9. Nine #2
I fully expected their dad to take off the second his kids were out of the vehicle, yet, as I led the kids away, there was Jack.
He was leaning against the window frame where I’d been standing just minutes ago.
Unlike our single sentence conversation, now, this guy was all talk as he and Jack had some sort of whispered exchange.
Still though, the guy never removed his sunglasses, nor did he spare a moment to consider where his children had gone.
Not far. Jonathan, Alison, and I were frozen, watching the two men as their conversation devolved into an argument.
Jack’s face was turning red, while the kids’ father paled and got even more nervous than before.
He shifted uncomfortably from side to side and couldn’t help himself from pulling on his shirt collar every five seconds, as if trying to loosen it from around his neck.
His head darted from side to side, trying to find anywhere to look except for directly at Jack.
I was used to lazy, bumbling Jack, but now I was seeing a different version.
He dominated the guy’s space, even with the car door between them.
And when he slapped his hands down on the metal, the man jumped.
So did both the kids and me. Then, Jack backed off, stepping away from the vehicle.
In quick succession, the guy rolled up the window, started the car, and sped back down the road so fast that the back tires spun in the gravel for the first few rotations.
Stones and dirt flew everywhere until the wheels caught some traction, and he was gone.
We watched in silence as the taillights receded.
“Our cabins?”
The boy’s serious voice at my side had me shaking away the interaction.
“Yes, your cabins!” I exclaimed, “I’ll go check the office for your cabin allocations and then we’ll head off. What’s your last name?”
“McKnight,” came his answer. The girl still hadn’t spoken or even looked up.
But as I darted back to the office, I could see the two siblings mumbling to each other.
On registration days, there was a full camper list taped to the front wall inside the office indicating cabins for every single kid, from the youngest to the oldest in alphabetical order.
I scanned for the M’s and found the two kids, Alison and Jonathan McKnight, aged twelve.
My guess was right. She was allocated to Isabella’s cabin, Iris, and Jonathan would be with Hassan, one of our best cabin leaders, in Graysedge.
I moved away from the list to make space for a few junior staff who were crowding in around me.
Rather than make small talk, I smiled politely at them and headed back outside.
From the deck, I scanned the grassy lawns and wood-chipped paths for Jonathan and Alison.
During the minute or two I’d spent inside, more families had arrived.
Now, the area surrounding the office was swarmed with kids and their parents, making the two I was looking for much harder to spot.
Eventually though, I caught a glimpse of Alison’s sun-coloured hair, or so I thought, until I jogged closer.
The blonde hair I’d spotted from a distance was too brassy up close.
Two years with Michele had been enough to teach me the difference between a dye job and the real thing.
Still, it worked out because it belonged to a junior staff member kneeling beside Alison.
The bottle blonde’s name was Stephanie. One of last summer’s top elites, claiming one of the Elite Achievement awards at last summer’s closing campfire.
She was now attempting, unsuccessfully, to talk to Alison.
“What’s your name, pretty little thing?” She asked in a falsely high pitch.
In my brief absence, both kids had opted to pull their suitcases away from the main path, tucking into a corner between the trees and the Section Office. I was surprised anyone even noticed them there.
Stephanie continued to pester the girl with questions, each one making Jonathan sneer at her.
Of course, Stephanie was too self-centred to notice.
She was ignoring the boy completely, so she didn’t notice his lip curling in disgust. For me, it was a familiar expression, one I felt on my own face all the fucking time, and seeing it on this kid now, well, I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Jonathan must have gotten sick of just sneering, because when Stephanie asked yet another question, he piped up,
“My sister doesn’t talk.”
“Like, at all?” Stephanie made no effort to hide her feelings on that.
“Like, at all,” the kid replied. He said it with way more authority than most twelve-year-olds could muster.
Which was probably why Stephanie finally fucked off.
She stormed away from them and when I grinned at her as she passed me, she licked her artificial too-full lips and muttered, “Fucking weirdos. They’re all yours. ”
I saw this every year. There were always one or two new staff whose entitlement leached off them in waves.
They were used to being campers, the focus, the big deals here, and it made them lazy and overly familiar.
Stephanie epitomized this spoiled mentality.
Either she’d learn or she wouldn’t last the summer. Only time would tell.
Jonathan looked up as I got closer, relieved, he dropped some of the defensiveness from his shoulders, squeezing his sister’s hand to get her attention.
She looked up, too, and although she still didn’t utter a sound, that fact that she didn’t immediately look away like she’d done with Stephanie, seemed like a small win for me.
“Let’s get you two to your cabins.”
Jonathan reached for both suitcases, “My sister first.”
“You got it, pal,” I replied, taking his blue trunk from his hand. He only fought me on it for a second before releasing it. No way this skinny kid could carry both, but I’d let him be a gentleman and help his sister.
It was a long walk to the Girl’s Section, one that took us across most of the main camp, so, as we walked, I pointed out landmarks and program areas. The kids followed me, silent and wide-eyed. At her first glimpse of the lake, Alison finally made a sound. A tiny yelp of surprise.
“Lake Ganawen,” I explained, “It means ‘care’ in Ojibwe.”
She continued to stare out at the water as we passed the swim docks, then the boating dock, which doubled in size to accommodate the Barrett family’s donation of three monstrous speedboats and one ridiculous water trampoline.
I hadn’t been down this way in a while, because looking at those things got my back up.
The girl’s cabin line was exactly that, fourteen wooden cabins, with painted front doors, lined up in a neat little row.
Both the girls and boys' cabins were arranged by age, keeping the younger kids closer to the main part of camp.
Small legs and all that. Part of Agonde tradition meant that each door was painted a different bright colour to match their namesake flowers.
So Iris, with its purple door, was easy to spot, only four doors down.
Besides the purple door, Iris stood out from the other cabins because standing in its doorframe were both Isabella and Michele. They hadn’t noticed us approaching because they were deep in conversation, one that had Michele shaking her head. As we got closer, I started to catch snippets of it,
“But, Mich…”
“No, Bells, not yet, okay? I…”
“Ahem,” I interrupted, clearing my throat, but not before Isabella reached her hand out towards Mich. She promptly dropped it in surprise at the sound of my voice.
“Isabella, I’ve got a camper here for you,” I remarked, turning to point Alison out to her cabin leader. Not entirely unexpectedly at this point, Jonathan had already stepped forward, guarding her. I was starting to recognize that this kid took protecting his sister seriously.
And just like he’d said to me back at the car, he said, “I’m Jonathan, and this is my sister, Alison.”
He stepped aside just enough to reveal the girl behind him. To Isabella’s credit, she didn’t so much as smile. She matched his seriousness and marched up to Jonathan with her hand extended.
“Hi, Jonathan, I’m Isabella, but you and Alison can call me Bella.”
She shook the kid’s small hand, “It is nice to meet you.”
When neither child moved, Isabella gestured toward the cabin, “Would you and Alison like to come inside? You can help her pick her bunk?”
At that, both kids nodded in unison, and she led them inside. Michele watched the whole thing with a warm smile, and once the kids were through the door, I took advantage of my first opportunity in weeks,
“Mich, I know not here, not now, but can we talk?” I pleaded.
“We have nothing to talk about, Cole,” she sighed. She sounded sad.
“But I miss you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do! Please?!” I practically begged. This wasn’t the first time I’d tried to plead with her, either.
She just shook her head. Before she could shit all over my attempt any further, Isabella reappeared with both kids.
For the first time since I’d opened the car door, both brother and sister were smiling.
On the cabin’s doorstep, they hugged tightly, Jonathan whispering into his sister’s ear, before he rejoined me on the path.
“Ready to go?” I asked. He nodded, waving at his sister.
She waved back as we turned around. We would have to retrace our steps and go a lot further to get to his cabin, Graysedge.
There was nothing I could say to Mich right now to change her mind, not with the kid here.
As I led the boy away, I heard Isabella ask, “You okay, babe?”
Michele answered back softly, “We’ll talk about it later.”