Camp Utopia & the Forgiveness Diet (9781940192567) (29 page)

“Did you send my sister chocolate?” It wasn't an inquiry. It was an accusation. “Did you send her twelve chocolate roses, Bethany?”

All I could concentrate on was my heart, which was sure to leap from my chest. “That's perfect, Bethany. Of all people, you knew she couldn't eat that. I mean, what the hell were you thinking?” Again he didn't wait for a response. “Well she got them. And she ate them. Are you happy now?” His voice cracked. “She's in the hospital in a coma.”

His shoes squeaked when he turned around and hightailed out of the room. The door had one of those air compressor things on it to keep from slamming, but rest assured, Gabe slammed it anyway. When I rasped a lame, “I didn't mean to hurt her,” the only ones who heard me were the campers left in the common room. And they didn't believe me either. “Will she be alright?” I asked quietly.

Atlanta pondered her manicure. “Maybe. She passed out cold in the room until her brother found her. The paramedics left about a half-hour ago. She peed her pants.” I could see her fillings when she yawned. “Tragic.”

I ran upstairs to my old dorm room. Though I'd hoped to find Liliana bedazzling on her bed, I didn't. The dorm was silent. And I didn't know whether it was because I'd been gone for two days or because Liliana wasn't in it, but it felt strange being there. Spooky. It looked emptier than I'd remembered it. My bottom bunk remained disheveled, sheets pulling up to reveal a corner of vinyl mattress. Liliana's bed was unmade too, her bedazzler resting on her desk. Next to it sat a narrow cardboard box tied in a gold ribbon. I approached it slowly, the way you would a bomb. I lifted the lid and saw one chocolate rose left inside, a white one because she hated white chocolate. The card was still stuck to the cover:
As promised, Bee

I settled on Liliana's bed, which had the same blueberry smell she gave off sometimes. I fondled the box's ribbon, inspected her bedazzler. I opened the desk drawer and found her knitting needles and crochet hook.
Could it be possible
, a voice inside me asked,
that I put my roommate in a coma?
Noting the glucose monitor on the bottom of the bed, and the little paper slips tossed haphazardly, I knew it was more than possible—it was inevitable. Liliana, my thirteen-year-old roommate, whose blue braces glittered whenever she smiled, was unconscious as a result of the chocolate roses some insensitive asshole had sent her. That
I
sent her. In addition to being an insensitive asshole, I think that also made me an accomplice. Maybe even a murderer?

Forget it, Bethany
, I said to myself, dismissing my thoughts.
You have an exit
.

My dad said he'd pick me up tomorrow morning. All I needed to do was what he suggested. Open the closet, throw my stuff in the duffle bag, and walk out. How could I face Liliana? How could I face Gabe? Simple: I couldn't. I had to leave.

When I heard a sharp tap against the window, I nearly dove under the bed. I was sure it was Gabe looking for revenge. I finally found enough courage to peek out, and I saw Cambridge pacing the path below.

“I've been waiting for you all day. What happened with your dad?” she asked.

“Everything was fine with my dad. It just went to hell the minute I got back.”

“What happened?”

I steeled myself. “Remember, when we were in Olive's room, and Liliana wanted a token of appreciation for covering for us?”

“And?”

“I sent her chocolate roses. Twelve of them.” My throat closed, and I barely got the words out. “She's in some kind of sugar shock now. A coma.”

“Damn,” Cambridge replied, pulling her hair into a ponytail. “Is she in the hospital or what?”

“It's my fault, Cambridge.”

“You didn't mean to hurt her, Bethany. You know how she is about chocolate.”

“She could die, Tabitha.”

Cambridge stood up straight. “We can go visit her. We'll find out where she is.”

“I'm sure she hates me,” I cried.

When she saw my tears, Cambridge said, “Don't be like that, Bethany. Her sugar levels probably went crazy. Look, I care about her too, and I know they'll get it straightened out.” She brushed dirt off her feet. “Liliana is so tough.”

I wanted to agree with her, but couldn't. Underneath all his anger, Gabe had seemed uncertain about his sister, and that uncertainty scared me.

“Why don't you just come with me,” she said again. “We'll go to the hospital together. I just signed myself out, by the way. Left my stuff and everything,” Cambridge said, trying not to smile. “I considered it an eighteenth birthday present to myself. And get this? Belinda and Hank wanted an exit weight and would you believe I lost five pounds? I think it was all that vomiting. Anyway, I've been staying at Olive's.” She waved me toward her again. “Are you coming or what? Let's go.”

I didn't look at her when I said the following: “My dad booked me a flight for tomorrow morning.”

An expression I couldn't identify swept across Cambridge's face. For the first time this summer, I'd surprised her. “What? You're going back to Baltimore? With your dad? But what ...” She pursed her lips. “What about everything here? What about Gabe?”

“After poisoning his sister, he'll be glad to see me go.”

“And Liliana?”

I shook my head.

“What about me, Baltimore. Us? Our adventure?”

Like I had another choice. “I have to go, Tabitha.”

Cambridge and her perfectly timed debates. “Do you?” Her sharp dings. “Do you really, Bethany?”

I swallowed the cantaloupe-sized lump in my throat. “I'll write you letters,” I said.

She swirled her neck. “I won't open them.” Then she turned to go, but whipped back around and said, “I thought you were brave, but you're not. You're a. You're a …” Even in her anger, she had grace. “You're a coward, Bethany.”

She was the only person on this earth to call me on my own shit. I would miss her to pieces.

52

WAKE-UP CALL

LATER THAT NIGHT I called the university hospital, but they could only tell me Liliana was stable, which sounded better than unstable, but not as good as cured. For the first time in three weeks I spent the night alone. In a few hours, I'd showered, done laundry, and relinquished Hollywood's cell phone on the bathroom counter for her to find in the morning.

I wondered how to fill the four hours until morning, so I made Liliana's bed and attempted to knit. Then I drafted a letter on my new stationery.

Dear Gabe & Liliana,

Please forgive me for sending you chocolate, liliana—it was beyond stupid, it was borderline homicidal. Thank you for being a great roomie and for being so hip and fashionable. I don't blame you if you hate me but maybe you'll get over it one day.

Gabe, for the record, you are the only person who didn't make me feel like a freak. thank you for not only looking at me, but for liking what you saw. I'm sorry I let you both down.

I tore it up and tried again:

L + G,

I'm sorry about the chocolate. I wouldn't expect you to 4give me, but if u do pls email me [email protected] I'm glad I met you both.

I stuffed it inside a yellow envelope and left it on Liliana's desk.

I stared out the window and waited for sunrise, but night stretched on like elastic. I thought of all of the other gifts I could've sent Liliana. A fruit basket. Flowers. Gift Card. But no, I had to go with chocolate. When I heard a buzzing, I checked my bra because I was so used to having the cell phone there. By the third vibration, I remembered I'd left it on the bathroom counter. “Bee?”

“Hey.” My voice sounded gritty, tired.

“Guess what? I'm in Los Angeles. On
American Envy.
I made the top twenty.”

“Wow.” My enthusiasm was there, yes, but TJ must've heard something dampening it.

“You'll watch me, right?” He paused. “Right?”

“Of course,” I said. “When's it on?”

“Final cut airs in two weeks. I'm so nervous, Bee.”

“You won't get cut.”

“I don't know. My stomach is all in knots. The doves are being sketchy. The levitating trick is complex. I mean, I've messed it up before. I feel like I need to raise the stakes too. I've thought about disappearing.”

“You always hated vanishing.”

“I'm getting better, I think. I'm trying.”

It was weird to hear him sounding so vulnerable. He actually seemed nervous. “You won't get cut, TJ,” I said. For the first time in I don't know how long, the silence between us was uncomfortable.

“What's up with you?” he asked. “How's camp?”

Where to begin … I ran away? I almost drowned my dad? Nearly killed my roommate and screwed up the only chance with a guy who actually liked me?

“Everything's fine, TJ,” I said, surprised by how much I wanted to end the conversation. “I'll watch you on Sunday.”

A few months ago, that conversation would've played and replayed in my mind until I could've recited it, but tonight I found I didn't have the energy. Maybe TJ would win
American Envy
. No amount of levitating or disappearing or magic tricks could bring Liliana out of a coma.

I was about to delete the number from the call history and return the phone to the bathroom counter when I felt the air shift. “Good thing I have unlimited calling,” said Hollywood, who now stood in front of me. She tapped her purple slippers impatiently. “Or I'd send you the bill.”

53

SHOULDA

UNLESS YOU COUNT the morning she jogged past us at Copernicus, not to mention her debut on UniTV, this was the first time Hollywood and I had occupied the same room. Lowering her arm like a drawbridge and opening her fingers one by one, she waited for me to deposit the phone into her hand. I knew if I did, she'd probably leave my room and that would be the end of it. Yet I didn't let the phone go. Instead, I tightened my grip. “By the way,” I replied pissfully, “I signed you up for twenty ringtone clubs and tweets from Walmart.”

“Funny.” She wiggled her fingers with irritation. “Give me my phone.”

What was taking me so long? Why did I hold on tighter?

Hollywood groaned at the inconvenience. “You can steal it again, Bethany, but I'll find you just as easily as last time. GPS is great for locating fat girls. Too bad you were so close when the little Latina passed out. Maybe you could've helped.”

So it was her. She was the anonymous tip that led my dad straight to me. She'd tracked me on the phone! Shocked, my fingers loosened, and the next thing I knew, Hollywood had reunited with her violet phone. She smiled victoriously.

“I should have known it was you,” I said, my teeth clenched. “Of course you would be the one to rat us out.”

She laughed. “Oh, I'd have thought Cambridge would've figured it out long before you. Or maybe she knew all along.” Standing there, she looked so ridiculous in her nightgown. So dainty. “I didn't rat you out either,” she clarified. “I simply revealed your coordinates. Personally, I'm glad you left. Things were much better without you.”

I didn't know why that stung so badly. Was it because I felt everyone had been telling me that same thing over and over again? Like everyone's lives could officially begin the minute I left—like a surprise party in reverse? At her words, something in me recoiled. And then, as if it only gathering strength, that same thing lunged.

“When I talked to your dad, he told me you have these problems. Problems with food. I saw it on your file too. What kinds of prob—”

Hollywood paused. “You're lying.”

“No, me and your dad had a lovely conversation on your phone. He gave me great advice. He did mention these problems, though. He seemed very concerned.”

“You're making it up.” She was turning red. “My dad doesn't speak to people like you.”

“Sure he does. He seemed nice. You must've inherited your personality from your mother. Anyway, your dad's got this fantastic voice too, and we got along just fine. Like this,” and I held up two crossed fingers.

“You should really stop making stuff up.”

I'm sure Hollywood wanted to make a big exit with her phone, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. I had her hooked now.

“I'm not lying,” I said.

“Why don't you just go back to Baltimore?”

This entire conversation leading up to this point had taken place with me sitting on the bed and Hollywood standing. Here was when I stood. In front of her. “Maybe I will go back to Baltimore,” I said. “But before I do, there's something I want to do first.”

I flexed my hand. “Something I should've done on weigh day.”

Hollywood looked confused as I moved even closer to her, close enough I could've touched the spaghetti straps of her nightgown. “The one thing I should have done all along.”

“Done wh—?”

She never saw it coming because I never saw it coming. In seconds, the fingers of my left hand bent into a white-knuckled fist, and I punched her. Punched her exactly the way Gabe had instructed during Knock Out. The first jab? That was what Gabe called a rangefinder. I found the range, alright. Then I crossed over with the fist of my right hand and decked Captain Thin in the jaw. That was, Gabe had told me, the power shot. And shot full of power it was. My jab cross was enviable, stellar. Religious. Thumb between my index finger, slightly tucked, Holyfield-style. All knuckle and downward thrust crashing into her jaw. “I should have done that,” I said. “I should have knocked you out.” Then I ripped the phone from her hand, walked into the bathroom, and slammed it in the toilet. Then I flushed it.

Then everything got quiet. The phone didn't go down, only floated in a circle on the water's surface. Plink, went the faucet. Plink. Plink. So quiet. Very quiet and, I was almost giddy because I thought I'd gotten away with it. Gotten away with everything. Fat camp. Dunking my dad. Liliana's coma. Punching Hollywood. Flushing her phone. Practically cocky, I rotated on my flip-flops and took one step toward my dorm room.