I had the distinct feeling that whatever would come out of my mouth would be wrong, and I didn't want to screw things up, so I said nothing. I wanted to reach over and hold her. It had been so long since I'd had my arms around a girl. But I couldn't take the chance. I wanted to turn on my flashlight and maybe even just look at her. But I didn't do that either.
“Ever feel like every single important decision you've made in your life is wrong?” she suddenly asked.
“I know the feeling,” I said.
“Let's make it change.”
“How?”
“Come with me to Montreal?”
“Montreal?” Was she crazy? We were in a remote camp for young criminals on the Eastern Shore of Nova Scotia. Montreal was a long way away.
“I know some people there. We get there, and we can disappear. A couple of fake driver's licenses and a new life. I can't do it alone. I picked you.”
I wanted to say,
Why me?
But I'd seen that look she gave me the first day. Yes, it was like we connected. Something electric. Fire.
She leaned over me and brushed my cheek lightly with her hand. Then she kissed me on the mouth. I put my arms around her. I was starting to think this might be one hell of a night, but she pulled back.
“Plenty of time for that,” she said. “But I can't stay here. I can't get caught. I just need to know you'll do this with me.”
Yikes. I didn't even know this girl, but I was ready to follow her to the ends of the earth. I asked the obvious question. “Do what?”
“I'm good with maps. I know where we are. I know what's around us. East of here, there's not much but wilderness, empty shorelines and islands for almost thirty miles. If we can make it through those islands without being seen, I've got a cousin in Port Joseph. My aunt and uncle moved there from the city when she started to get into trouble. We've stayed in touch. We know the same people in Montreal. She has a car. If we could get to Port Joseph, she'd drive us. We wouldn't have to put up with any more of this crap.”
“You make it sound easy. It would be a long hike. You sure we could find this Port Joseph place?”
“Yeah, we'll find it, but we're not going to walk. We go by water. With all those islands, we'd be much harder to find.”
I was remembering my first dip in the icy waters around here. Chris had said that we'd been taking easy routes, protected from the wind and the waves and the difficulties of paddling long distances on open water. “Sounds dangerous,” I said, probably sounding like a wimp.
“Not if we're smart.”
“And lucky.”
“Yeah, that too,” she said. “But I feel it in my bones. This is what I need to do. Walk away from my old crappy life. This is the decision that will finally change my life.” She leaned over and kissed me again. “And I need you.”
Once again, I wanted to blurt out,
Why me?
But I didn't.
“I'm in,” I said.
She put a hand on each side of my face and gently squeezed like I was a puppy or a little kid. She laughed a little. “I knew you would be. Cameron. You won't regret it, I promise.” And I liked the sound of that so much that I was a little stunned.
And then she was up and unzipping the tent door, slipping out into the night and gone.
A mosquito flew in through the open flap and bit me on the ear. I swatted it and smacked myself hard on the side of the head. Then I reached over and zipped the flap.
I should have smacked myself harder. Maybe I would have smacked some sense into myself. Maybe I would have used my brain to make a decision for once instead of my emotions. Maybe everything would have turned out differently.
But my head was swimming with Brianna. This crazy, beautiful, dangerous drug-dealing girl who had just been in my tent. I couldn't fall back asleep, so I tried to picture us on the road to Montreal, arriving there and starting a new life. The two of us together. The whole scene was very sweet.
But the more I got caught up in this fantasy, the more I began to think that I didn't know what I was getting into. Leaping from the frying pan into the fire? Yeah, she
was
fire. And what if I got burned? And yet, I knew that if I changed my mind and turned her down, she'd choose someone else. Maybe even Gerard.
And I couldn't let that happen. Not in a million years.
I didn't see her again the next day, as our group kayaked out around a bunch of small windswept islands. There were seabirds all around and seals in the water and lounging on rocks. An eagle sailed above me once. And lots and lots of open water.
They had planned it so we would never run into the girls, who must have gone in another direction. But I could see what Brianna was talking about. This was a wild, empty and uninhabited part of Nova Scotia. If we could get away, there would be a million tiny coves to hide in, hundreds of islands where we could go ashore and hole up. If you wanted to hide, it would take an entire navy to find you in this vast expanse of water and islands.
Even traveling with my fellow criminals and following Chris's directions, out here I felt free and alive and in control of my own kayak and, somehow, my own fate. I only knew the basics of Brianna's escape plan, but the more I thought about it, the more I began to believe Brianna and I had the stuff to make it happen.
I'd be alone with her out hereâ daytime and at night. And that would be a dream come true. Who cares if we never made it to Montreal? And it wasn't like we were breaking out of Walkerton. This was differentâbigger and more exciting than that. And this would prove that we were more powerful than the rotten, unfair system that put us here. The one that was always trying to break us.
My arms were starting to get a bit sore and my back was feeling it when Chris veered away from leading the group and doubled back, and then came up alongside me. “Cameron, you're a strong paddler. You're a natural at this. How do you feel?”
“I feel great.”
“I watched you this morning. You seemed different.”
That worried me. Did he suspect something?
“I meant that in a good way.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“We have a group of younger kids coming in for a day camp next week. I'm wondering if you'd help me teach them some of the basics about water safety and handling kayaks.”
That was a weird request. Me? A role model for young delinquents? But hey, why not? It would give me brownie points.
But then, maybe Brianna and I would be long gone by the time the young hoodlums arrived. Nonetheless, I wanted Chris to think I was dependable. “Sure,” I said. “I'd love to.”
Back at the camp, it was business as usual. Gerard giving me crap. Chris trying to be my friend and mentor. Me with one voice in my head telling me to chill and see this camp thing through, go back to school in the fall. Be good. And the other voice saying,
Go for the girl. Run. Get the hell out of here. Go crazy. Start a new exciting life.
But then things got a little complicated.
It started as a food fight in the dining hall. The girls. I was watching Brianna from across the room. I'm pretty sure she started it. Somebody accidentally shoved against her as she was eating.
Brianna shoved backâhard. And then the other girl, a tall big-shouldered one with short cropped hair, said something nasty. That's when Brianna took her fork and flicked somethingâ mashed potatoes I thinkâinto her face. That was all it took.
The big girl dropped her tray to the floor and reached for Brianna's hair, grabbed it and pulled her backward. Brianna reached behind her for the girl's head and smacked her in the ears.
Then all hell broke loose.
The two girls were fighting, and everyone was up and yelling. I felt sick to my stomach and tried to push my way through the crowd to help Brianna, but I couldn't get there.
Chris and a couple of the women counselors were pulling people apart and trying to get to the fighting girls, and when they did, Chris held his hands up to the mob to get some control while the two women pulled the girls apart. Brianna was pulled off, still swinging her arms and looking fierce. She didn't look hurt, but the other girl had a bloody nose.
I tried to make eye contact with her, and I yelled her name, but she was still struggling to free herself. Her arms were pinned behind her back by the woman counselor, and when I saw the handcuffs snapped on her wrists, I realized that these were not just youth counselors. These were trained corrections workers. I yelled Brianna's name again, but she wasn't looking my way.
Both girls were led out of the dining hall, and soon after, so was everyone else. We were confined to our rooms for the night. When Chris came in, I asked him about Brianna.
“She's in isolation,” he said. “So is the other girl. Five days. That's the rule.”
“Just like Walkerton,” I said.
“Not exactly. But we have to impose discipline.” Chris studied me. “You like this girl, right?”
I thought it was better not to say too much. After all, we had plans, Brianna and I. Plans to get the hell out of here.
“No,” I said. “Just curious. I was starting to think of this as more like summer camp than prison.”
“Think of it as summer camp with a few serious rules.”
“Right.”
That night, I thought of my own time in isolation at Walkerton. My first time, I had no idea how hard it was to be truly, truly alone, locked in a room with nothing but the stupid crazy thoughts going through your head. I hated every minute of it. I screamed out loud sometimes. I banged on the door. I got really antsy and thought I was losing my mind. And then I even cried. Cried like a baby. Isolation was tough. It was mean what it did to you. It's not exactly like torture. You have no control. You have nothing. Nothing but yourself.
And in my case, I'm not always that fond of my own company.
I could imagine what this was doing to Brianna.
So I played it cool. Went to bed, waited for everyone to be asleep, and then I got up and put my clothes on.
I really didn't know how they worked security here. Sometimes it seemed pretty slack. Other times you could see they could be serious. We all had been chosen to come here because it was believed we wouldn't run. None of us wanted to get shipped to Walkerton, and we knew if we screwed up, we'd be there in a flash and we'd have a longer stay.
But I really needed to find Brianna and see if she was okay. I scrambled low across the floor and out into the dimly lit hallway. One of the women counselors seemed to be on duty at a desk near the front doorâthe only way out of here. But she was watching a little portable tv and I think she had earphones in her ears. I guessed that Brianna was still somewhere in the building. I turned and headed to the farthest end of the hall.
At the last doorway, I stopped, crouched low and listened. Nothing. I tried the handle. Locked, of course. “Brianna,” I whispered. Nothing. Then a little louder.
“Cameron?” I heard her voice coming from a door across the hall.
I slid across the floor and put my ear close to it. “You okay?” I asked.
“I hate this. I can't handle being alone. Get me out.”
I knew that if I did, I'd get caught. There was no way I could break open the door. Then we'd both be in isolation. “I can't.”
“But I need you,” she said. I heard the panic in her voice.
“You'll get through this,” I said. “Think about something else. Think about us. Think about your plan. We'll do it.” I said this with conviction, even though I was having more than second thoughts. After seeing Brianna in a fight, I knew that this could be one mean, tough girl. Was that really the person I wanted to hitch myself to?
“We have to get out of here. Now,” she said.
If I knew one thing, I knew that now was not the time. “No. You have to ride this out. We have to be on our best behavior. Then no one will suspect anything. I'll come visit you at night like this. Then, when you get out, we can't be seen together too much. We don't want them to see us like that.”
There was silence at first, and then she said something that was like a bombshell. “But I love you,” she said. There was desperation in her voice.
“And I love you too,” I heard myself say. But the words scared the crap out of me.
I don't know how I did it, but I watched and waited each night for a quiet time to go sit in the hallway and talk to Brianna. I could never stay long, but I knew she really needed it. Funny thing about girls. I'd never really had a girlfriend. Some girls liked me, but those girls I found boring. The girls I liked tended to be bad girlsâtroublemakers at school, girls who got into some bad stuff out in the world. But none of them ever seemed interested in me.
Now, I guess I'd found a girlâBrianna. I had finally found my very own bad girl.
Three days into Brianna's isolation, the younger kids arrived for a day visit. Some of my fellow inmates were sent off on kayak trips, but about twenty of us were left behind to act as “guides” for the visiting rug rats. Chris explained that it was a new idea. An experiment. “But you have to do it right. Talk to your guest and get to know him. Tell him about the camp, about you. It's your chance to be a role model.”
“I've never been a role model for anything.” The whole idea seemed ridiculous.
“Give it a shot. You do well, and it will look good on you.”
I knew that this was some kind of test. Chris was giving me responsibility and “believing in me.” It wasn't like I was going to teach the kid to break into people's houses. I could play the game.
The kid's name was Philip. He was twelve, and he arrived on a bus from the city with the others. Chris introduced me to him and told us the ground rules. Everyone had to stay between the camp building and the water, and we could play games, talk, do silly art projects or just hang out. Chris handed a set of questions to me and a set to Philip. We were supposed to ask each other these things to get to know each other. It seemed totally lame, but I knew if I played it well, this day would set me up to look really trustworthy.