The lounge, like the fire ring after midnight, was guaranteed to be child-free. It made perfect sense for Charlotte to hide out there. She didn’t have any responsibilities until later in the afternoon, and she ached for a nap. If she went back to the cabin, she knew the girls would wake her up. They had barely left her room to breathe. MaryAnn was clingy like electrified socks.
Charlotte pulled open the screen door as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. It was just another cabin stripped of its beds, masquerading as a place where people would want to gather. But the air conditioner gurgled and dripped a permanent puddle under the window, the faux wood paneling was the color of rotting sea planks.
“Ah, I see you’ve found my favorite hiding spot,” Dave was sprawled across one of the two sagging couches that formed an L-shape in the opposite corner. One was some forgotten black fabric that had attracted all the world’s lint. The other was a sad plaid. A retired orange recliner faced them. “Whenever possible, hide in plain sight, Charlotte.”
She hadn’t completely grown accustom to his odd way of talking or his vague philosophies, but she was comfortable in his company, which is more than she could say for most people.
Charlotte took the plaid couch, resting with her head at the L-point of the couches. She closed her eyes and half-listened as Dave told random stories. In the middle of one, she interrupted. “Is any of this true?”
He took it in stride. “Of course it’s true,” he said. “I couldn’t lie to you one minute and expect your help the next. Especially you. You don’t seem like the kind of person who trusts easily.” He didn’t wait for a response. “But I’ve said enough for one day. Have you got anything to tell?”
Charlotte sat up and just shrugged.
“Nothing? I don’t believe it,” he laughed.
“I don’t. I’ve never done anything interesting. I’m not the adventurous type.”
“How would you know if you’ve never done anything?” Dave asked. “Look, here’s what I’ve figured out. Everybody has at least two quirks; if you work at this camp, you probably have three.” Dave swung his legs around and planted them on the linoleum floor. “Take our esteemed director, for example. He wears black socks with his tennis shoes, which, besides making his legs look extra pasty, is a solid cry for help.”
Well, he was right on that point. The black socks pulled up to their full length on Tom’s sunless, scrawny legs made Charlotte shudder.
“Secondly, he despises cell phones for reasons yet to be revealed. My theory is that a cell phone may have wronged him somehow, but the details are still fuzzy.”
“Okay, but that’s just one guy. You can’t base a whole theory on an already strange man,” Charlotte said.
“Must we again discuss your friend Tamara and her nature schizophrenia?” He raised one finger and made a tick mark in the air. “That’s two for me.” He stretched his legs with a satisfied look on his face. “But you’re harder to figure out,” he continued. “I think I need a little more time before I decide about you.”
He had that far-off look again, the one she had seen in the meeting, and she made her move. “Then it’s my turn,” she said. There was no sense in letting him analyze everyone else without reciprocating. “I think you do your best to keep people at a distance.”
The look was gone, and the sarcasm returned. “Why would I do that? People love me!”
“On the surface. When was the last time you were just Dave without being a pirate?”
“Touché, new girl.” He tugged at his facial hair. “I’ll tell you something. It sounds like you’re going to bug me until I do.”
“You’re right. Spill it.”
“Can’t tell you anything that would get me in trouble…” he mumbled as he searched for the right words. “I think I can tell you that things are changing, and they’re changing fast.”
She had no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”
“You and I, we’re going to see each other again. You can count on that. And when the voices tell you that you’re alone, don’t believe them.” He paused, and took a deep breath. “And my name’s not Dave. It’s David.”
Charlotte laughed. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” It was too late for a nap. She’d have to hope for a decent night’s sleep instead. “Now what?”
The sun broke through the clouds, streaming light across the dirty floor.
“Now we have shadow puppets!” he stuck out both hands, contorting them into something casting a shadow that looked like a vampire duck. The whistle blasted again. “Or we could go do our jobs.”
They trekked down to the equipment shed and gathered up the bags of softballs, bats, and helmets. From the mess hall to the field, the path was flanked on one side by great trees with limbs that stretched across the path. As they walked toward the field, Charlotte felt the sun warm her air-conditioned skin.
“I wish I’d brought more sunscreen,” Charlotte said. “I’ve slathered all the kids in the stuff but I’ll probably fry.”
“You can get more from the nurse,” Dave said. “I never use it. The sun and I have an understanding.”
More kids were coming to the field now, pulling equipment from the bag and warming up in the outfield. She slipped on her own glove and grabbed a ball. “Get on your own side, Phelps. I can’t be seen talking to the enemy.”
“Of course. Forgive my foolishness.” He stopped. “Want to make a little bet on the game? Winning coach has to clean up and take everything back to the shed?”
She agreed, and Dave jogged to his side.
Charlotte checked her roster and lined up the kids in their batting order. Only half of her kids had any softball experience. What did they do with their summers?
The game was not heavy on rules; it was much easier for the kids to play when they didn’t have to know everything. Even the ones with little experience did pretty well.
“Okay, MaryAnn, you’re on deck!” Charlotte called down the line.
MaryAnn ran to her, dragging her bat in the dirt and leaving a faint trail in her wake. The bat was almost as long as she was tall, but she had refused to relinquish it. One or two older boys could have easily taken it from her, but her determination was rewarded. They left her alone with it.
Her pigtails swished around her face. “I’m what?” she asked.
“On deck. It means you’re going to bat next,” Charlotte knelt down and looked into her copper eyes. There were flecks of craft paint on her right cheek, like blue freckles. The day before, Charlotte and Dave had given their teams some basic lessons. Charlotte had stood next to her, talking in soft tones as she explained how to hold the bat and what to do when the pitched ball came to her. “Remember what we talked about yesterday? Keep your elbows bent and keep your eye on the ball.”
Charlotte’s grandfather had done the same when he taught her. She played on every team she could; school teams during the year, and community teams in the summer. Every time she stepped up to the plate, she could hear his voice. Eye on the ball, kiddo. Look at the pitcher! He’s already scared of your swing and you haven’t even shown it to him yet.
Charlotte winked at her, and Mary set a look of determination on her face as she approached the dust-covered plate. MaryAnn lifted the bat over her shoulder, trying to find her balance against the new weight. This bat was longer and heavier than the one she’d used in practice.
MaryAnn fouled the first pitch in front of third, a low tip that rolled just outside the dirt baseline. She misjudged the second and swung early.
The third pitch connected perfectly, and the grounder sped between second and third. Her face lit up as she watched it sail, and she hesitated before running. If the kids had been more experienced, her hesitation would have cost her the run. But the other team was as uncoordinated as her own. She ran to first as the cheers of her teammates rang in her ears.
Her team won; MaryAnn scored their sixth run, and then clutched the chain link backstop as she cheered with the rest of them. Dave congratulated Charlotte and lead the teams up the path when the whistle signaled it was time for dinner.
Charlotte stayed behind to collect the gear. MaryAnn lingered on the field, running around the bases with arms outstretched like wings.
Charlotte called to her as she jogged to first. She wanted to dump the bag, grab a quick bite, and sneak out early to take a shower.
“Please can I go one more time? I want to be ready for tomorrow.”
Charlotte couldn’t say no. She’d done really well. “One more time. I’m going to put this away, and you can meet me at the dining hall.”
“Thanks, Charlotte!” She picked up the pace, making another loop, her fists pumping hard.
Charlotte lugged the bag up the hill. The clouds had returned, giving the air a coolness it hadn’t had during the game. She was still covered in the red dust and sweat of the game.
She took a deep breath and trudged up the last few steps to the dining hall.
She opened the side door and caught a wave of noise; the clatter of plates and silverware, kids yelling to each other across the room, and splashes from the nearby kitchen. The room was full; one counselor and one camper wouldn’t have been missed in all the mealtime chaos. Maybe she could get that shower after all.
Molly was at the end of the line. “I heard your team won! Congratulations. Dave’s been bragging about your coaching skills.”
Charlotte nodded. “Thanks.”
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Molly asked. Charlotte realized her tray was empty even after filing past half of the food.
“I was waiting on one of my girls,” Charlotte explained. “But she should have been here by now.”
Charlotte left the empty tray in its place and walked back out the door. She was a little irritated. She had told MaryAnn she could run one more time, and she had promised to come immediately after.
As she looked down the path, she spotted MaryAnn lying near third base. Maybe she’d run so much she’d worn herself out.
But as Charlotte came closer, she realized something wasn’t right. She didn’t look as if she was there by choice, but as if she had fallen, her arms and legs splayed in unnatural positions. And she wasn’t lying still. Her body was convulsing as she lay there.
Charlotte’s legs propelled her across the field. Would anyone hear her if she screamed for help? She dropped to her knees beside MaryAnn. She had no idea what to do. She watched the little girl struggle as if some demon had taken hold of her. The violence of it stunned her and trapped her voice in her throat.
Tom stepped out the side door. His hand went to the front pocket of his polo shirt where his cigarettes were waiting as his feet went to the growing cluster of butts on the ground. He lit one and exhaled, thinking how many more years he would be able to do this.
As he inhaled again, he saw Charlotte running toward the field with desperate speed. There were few reasons for anyone to run that way, and Tom knew none of them were good. He yelled for Andrew and the nurse and took off after her.
A part of her heard Tom calling to her, but she couldn’t respond. Her eyes were focused on MaryAnn, wide and horrified.
“Back up, Charlotte.” She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Tom finally pulled her away as a handful of others arrived.
“The ambulance is on its way,” Andy said breathlessly. “What happened to her?”
Charlotte held her breath. She didn’t hear Tom’s response. Something told her that it as too late. MaryAnn was still now. The nearest town was miles away through winding, narrow roads.
She sat perched on her knees, fingertips pressing into the ground. The sirens pulsed in her brain. The noise, more prominent in her own head than in reality, drowned out the conversations.
She didn’t realize Dave and Tamara were there. Whether she would run after the ambulance or faint where she stood, they couldn’t tell. They pulled her to her feet and sandwiched her in between them. For a brief moment, she was able to look away. Atop the hill overlooking the field, clusters of campers watched the paramedics hoist the stretcher. In the confusion, no one had kept them inside.
Charlotte collapsed against Dave, resting her cheek against his chest. He was a head taller than she and seemed to be built for strong, safe hugs. She watched as the ambulance doors closed and tried to keep the tears at bay.
The tires crunched on the gravel drive, and MaryAnn was gone. Charlotte admitted it to herself, and she let the tears come.
Dave wrapped his arms around her. “You couldn’t have known.” He felt her body quiver against his. “This is what’s meant to be.”
She didn’t believe him, but she didn’t say anything. There was a part of her that believed she could have saved her.
The other counselors lead the kids back to their cabins. After everyone was gone, Dave and Tamara took Charlotte back to the lounge. She suddenly felt frail, as if she couldn’t walk without support. All the strength had drained out of her.
They put her on the couch, and Tamara sat close enough that Charlotte could feel the warmth from her suntanned arm.
Minutes passed in silence. Dave shifted back and forth in the recliner, and finally spoke. “Tom’s got the counselors making phone calls.”
“What are they going to tell the kids?” Tamara asked. “Some of them are too young to understand.”
“They’ll understand in their own way,” Dave replied. He’d been around much longer than both of them, but his confidence wasn’t convincing. “I don’t think they’re the ones we have to worry about right now.”
The sirens and screams echoed in her head, but she managed to break away long enough for a half-hearted smile. “I’ll be fine, really.”
Dave and Tamara shared a look she didn’t catch. Dave stepped out to speak to Tom, who was pacing in front of the building with a cloud of smoke hovering around him. Moments later, Dave returned with the nurse. She carried a small plastic cup with a single pill.
“Here, honey, take this.” She dropped the pill into Charlotte’s hand. Charlotte didn’t know what it was, and she didn’t care enough to ask. She swallowed the pill dry.
“MaryAnn’s aunt is coming to pick up her things,” Tamara told her. “You should stay here and rest while I help her.”
Charlotte grabbed her arm. “No,” she said. “I should do it.” Tamara knew she wasn’t going to relent.
“I’ll walk you to the cabin,” Dave offered.
Charlotte and Dave went ahead of Tamara, who volunteered to wait for MaryAnn’s aunt to arrive. The sun had set, and they cautiously traversed the path by the sparse glow of the scattered light posts.
The cabin was empty. All of the girls had moved their things into Molly’s cabin. Only MaryAnn’s belongings remained, just as she had left them earlier that day; the faded pink sleeping bag, all the lumps carefully smoothed out of the worn nylon. Her pillow lay flat at the head of the bed with her teddy bear propped up against the rails. In the evacuated cabin, the bunk looked like a shrine.
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