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Authors: Linda Joy Singleton
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makeup. Sure, I enjoyed nice clothes and shopping, but that wasn’t all me. I may have been from San Jose, where my parents lived in a large house with gardeners and a housekeeping service, but I’d fallen in love with a rural lifestyle from my weekends and summers at my grandmother’s farm. I didn’t scream at snakes, wasn’t afraid to get dirty, and could ride a horse.
“It’s easier for guys in the outdoors,” I said in a joking tone. “You just unzip and do your thing. Can you imagine Penny-Love squatting behind a tree?”
“Not in this lifetime.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you’re not like that.”
“Lots of girls like the outdoors. I’m sure you’ll find more volunteers. The important thing is helping the kids. The campout will be a wonderful experience.”
“So you’ll do it?” he asked, suddenly stopping in the middle of a stream of moving students to face me.
“Me?” Damn! Why didn’t I see that one coming?
Okay, so snakes and dirt didn’t freak me out. But squatting behind a bush would be embarrassing—not to mention disgusting. Besides, I hadn’t ridden a horse in a while. I was competent on a well-trained mount, but I didn’t know if I had enough experience to assist little kids.
As for camping … well, maybe there was still some city girl in me. I almost laughed to think of my family on a camping trip. The closest we’d ever come was when Mom sent me to soccer camp when I was twelve. I wasn’t any more skilled at sharing a cabin with a bunch of girls I didn’t know than I was at kicking a soccer ball. Mostly I’d gotten bruises and stayed alone in my cabin talking to Opal. And at soccer camp, we’d had running water, electricity, and toilets.
Josh was looking at me in a sincere way that made me feel like a selfish jerk. Did I want to help others only when it didn’t inconvenience me? And hadn’t I promised myself to work things out with Josh? What better way than a weekend in the outdoors? This was a great opportunity to improve our relationship. Riding horses in the moonlight, sharing food over an open fire, cuddling close in sleeping bags. Very romantic—without Dominic around to confuse things.
“All right,” I told Josh.
“Really?” He looked a little surprised, as if he’d expected me to argue. “You’ll do it?”
“Sure. It’ll be fun.”
“Great! I’ll sign you up ASAP.”
“Wait—there’s one condition.”
He furrowed his forehead. “What?”
“Toilet paper.” I smiled. “Four-ply and cushioned.”
“You got it.” He chuckled. “As much TP as you want. It’s great you want to come. I wasn’t sure you would ... I’ve kind of wondered about some things … ”
“What things?” I asked cautiously.
“Nothing really. Not anymore, now that you’re coming with me.” He gently squeezed my hands. “I promise you—this will be a weekend you never forget.”
As he spoke these words, I had a mental flash of a dark brown horse galloping through dense pines, then disappearing like smoke. I heard a girl screaming from somewhere in the distant future, and I shivered with acute premonition.
Instantly, I knew that Josh was right about the campout. It would be a weekend I’d never forget.
But not in a good way.
It was my last period of the school day and I struggled at a computer to meet an impossible deadline.
“Beany, have you finished yet?” Manny asked for like the ten-thousandth time.
And for the ten-thousandth-and-first time, I told him, “No.”
I didn’t bother to add my usual, “Don’t call me Beany” because it was a waste of stale classroom air. Manny DeVries, editor of the school paper Sheridan Shout-Out , always did exactly what he wanted and badgered everyone else until they did what he wanted too. He didn’t fit the image of a dictator in his khaki shorts, sandals, and dreadlocks, but he was one-hundred-percent tyrant.
“We’re already a day late and in a crucial time crunch. I desperately need the column
“It’s easier for guys in the outdoors,” I said in a joking tone. “You just unzip and do your thing. Can you imagine Penny-Love squatting behind a tree?”
“Not in this lifetime.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you’re not like that.”
“Lots of girls like the outdoors. I’m sure you’ll find more volunteers. The important thing is helping the kids. The campout will be a wonderful experience.”
“So you’ll do it?” he asked, suddenly stopping in the middle of a stream of moving students to face me.
“Me?” Damn! Why didn’t I see that one coming?
Okay, so snakes and dirt didn’t freak me out. But squatting behind a bush would be embarrassing—not to mention disgusting. Besides, I hadn’t ridden a horse in a while. I was competent on a well-trained mount, but I didn’t know if I had enough experience to assist little kids.
As for camping … well, maybe there was still some city girl in me. I almost laughed to think of my family on a camping trip. The closest we’d ever come was when Mom sent me to soccer camp when I was twelve. I wasn’t any more skilled at sharing a cabin with a bunch of girls I didn’t know than I was at kicking a soccer ball. Mostly I’d gotten bruises and stayed alone in my cabin talking to Opal. And at soccer camp, we’d had running water, electricity, and toilets.
Josh was looking at me in a sincere way that made me feel like a selfish jerk. Did I want to help others only when it didn’t inconvenience me? And hadn’t I promised myself to work things out with Josh? What better way than a weekend in the outdoors? This was a great opportunity to improve our relationship. Riding horses in the moonlight, sharing food over an open fire, cuddling close in sleeping bags. Very romantic—without Dominic around to confuse things.
“All right,” I told Josh.
“Really?” He looked a little surprised, as if he’d expected me to argue. “You’ll do it?”
“Sure. It’ll be fun.”
“Great! I’ll sign you up ASAP.”
“Wait—there’s one condition.”
He furrowed his forehead. “What?”
“Toilet paper.” I smiled. “Four-ply and cushioned.”
“You got it.” He chuckled. “As much TP as you want. It’s great you want to come. I wasn’t sure you would ... I’ve kind of wondered about some things … ”
“What things?” I asked cautiously.
“Nothing really. Not anymore, now that you’re coming with me.” He gently squeezed my hands. “I promise you—this will be a weekend you never forget.”
As he spoke these words, I had a mental flash of a dark brown horse galloping through dense pines, then disappearing like smoke. I heard a girl screaming from somewhere in the distant future, and I shivered with acute premonition.
Instantly, I knew that Josh was right about the campout. It would be a weekend I’d never forget.
But not in a good way.
It was my last period of the school day and I struggled at a computer to meet an impossible deadline.
“Beany, have you finished yet?” Manny asked for like the ten-thousandth time.
And for the ten-thousandth-and-first time, I told him, “No.”
I didn’t bother to add my usual, “Don’t call me Beany” because it was a waste of stale classroom air. Manny DeVries, editor of the school paper Sheridan Shout-Out , always did exactly what he wanted and badgered everyone else until they did what he wanted too. He didn’t fit the image of a dictator in his khaki shorts, sandals, and dreadlocks, but he was one-hundred-percent tyrant.
“We’re already a day late and in a crucial time crunch. I desperately need the column
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