen. “I think it’s coming from Charlie’s cabin.”
We exchange excited looks and creep toward the source of the sound. Sure enough, it’s Charlie’s voice raised in song.
Even better, that song is “Defying Gravity.”
We lean against the exterior wall outside his bathroom to listen. Gloria whips out her phone and hits record.
“Do you think he’ll go for the high notes?” she asks.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
His voice strains and squeaks.
We burst into hysterical laughter. “He’s taken that song to new heights,” I say.
“Should I share the video in the group chat?”
“That seems cruel.” I pause. “Yes, let’s do it.” At the very least, we can hold on to it as leverage in the event we need any. No matter what he says, I don’t fully trust him. He’s a man, after all, and a lawyer to boot.
“Angela will be very pleased with herself,” I say. “That seed she planted has borne fruit.”
“He was really belting it out,” Gloria adds. “I think he was enjoying himself.”
I snort. “I guess we know what his karaoke song will be.”
“If he doesn’t sign up, we’ll do it for him.”
My stomach pinches. “Do you think this is hypocritical of us? Camp is supposed to be a safe space.”
“And Charlie came here to take that safe space away from us. We could do a lot worse than sharing his impressive vocal range.”
My resolve strengthens. “You’re right.”
We enter the arts and crafts cabin to find a small crowd gathered.
Wendy pushes a basket toward us. “Come on, ladies. These plushie penises aren’t going to crochet themselves.”
“I overcommitted, I know,” Esther says. “I won’t do it again, I swear.”
I hold up my hands. “We all know micro-coordination isn’t my thing.” The smaller the movement, the harder I find it.
Hunter glances up from the table with his usual intense expression. “If I can crochet a dick, anybody can.”
Esther studies me. “Cricket’s right. I remember the time she tried to use the emergency sewing kit on Ben’s shorts.” She offers me a curt nod. “You’re excused from duty.”
I don’t wait to be told twice. I exit the cabin and head straight to my office to get through a few more administrative tasks. I constantly put them off, which means they continue to build up into an insurmountable mountain of work.
Not for the first time since he arrived, Charlie’s face flashes in my mind.
Gone is the cocky, hitched-up mouth, replaced by something far more earnest and, as much as I hate to admit it, far more appealing.
The more vulnerable Charlie gets, the more dents he puts in my emotional armor, that bastard.
I will not soften toward Charles Widmore Pennyloafer VI.
He isn’t one of us. In fact, he’s worse.
He’s the antithesis of us. Charlie represents the establishment.
The status quo. He’s the kind of guy who would’ve mocked us to his jock friends in the high school cafeteria for sport.
For the hundredth time, I remind myself that he’s only pretending to be interested now because it’s the means to an end.
I refuse to be fooled by another man pretending to be someone he isn’t.
Been there, got the oversized Mumford & Sons T-shirt he left behind.
I open the drawer to the filing cabinet, and my eardrum is punctured by a scream. I quickly realize it’s coming from me and clamp my mouth shut.
From the depths of the drawer, two evil eyes stare back at me, glassy and unrepentant.
“What the hell, Chucky?” I wrench the doll from his hiding spot and glare at him as though he might actually offer up an explanation. If any doll was capable of such a feat, it’s Chucky.
I tuck him under my arm to return to his rightful owner.
I sort of wish Chucky could talk, if only to tell me about the Charlie he glimpsed when no one was looking.
Was the rest of his body as rock-solid as his chest, not that I was scoping him out?
Everybody here has noticed his physique, and Charlie has talked about his athletic past.
“Why am I trying to justify having a set of working eyes?” I ask Chucky.
The doll only stares in response.
“What’s it like sharing a room with him?” I picture Charlie making his bed in the morning, complete with hospital corners. I think of my own bed, unmade with the sheets in a ball at the foot of it. Where I kick them to in the middle of the night is where they stay.
I march toward Charlie’s cabin. Before I get there, I’m intercepted by Adam out for a walk with Chewy.
“What are you doing with Chucky?” he asks.
“Charlie decided to get back at me for my prank by leaving him in my file drawer.”
Adam laughs. “I didn’t think he had it in him.”
“I know, right?”
“So you’re going to give the doll back and let him do it again?”
Adam makes a good point. “I’m listening.”
“What if we hide him? We’ll make a game of it.”
I contemplate Chucky. “Bury him like treasure and draw a map?”
“More like a ransom note. We find a spot to stash the doll and make Charlie work for it.”
I like this idea. “What if he doesn’t?” I wouldn’t blame Charlie for leaving the doll wherever we chose to hide him. We’d give him the ideal excuse to abandon Chucky without losing face.
“I bet you anything Charlie’s too attached to let the doll go for good. He’ll take the bait.”
I smooth back Chucky’s red hair, and the ends stick straight back up. “Okay, but let’s not bury him. That seems cruel.”
Adam observes me. “You know that’s a doll, right? He can’t breathe.”
I cover Chucky’s ears. “You wouldn’t feel the need to point that out if I was holding a Yoda doll right now.”
“Point taken.” He glances over his shoulder. “You should hurry before you run into Charlie. I saw him leave his cabin about five minutes ago. Not sure when he’ll come back.”
I waste no time sneaking into Charlie’s cabin.
I take a second to digest the state of the interior.
He’s exceptionally neat and tidy, which shouldn’t surprise me given the condition of his shoes.
His laptop is open on the small table, and I resist the temptation to sneak a peek.
Besides, the Internet is garbage here anyway.
With my luck I’d try to glimpse his socials and end up freezing his screen on some Instagram model’s boobs.
I quickly brush off the notion. Charlie doesn’t actually seem like the kind of guy who follows models on IG. He seems far more likely to follow businesspeople he admires.
Do successful businesspeople post on Instagram? I have no idea. I’m only on there for the dogs in costumes.
I set Chucky up with a kitchen knife in Charlie’s bathroom sink.
It isn’t easy to get the doll in position, especially with the knife, but I finally manage it with an ingenious use of the toilet plunger and duct tape, which truly is the greatest invention since the printing press, as my grandfather espoused.
Outside the cabin, I hear Charlie’s voice and freeze. The front door clicks open, and I look around frantically. There’s only one place to hide. I dart into the shower and cower behind the curtain. I fervently hope he doesn’t choose now to have a bowel movement.
His footsteps head straight toward the bathroom. Shit.
No! Don’t manifest shit by thinking the word.
“Damn, Chucky,” Charlie says. “Not you again.”
Okay, he doesn’t sound terribly frightened. I can expose myself without giving him a heart attack. I poke my head out from behind the curtain.
“Charlie…” As I start to emerge from the shower, he unleashes a blood-curdling scream.
I grab the boat-inspired curtain with such force that I manage to yank it off the clips.
I fall out of the shower and onto the bathroom floor, wrapped like a nautical mummy.
I’m battered and likely bruised, but I cannot stop laughing.
“Holy shit, Cricket. Is that you?”
I emit some sort of sound that’s a cross between a snicker and a cry of pain.
Charlie tugs at the curtain until I’m able to emerge from my makeshift cocoon. “What in the hell are you doing in my bathroom?”
I catch my breath. “I was setting up Chucky when you came back. I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t exactly climb out the window.” When I dare to glance up, I see him grinning at me.
“Would you like a hand?”
“Only if you washed it first.”
“I haven’t been to the bathroom yet. That’s why I came in here before I was scared out of my wits.” He pulls me to my feet with his clean hand.
“I only intended for Chucky to scare you. I planned to be long gone.” I pause. “Or at least outside your cabin listening to the sounds of discovery.”
“And recording them for posterity I would imagine.” He actually sounds amused.
“I’m sorry for sneaking into your cabin. I know it isn’t very professional.”
“I believe it violates several camp rules and regulations.”
I lower my head. “I know. Again, I’m very sorry.”
“Do you promise not to do it again?”
I look from Chucky to Charlie, reluctant. “If you insist.”
“I’d like to keep Chucky with me from now on, if you don’t mind.”
“Like a hostage?”
“Something like that.”
“You really are attached to him,” I murmur, recalling Adam’s insight. I’m surprised, but I’m more relieved that he isn’t going to make an issue of my trespassing. I take the win.
“You won’t do anything horrible to him, will you?”
Charlie gnaws his lip. “You’re worried I’ll do something horrible to the doll threatening me with the butcher knife?”
“Technically it’s a vegetable peeler…”
He holds up a hand. “I solemnly swear to do no harm to Chucky. Will that do?”
“Yes.” Now that the uncomfortable has passed, I realize we’re crammed together in his tiny bathroom. Cue new uncomfortable moment.
“In exchange for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Twice now Ben has mentioned a mysterious prank that I won’t see coming. Could you kindly make that go away? Every time I turn a corner, I expect to be confronted with some crazy prank I can’t even predict.” He gestures to the shower. “I’m not a big fan of surprises.”
“No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great. Would you mind giving me some privacy?” he asks, motioning to the door.
“Of course. Sorry.” I observe the curtain in a ball on the floor. “I’ll bring you another shower curtain later.”
“No need. This one’s fine. I can hang it back up.”
It’s only when I leave the cabin that I hear his rollicking laughter, and I can’t help but smile. My embarrassment aside, it’s a good sound. One I’d very much like to hear again.