Lighting the Flames (19 page)

Gen leaned on the doorway between their rooms,
looking at his bag and then over at hers. Packing. They were going
home tomorrow.

At camp they were
never more than a few hundred feet from one another, but at home,
Jeremy lived in the outer suburbs, forty-five minutes or more from
where Gen lived now. It wouldn
’
t be so easy to see
him after this week. He probably couldn
’
t go so far from his
job if he was on call. Did he have on-call hours, even? Probably.
She
’
d have to go visit him. Which would be
…

She
wasn
’
t sure what it would be. Good and bad, maybe. She
didn
’
t like to drive to the town where he lived, where her
parents had died.

Gen pulled on another
layer, grabbed her hat, and found her boots and coat by the back
door, stiff with salt and dirt. She
’
d have to do epic
laundry when she got home. Parkas were a pain to wash, too, if hers
even fit in her washing machine.

She
didn
’
t want to think about home, about not being at camp, about
packing and laundry and saying good-bye. She looked down at the
snow beneath her as she walked toward the dining hall. There were
no footprints on the path from their cabin, no indication of where
Jeremy had gone.

The campers and their parents had a lazy breakfast
on their schedules, with cereal, fruit, and bread left out by Corey
and Nadine the night before so everyone could help themselves.
There was milk in the cooler, and jelly and chocolate spread on the
kitchen window counter next to the toaster.

Gen fixed a plate for
herself before finding a place to sit. Her breakfast was pretty
epic, toast with chocolate on every crumb, and she looked around
again for Jeremy. There shouldn
’
t be anything epic
going on without him to yell about it.

It seemed that most
everyone had lingered after breakfast, gathering around the dining
hall fireplace. Wood was stacked nearby to keep the fire going all
day. Some had brought knitting or books to read, and others played
cards or moved rocking chairs closer to the heat to sit and talk.
But there was no sign of Jeremy. It was too quiet for him to be in
the room. She
’
d known as soon as she
’
d entered that he
wasn
’
t there, but she still looked for him.

She stirred her spoon
through the milk left in her cereal bowl and tried not to watch the
door. Even though she was plenty embarrassed at what had happened
the night before, she wanted to find him. Jeremy was one of the
most important parts of her life at camp. And she wanted him to be
part of her life outside of camp. She didn
’
t know how to make
that happen, and she was running out of time in the only place
where they had the most time together.

When she stood up to throw her trash away and put
her bowl in the dishwashing rack on the counter, she saw a dark
figure outside the kitchen windows moving through the trees.

Jeremy.

*

She ran after him as quickly and quietly as she
could, though with the snow it was more of an awkward gallop with a
lot of high knees. Jer looked angry and upset. He had his head
down, looking at his boots as he hiked quickly away from camp. She
watched him and stayed behind, following him without catching
up.

The trail he followed,
if there was one, took her past the closed sections of camp. The
buildings that didn
’
t have heat hid beneath enormous drifts of snow.
It was going to be strange to see camp that summer and know that
only a few months prior, half the buildings had been buried in
white. This was a side of camp that the summer campers would never
see, a whole other world that existed by itself. She wanted to say
so out loud, but Jeremy was too far ahead and probably
didn
’
t know she was there. The way he was looking down, the way
his shoulders hunched over, he looked miserable.

She followed him down
the path past the kitchen staff
’
s bunkhouses. They
were heated, and she could hear music playing as Nadine and her
children got ready to head to the kitchens to make
lunch.

Jeremy turned into the woods leading out to the tent
platforms. The teen campers lived there in the summer, but as she
trudged past, Gen saw drifts and lines of snow that were taller
than she was, even with her boots on, and possibly taller than
Jeremy, too. The winds from the lake were fierce through the trees,
and the ridges of snow looked like frozen waves.

She wanted to call his name, to tell him to turn his
head and look, but she kept silent again. She had taken the camp
digital camera with her that morning, so she took a picture, trying
to fit into the tiny camera frame the wide platform that in the
summer would be Tent 3, the home of five teenage girls and fifteen
tons of clothing and hair product. She could post the picture
online later, next to a picture she had taken of Tent 6 last July,
to show people how different camp was in the winter.

It was disorienting to
see a place that was so familiar look like an alien landscape.
She
’
d probably walked every trail, and seen every part of Meira
in the years since her first summer. It seemed impossible that the
tent village would change so much in six months. It would be loud,
like it was every summer, chaotic with color and noise, with dozens
of multicolored towels hanging on the line and tie-dye shirts
drying on branches. Now there were silent ridges of snow, white
frost layered on black trees, and a wind that whispered as it cut
through the village. Nothing looked the same.

There
wasn
’
t a path in the snow, but Jeremy
’
s pace
didn
’
t slow down, and she had to hurry to keep him in sight once
she
’
d stopped taking pictures. She stayed farther back behind
him and let him lead the way through the waist-high drifts and
plains of snow. His head was still down, almost defeated, as he
continued forward without looking where he was going. He must have
known the way because he didn
’
t glance to either
side. He didn
’
t take his eyes off his boots as he made deep tracks
farther and farther into the woods.

The sounds of camp were already muted in the cold of
winter. The slight noises faded behind them, and soon it was only
the sounds of their boots crunching on the ground. Jeremy left
puffs of breath streaming behind him, like a steamship crossing a
white, frozen sea. Gen was short enough that she would pass under
the cloud of his breath, her own breathing faster than his.

Jeremy still
didn
’
t stop. He kept marching into the woods, following a trail
that Gen had never seen in the summer and certainly
couldn
’
t see now. She kept her eyes on the ground to keep herself
from tripping over a root or a rock hidden beneath the white, and
let out a squeak of surprise when she almost fell forward over a
log across her path.

Then she looked up and
barely stopped herself from squeaking again. Jeremy stood on the
other side, expressionless, waiting to help her over the fallen
tree. He gave her his hand and held it until she jumped down next
to him. Without a word, he continued on his way. He
didn
’
t look at her. He didn
’
t speak. His face was
turned away from her, and she almost gave up following him, since
he didn
’
t seem to want her there.

A beeping noise stopped them both.

“
Fuck,
”
Jeremy muttered. He dug into his pants pocket and
pulled out his cell phone. He looked at the display and cursed
again.

“
What
’
s wrong?
”
He didn
’
t answer her
question.
“
Wow, dude, got serious face?
”
It was the wrong
thing to say. He turned farther away from her.

“
Wait, I
’
m sorry.
”
Gen ran after him.
“
I
’
m sorry.
I
’
m
not used to seeing you all angry and serious. You look like your
dad,
”
she said. Yet again, it was the wrong thing to say. He
stepped back, like they were playing dodgeball and
he
’
d
forgotten to block a close throw.

“
I
am
…
shutting up now. Just
…
please tell me
what
’
s wrong? Are you okay?
”

Jeremy leaned back against a tree, almost throwing
himself against it, defeat in his every movement. He crossed his
arms over his chest, looking down, not meeting her eyes. She could
see him pressing his lips together into a thin line, a sure sign
that he was angry. Gen refused to let herself speak, to say she was
sorry again. She might end up piercing her own tongue with her
teeth, but she would give him silence and room to speak.

She
’
d never seen him like
this, withdrawn and serious and still, not a hint of a smile or
smirk anywhere near him.

“
I
have six new messages.
”

Gen waited. He
didn
’
t look up from his phone.

“
Something
’
s obviously wrong, but Colin is managing things and he
won
’
t call my dad and tell him. He calls me. And then
he
’
ll say he tried to reach me but I didn
’
t pick up, and
therefore it
’
ll be my fault, because I
’
m here and not
there.
”

“
No
one has cell service in camp.
”

“
I
know. That
’
s why I walked out here, so I can get a signal. Came out
here yesterday and all was quiet. Today? Six messages. He probably
messed up something. Or everything.
”

“
Everything?
”

“
There weren
’
t any funerals, nothing expected.
It
’
s
not like you can predict them or anything, but it was supposed to
be somewhat quiet. He didn
’
t want to cover for
me, but he agreed. Now I have to find out what happened, and then
tell my dad, and they
’
ll blame me for not being
reachable.
”

“
Why?
”

“
Because I
’
m here, and not at home, where they think I should
be.
”

“
What could he have done wrong?
”

“
Any
number of things.
”

“
What could have happened that he couldn
’
t figure out? What
does he
…
what do you do?
”

He looked up, but not at her. His eyebrows were low
across his eyes and he stared into the air in front of him.

“
If
someone died, it would be
…
pickup and then
staying with them. We
…
I sit with the deceased, or my dad does. Then we
make arrangements for bathing and burial
preparation.
”
His gaze dropped to the phone in his hand. Gen looked
around, saw a tree stump near where Jeremy was leaning but decided
not to sit down. She didn
’
t want to move. She
didn
’
t know what to say, or what not to say, or what to ask him.
But she didn
’
t want him to stop talking.

“
Who
sat with my parents?
”
The question was out of her mouth before she
could prevent it. She wanted to push it back in. This
wasn
’
t about her.

Jer met her eyes for
the first time since he
’
d walked into the
woods, and he didn
’
t look away.
“
I
did.
”

Gen
couldn
’
t breathe.
“
Where was your dad?
”

“
At
the hospital.
”

“
How
long?
”